𝙻𝚒𝚝𝚝𝚕𝚎 𝚍𝚊𝚒𝚜𝚢 : ᴘᴀɪɢᴇ ʙᴜᴇᴄᴋᴇʀꜱ

1- The Meet-Cute

The gym was alive with energy, the sharp sounds of basketballs pounding the court and sneakers squeaking across the floor filling the air. Paige felt the familiar rush of adrenaline as she dribbled, the world narrowing down to the rhythm of her feet and the ball. She was in her element here—on the UConn court, where every move was second nature, every play was instinct.

At 1.83 meters tall, with blonde hair tied back in a loose ponytail and piercing blue eyes that always seemed to be sparkling with mischief, Paige was the star of the team. It wasn't just her height or skill—though both certainly helped. It was her presence. She was the one who made her teammates laugh when things got tense, the one who cheered the loudest like KK, who always had a grin to share, even when her muscles were burning after hours of drills. She loved this game, loved every exhausting second of it.

Finally, as the practice whistle blew, Paige jogged off the court, sweat dripping down her face but a satisfied smile on her lips. She grabbed a towel and wiped her face, feeling the pleasant ache of a workout well done.

"Good hustle out there, Paige," her coach called as the team started to disperse.

"Thanks, Coach," she replied, still catching her breath. She leaned against the wall for a moment, sipping from her water bottle and watching the last of the golden evening light filter in through the gym windows. The whole place had a sort of glow to it, a calming quiet settling in now that most of the players had left. She liked these moments, when everything slowed down just for a bit.

As she toweled off, Paige noticed someone standing just outside the gym, lingering by the door. The sight made her pause. It was that girl again—the one she'd seen a few times, always hovering near the entrance but never quite coming in. She had brown hair pulled back into a neat bun, her posture straight and poised like someone used to being on stage.

Paige had seen her before, during practice or right after, usually waiting outside as if she was hesitant to come closer. They'd never spoken, but Paige had caught the girl watching her a few times. The girl had blushed furiously when Paige had smiled at her once, then scurried off before they could exchange more than a glance.

Today, though, she wasn't walking away. She was standing there, nervously shifting her weight from one foot to the other, her eyes darting toward Paige and then back to the ground. Paige could tell she was holding something behind her back, and her curiosity got the better of her.

With a lighthearted bounce in her step, Paige walked over, pushing through the doors and stepping out into the cool evening air. "Hey," she said, her voice warm and easy.

The girl startled a little, her head snapping up as though caught doing something she shouldn't. "Hi," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes—deep, soft brown—flickered up to meet Paige's for the briefest second before falling back to the ground.

Paige smiled, taking a moment to really look at her. "You're the ballerina, right?" she asked, though she already knew the answer. She'd seen the girl in her ballet gear before, heading off toward the dance studio on the other side of campus.

The girl nodded, her cheeks flushing pink. "Yeah... Emma," she said quietly, almost as though she wasn't sure if she should be saying her own name aloud.

Paige grinned. "Nice to officially meet you, Emma. I'm Paige," she said, extending her hand.

Emma hesitated for a split second before reaching out and shaking Paige's hand, her grip delicate but firm. "I know," she said, her voice a little shy but tinged with a faint smile. "Everyone knows you."

Paige chuckled softly. "Guess I am kinda hard to miss," she said with a playful shrug. "You're pretty hard to miss too, though, with that perfect ballerina posture. Do you dance here on campus?"