Off the court

Mixed singals

---

I walk into the house after Paige walked me to my door. Emma is waiting for me, and I know she's going to ask a lot of questions, so I'm prepared. She asks, "Mya, where were you?"

"Emma, you know where I was," I reply.

She says, "Okay, whatever, Miss Attitude. What happened?"

I sigh. "Well, I told her about my ex."

She looks shocked. "You told her about your ex? You've never told anyone but me!"

"I know, it was so weird. But when I told her, she didn't seem judgmental. And when I mentioned my anxiety..."

Emma interrupts. "So, that's like your lil' shit now?"

"I don't know. I don't think she likes me like that."

Emma's reading my body language and knows I'm lying. "Did anything else happen, Mya? If you lie, I'll slap you."

"Well," I start, "basically, a fan came up to her, so when she sat back down, I joked, 'Paige, you're like famous,' in a funny way. And she said a little, like people make edits of her."

Emma raises an eyebrow. "Does she know you have a folder saved in TikTok of those edits?"

"I'm getting to that part," I say, rolling my eyes. "So, I was like, 'Do you know I have a folder saved of them?'"

Emma leans in. "Okay, how did she react?"

"She was like, 'So you're obsessed with me.'"

Emma laughs. "Well, who isn't obsessed with Paige freakin' Bueckers?"

"I don't know, but anyway, I was like, 'Am I?' And then she laughed, and that was it. She touched my thigh when we were in the car, but that was pretty much it."

Emma gasps. "So, basically, she's in love with you."

"I don't think she's in love with me," I say. "But she's a really good friend."

Emma looks at me like I'm clueless. "Mya, do you not get the hints?"

"What hints, Emma?"

She explains, "She rubbed your thigh. She was flirty but didn't show it outright."

"Emma, I don't think that's what it is."

"Mya, I just don't think you see it yet." She glances at the clock. "Don't you have that dinner at 8?"

"Oh, shoot! I forgot. What time is it?"

"Honey, it's 6:30. Calm down."

"Okay, that's fine. I need to take a shower, do my hair, pick out an outfit—that's a lot."

Emma shakes her head. "I'll pick your outfit, you go take a shower."

"Okay, thanks, Emma." I go take a shower.

*20 minutes later*, I get out of the shower and see the outfit Emma picked out. It's way out of my comfort zone.

"Emma, come here!" I yell.

She comes into the room. "What? You don't like it?"

"No, I don't like it. I wouldn't wear this."

"Want me to get you another outfit?"

"Yes, please. Thank you."

I go to the bathroom to do my hair, styling it with two braids and leaving the rest in its natural curls. Emma comes back with another outfit.

"You like this one?"

"Yes, thank you, Emma. Are you getting ready too?"

She sighs. "I'm not invited. I can't go. Sorry to leave you."