soul ties-a paige bueckers story

ELEVEN

PAIGE

the next morning (A/N: don't hate me y'all...plenty of that to come ;))

"Do you trust me?" My hands had lingered at her waist, waiting for her approval before they went any further. There was hunger in my eyes, the same kind I felt when I was locked in on the court, and I could feel myself physically fighting it as I gave up control to her. She hadn't been able to do anything but nod as I slowly stepped into the shower with me, her eyes burning into mine the same way the water burned my back.

We didn't even have to speak. There was nothing but us in that moment. No thoughts of security teams or game days, no thoughts about the past, no thoughts about anything at all that could threaten to come between us.

It was just me and Bryce Richards.

And in that moment, just like all the other moments, I knew this was the real thing.

"I want this," I'd found myself weakly telling her, my head dizzy at the thought that this was happening. That we were here. "I want you."

I kept replaying those moments in my mind as Bryce stirred, shifting closer to me as she came to it. I never slept in on game days. "Good morning beautiful," I ruffled her hair as she looked up at me sleepily. I squeezed her waist with the arm I had kept wrapped around it all night, pulling her into my chest and giving her a kiss on her forehead. "How'd you sleep?"

"Happy game day," her voice was raspy with the morning. "I slept amazing, how about you?"

I felt myself blushing. "After last night, how could I not?"

She giggled into my chest. "Are you ready for today, P?"

"As long as you'll be there." That was honest. I wasn't afraid of Villanova, but I was afraid of my ACL. Thinking about Bryce being there on the sidelines with tape, knowing my injury the way I did, knowing me the way she did...I felt better about playing to my full capacity. More confident.

It also helped knowing Bryce wouldn't be in the stands with everyone. Not for the first game. Not right after we'd give the world the chance to make their voices heard. And certainly not after yesterday.

"Always," she inched herself on top of my chest so she was laying on top of me completely and we were nose to nose. "I'll be right here."

"Right," I moved her hand from my side to hover over my heart. "You'll actually be right here."

"Cheesy," she grinned.

"Maybe," I nodded. "But true."

She laid her head back down to hear my heartbeat. Our chests matched each other in the cadence of their rising and falling. I tried to ground myself in the fact that right now I wasn't on the court. I wasn't warming up. Or on the bus to Hartford to play at the XL. I wasn't eating breakfast, stretching in the locker room, or putting on my jersey. Kayla wasn't braiding my hair. I wasn't listening to music. I was just in bed with my girlfriend. For a second, I wasn't Paige Bueckers. I was just Paige.

"Do you want to see me before you go out? After warmups?"

"Absolutely. And not just for the tape," I winked at her, to which she playfully rolled her eyes and rolled out of bed. I instantly missed her. How couldn't I, when I'd just had the best sleep of my life since my injury?

"I'll leave you to your game day rituals, babe," she said teasingly, slipping on her shoes and giving me one last kiss. "I'll see you down there, okay? You got this."

***

three hours later

15 minutes till tipoff