Thirty Five

The morning sunlight was aggressive. It pierced through my curtains like it had a personal vendetta, stabbing right into my face. I groaned, rolling over and burying my head under a pillow. My legs were sore from last night's impromptu driveway basketball showdown, and my arms weren't much better. Paige might've been trying to be cute, but she played defense like it was the Final Four.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

P: Still asleep, baby girl? Thought photographers were supposed to be early risers

I squinted at the screen, trying to decipher her tone. Teasing? Smug? Both? Probably both.

Me: Some of us don't have practice at the crack of dawn. What's your excuse?

P: Just thinking about how badly I smoked you last night

I rolled my eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn't get stuck.

Me: You didn't 'smoke' me. It was close

P: It was 5-2, Inds

I groaned out loud this time, throwing the pillow across the room. She wasn't wrong, but did she have to be so smug about it?

Dragging myself out of bed, I shuffled into the kitchen, where my roommate—Lila, a grad student who'd graciously let me take over the second bedroom—was already nursing her morning coffee. She raised an eyebrow at my disheveled appearance.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that," I muttered, grabbing a mug and pouring myself some coffee.

"Let me guess," she said, smirking. "Basketball Barbie again?"

"First of all, don't call her that," I said, pointing my spoon at her. "And second, yes."

Lila laughed, shaking her head. "You've got it bad, babe."

"I do not," I said, a little too quickly.

"Sure," she said, dragging out the word. "That's why you're up texting her at—" She glanced at her watch. "—8 a.m. on a Saturday."

I glared at her but didn't bother arguing. Lila wasn't wrong, and we both knew it.

By the time I made it to the arena for the team's morning shootaround, the gym was alive with activity. Balls bounced rhythmically on the hardwood, sneakers squeaked against the floor, and the low hum of music played from the speakers.

"Look who finally decided to show up," Aubrey called out, spotting me as I set up my camera.

"I'm on time," I shot back, giving her a mock glare. "Not my fault y'all like to be here at the crack of dawn."

"Dedication, mama," she said, smirking. "You should try it sometime."

Azzi jogged by, pausing just long enough to add, "She's got a point."

"Et tu, Azzi?" I said, clutching my chest dramatically. "I thought we were friends."

"We are," she said with a grin. "But Aubrey's funnier."

I found Paige near the baseline, stretching her legs and looking entirely too awake for someone who was also up late last night. She spotted me and waved me over.

"Morning, baby girl," she said, her tone easy and warm.

"Morning," I said, pretending not to notice the way her smile made my stomach do that stupid fluttery thing. "How's the superstar feeling?"

"Good," she said, leaning down to adjust her sneakers. "You?"

"I'm fine," I said, aiming my camera at her and snapping a quick photo.

She rolled her eyes. "Do you have to do that right now?"

"Always," I said, grinning. "Candid shots are the best ones."

She muttered something under her breath but didn't move, letting me get a few more shots before the coaches started calling the players to the center of the court.

I spent the next hour weaving in and out of the team, capturing moments as they happened. Nika and Ice were in rare form, cracking jokes that had everyone within earshot laughing. Aubrey and Azzi were locked in some kind of intense shooting contest, neither willing to back down. Even Lou, usually the quieter one, was getting in on the action, cheering for Aubrey like her life depended on it.

"Inds!" Nika called out, waving me over. "Get this on camera."

I turned just in time to see Ice trying—and failing—to dunk on a lowered hoop. Nika doubled over laughing as Ice scowled, grabbing the ball and muttering something about bad passes.

"You're going to want to delete that," Ice said, pointing at my camera.

"Not a chance," I said, grinning.

By the time practice wrapped up, I had enough material to keep me busy for the next few days. Paige caught up with me as I was packing up my gear, her hair damp with sweat and a towel draped around her shoulders.

"Got any good ones?" she asked, nodding at my camera.

"A few," I said, scrolling through the images. "You'll have to wait and see, though. I don't give out previews."

"Tease," she said, smirking.

"Guilty," I said, shooting her a wink.

She laughed, the sound low and genuine, and for a moment, it felt like we were the only two people in the gym.

"Breakfast?" she asked, breaking the moment.

"Only if you're buying," I said.

"Deal," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

As we walked out together, I couldn't help but think that maybe Lila was right. Maybe I did have it bad. But as Paige bumped my shoulder and called me "baby girl" for the third time that morning, I decided I didn't really mind.