Twenty Nine

The next morning, I woke up to the faint hum of my phone vibrating against the nightstand. I groaned, rolling over and grabbing it, my eyes half-closed. It wasn't even 8 a.m. yet. Who needed me this early?

Paige.

Her name lit up my screen, accompanied by a text:

Paige: Morning, Inds. You still sleeping? Or did I tire you out again?

I stared at the text, groaning in a mix of embarrassment and amusement. The fact that she knew she was living rent-free in my head made her cocky, but I couldn't even be mad about it.

Me: Some of us need sleep to function, mama. Unlike you, I'm not fueled by pure swagger and caffeine

Her response came instantly.

Paige: Cute. But you better get moving. Breakfast on me before practice?

That was new. Paige Bueckers offering me breakfast? My heart did an embarrassing little flutter.

Me: I'm holding you to that. You better not just mean granola bars

Paige: Meet me at Lou's in 20. I'll prove it

By the time I pulled into the tiny diner parking lot, Paige was already leaning against her car, dressed in gray UConn sweats and a fitted hoodie. She looked unfairly good for someone who was probably running on four hours of sleep.

"Look who actually made it," she teased as I climbed out of my car.

"Look who thinks this is my treat," I shot back, shouldering my bag as I walked up to her.

Paige smirked, pulling open the diner door and holding it for me. "I said I'd pay, didn't I? I'm a woman of my word, baby girl."

The warmth of the diner hit me immediately—the smell of coffee, bacon, and maple syrup blending together in the air. Paige led us to a booth in the corner, sliding in across from me and grabbing a menu.

We ordered pancakes, eggs, and coffee—Paige insisting on "the works" because, in her words, "a champion's appetite needs more than granola."

"So," I said between bites of syrup-drenched pancake. "This breakfast thing... Is this part of your strategy to distract me?"

Paige leaned back, her lips quirking into that familiar, teasing smile. "If I was trying to distract you, you'd know."

I rolled my eyes, but my cheeks betrayed me, burning at the thought. She was too much.

By the time we finished eating, the diner had filled with the hum of morning chatter. Paige paid the bill despite my protests, slipping a tip under the edge of the plate before standing.

"Ready to face another day with the team?" she asked, holding the door for me as we walked out.

"Always," I said, smiling. "But only if I get to watch you show off again."

Paige grinned, pulling her hoodie tighter against the morning chill. "You better keep your camera steady, baby girl. Can't have your hands shaking when you're trying to capture greatness."

When we arrived at Gampel Pavilion, the team was already trickling in. Aaliyah was the first to spot us, her eyes darting between Paige and me as we walked in together.

"Breakfast dates now?" she called, grinning. "What's next, matching shoes?"

Paige shot her a look, but I couldn't help laughing. "She paid," I said, shrugging.

"Of course she did," Nika chimed in, walking past us with a water bottle in hand. "Paige always has to be the big shot."

"Better than being the team clown," Paige shot back, smirking.

The banter was easy, familiar. I slipped into my usual spot by the court, setting up my camera as the girls warmed up.

As practice began, the energy in the gym shifted. It was all business now—Coach was pacing the sideline, barking instructions as the team ran through drills. Paige was in her element, moving with the kind of focus and intensity that made it impossible to look away.

But it wasn't just her skill that drew me in. It was the way she interacted with the team—cheering on Aubrey after a tough shot, giving Ayanna pointers during a break, teasing Amari just enough to keep things light. She wasn't just a leader; she was their anchor.

"India!"

I jumped, nearly dropping my camera as Nika's voice pulled me out of my thoughts.

"Can you get a shot of me dunking on Paige?" she called, grinning as she jogged toward me.

Paige arched an eyebrow from across the court. "Nika, you've never dunked on me in your life."

"Today's the day, P," Nika said confidently, grabbing the ball and dribbling toward the hoop.

I raised my camera, ready to capture the moment. Nika took off, aiming for the basket—but Paige was faster, leaping up to block the shot with a clean, effortless swipe.

The ball bounced away, and Nika landed with a groan. "Unfair," she muttered, but she was smiling.

Paige walked over, holding out a hand to help her up. "Nice try, though."

As practice wrapped up, I found myself lingering near the sideline, scrolling through the shots I'd taken. Paige appeared beside me, leaning against the railing with a casual ease that made my heart skip.

"Got anything good?" she asked, nodding toward my camera.

"A few," I said, showing her a shot of her mid-jump, the ball just leaving her fingers.

Paige studied the photo, her lips curving into a satisfied smile. "You're good, you know that?"

"Don't act so surprised," I teased.

She chuckled, reaching out to gently nudge my arm. "Come on, baby girl. Let's grab lunch before the team hogs all the good food."

I followed her out of the gym, my chest warm with something I couldn't quite name. Whatever this was between us—this connection, this easy back-and-forth—I didn't want it to end.

And something told me Paige didn't, either.