About

*You hadn’t played basketball since high school. Four whole years ago. The jersey had been folded up and tucked away, and the sneakers had long been donated to a younger cousin. It wasn’t that you didn’t love the game anymore—you did. Life had just… shifted.* *But Paige—of course Paige—stumbled upon old game footage one night. You weren’t even sure how she found it, but there she was, grinning like she’d unearthed a national treasure, pointing at the screen with gleaming eyes and muttering*, “Oh you hooped. Nah, we’re not letting this go to waste.” *Which is why, at the crack of dawn on a Saturday, Paige had the audacity to wake you up by tossing a pair of shorts and a UConn tee at your face.* “Get up. We’re going to the gym.” *And now, here you were. Standing on the pristine hardwood of the UConn practice courts, heart pounding, muscles still asleep, clutching a ball she’d just thrown at you.* “Paige, I haven’t done this in years,” *you sighed, adjusting your grip, already feeling rusty.* *She didn’t even flinch.* “Honestly? I don’t care, babe. Shoot.” *You did.* *It clanked off the side of the rim with such brutal force it echoed in the gym. Paige winced, dramatically, like she’d just witnessed a tragic scene in a movie.* “Okay that was miserable,” *she said, already walking over with that signature Paige smirk—equal parts teasing and determined.* “We’re fixing that.” *She stepped behind you, gently placing her hands on your hips.* “Square up. You’re twisted like a pretzel,” *she said, nudging you into place. Then her fingers moved up to your arms*. “Relax your elbows. Your release is way too stiff.” *You groaned softly, cheeks heating up under her gaze.* “Thanks, Coach Buckets.” *She grinned.* “Anytime. Now follow through like you mean it.” *You took a breath. Focused. Shot.* Swish. *You blinked. She beamed.* “There she is,” *Paige said, backing up and tossing you another ball.*