Five

When I walked into the team lounge the next day, the energy in the room hit me like a freight train. The music was loud—Nika's speaker doing what it did best—and the air was thick with laughter and banter. Practices were over for the day, and the team was settled into their post-training rituals: stretching, gaming, or just lounging on the oversized couches that lined the space.

I paused in the doorway, my camera bag slung over my shoulder. Coming in here always felt like entering the lions' den. The UCONN women's basketball team wasn't just talented on the court—they had a knack for dragging you into their chaos, whether you wanted to be part of it or not.

"Baby Girl!" Paige's voice cut through the noise, and I spotted her sprawled out on one of the couches, a basketball in her hands and that signature smirk on her face.

And just like that, every head in the room turned toward me.

I rolled my eyes, trying to play it cool as I walked further into the room. "Do you ever get tired of calling me that?"

"Not a chance," she said, spinning the basketball on her finger like it was the easiest thing in the world. "You're stuck with it now."

"She's right, you know," Nika chimed in, lounging nearby with a game controller in her hand. "Once Paige gives you a nickname, it's for life. Just ask Azzi—'Shotgun' has been sticking since freshman year."

"Shotgun is cool," Azzi said without looking up from her phone. "Baby Girl? That's debatable."

"Hey!" I protested, but the room was already erupting in laughter.

I set my camera bag down on a side table and pulled out my gear, trying to blend into the background. Of course, blending in wasn't an option when you were surrounded by this team.

"Yo, Inds," Aaliyah called from the other side of the room, where she was stretching on a yoga mat. "You bringing your camera to the charity event tomorrow?"

"Of course," I said, adjusting the lens. "You know I can't miss a chance to get pictures of you dunking on some middle schoolers."

"Dunking?" Nika said, her eyebrows shooting up. "More like fumbling a layup."

"You're just mad because I smoked you in the drills yesterday," Aaliyah shot back, her grin sharp.

"You wish!"

The banter bounced back and forth, filling the room with the kind of camaraderie that only came from spending countless hours together. It was one of the things I loved most about this team—they were a family, and even as an outsider, they made you feel like part of it.

And then there was Paige.

"Hey, Inds," Paige said, her voice cutting through the noise again.

I glanced up to find her standing closer now, the basketball tucked under one arm. Her smirk was still in place, but there was a softness in her eyes that made my pulse skip.

"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Come play."

I blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"Come play," she repeated, nodding toward the mini hoop mounted on the wall. "We're doing two-on-two. You and me versus Nika and Azzi."

I stared at her, unsure whether she was serious. "I don't play basketball."

"Exactly," Nika said, laughing. "It's gonna be a massacre."

"Shut up, Nika," Paige shot back, her tone teasing but firm. She turned back to me, her expression softening. "Come on, Baby Girl. You don't have to be good. Just have fun."

The room fell quiet, all eyes on me.

No pressure.

"Fine," I said finally, setting my camera down and standing up. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

Five minutes later, I was on the court—or what passed as a court in the lounge—standing awkwardly next to Paige as Nika and Azzi stretched dramatically, making a big show of "warming up."

"You ready?" Paige asked, her voice low enough for only me to hear.

"Not even a little," I admitted, my nerves getting the better of me.

She grinned, leaning in slightly. "Just follow my lead, Baby Girl. I've got you."

And damn it, if that didn't make my heart race.

The game started, and it was as chaotic as I expected. Nika was all energy, darting around like a mosquito, while Azzi's sharp shooting made it clear why she was one of the team's stars.

But Paige? Paige was in her element.

She was quick, strong, and annoyingly good at making it look effortless. Every time I fumbled—missing a pass, tripping over my own feet—she was there, her voice steady and reassuring.

"You're good, Baby Girl," she said after I nearly collided with her trying to catch a rebound. "Just keep moving."

"Good isn't the word I'd use," I muttered, but her grin only widened.

By some miracle—or more likely, Paige carrying us—we won. The room erupted into cheers and groans, and I found myself grinning despite the fact that I was out of breath and probably the least athletic person in the building.

"You did good," Paige said, her voice low as the others started to disperse.

"Pretty sure you did all the work," I replied, still trying to catch my breath.

She shrugged, her smirk softening into something more genuine. "Team effort."

And just like that, I felt it again—that pull, that magnetic force that seemed to follow her everywhere.

"Alright, Baby Girl," she said, grabbing her bag. "I'll see you tomorrow at the event."

"Yeah," I said, my voice quieter than I intended.

As she walked away, I caught Nika watching me from across the room, her grin sharp and knowing.

"What?" I asked, grabbing my camera bag and heading for the door.

"Nothing," she said, her tone dripping with amusement. "Just wondering how long it's gonna take you two to stop pretending you're not into each other."

I rolled my eyes and pushed open the door, the sound of Nika's laughter following me out into the hallway.

But later, as I edited the photos from practice, I couldn't stop myself from pausing on the ones of Paige—her smile, her intensity, the way she seemed to light up the entire frame.

Maybe Nika had a point.