Practice was wrapping up and the girls were dragging. Legs sore, arms heavy, the gym thick with sweat and tired groans—until a familiar bass drop echoed from outside the doors.
"That better not be her," Azzi said, already grinning.
Lou pulled the curtain back and immediately cackled. "Oh, it's her."
Outside, in the front row of the lot, sat Paige's black Range Rover, engine running, doors unlocked, and music thumping through the speakers—SZA's "Low" pulsing loud enough to shake the windows.
Behind the wheel?
Jazlyn Morales.
Her sunglasses were on even though the sun was down, and her nails tapped the steering wheel to the beat. Hair freshly curled, hoop earrings gleaming, and a cherry lollipop between her glossed lips.
She had one job: pick up her girl.
And of course, she did it like a damn movie scene.
Paige, still in her practice gear with a towel draped over her shoulders, jogged out and the moment the team caught sight of Jazlyn in Paige's car with music blasting, all hell broke loose.
"OooOOOOHHHHHH!"
"Not the ride or die entrance!"
"She drove YOUR car?? That's WIFE behavior."
"PAIGE. YOU'RE SO DOWN BAD."
Jazlyn smirked as Paige slid into the passenger seat, tossing her gym bag in the back. "Didn't know I was getting picked up by a whole music video," Paige teased, cheeks pink.
Jaz leaned over, plucked the towel from her shoulder, and kissed her on the cheek. "Get used to it, pretty girl."
The windows were still down.
The team lost it again.
That Night – Jazlyn's Apartment
Dinner was already halfway prepped by the time they got there. Jaz's apartment smelled like garlic butter, roasted lemon, and just a hint of vanilla candle.
Paige wandered in barefoot, hair wet from her quick shower, wearing one of Jazlyn's oversized t-shirts and a pair of silk shorts. She leaned against the counter, watching Jaz move around the kitchen—shorts hugging her curves, a gold anklet catching the light, and her playlist humming low in the background.
"You really made lemon butter pasta?" Paige asked.
"I said I'd feed you," Jaz replied, tossing shrimp in a skillet. "Wifey never lies."
Paige wrapped her arms around Jaz's waist from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder. "What if I never leave?"
Jaz turned in her arms slowly, smiling against Paige's lips. "Then I guess I'll be feeding you forever."
The two ate curled up on the couch—plates balanced on their laps, glasses of sparkling lemonade between them, and a movie they weren't even watching playing quietly in the background.
Jaz's leg was thrown over Paige's. Paige kept stealing shrimp off Jaz's plate.
"You're annoying," Jaz said, grinning.
"You love it."
"I do."
There was something about them in that moment—messy buns, dim lights, the hum of summer air through the open window—that made the world feel small and safe.
Paige nudged her lightly. "So... I was thinking about letting you drive my car again."
"Oh?" Jaz raised a brow.
"Yeah," Paige said, smirking. "But only if you keep picking me up like a whole music video."
Jaz set her plate down, leaned over, and kissed her slow. "Done deal, babe."
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One Post, One Player, One Problem
أدب الهواةJazlyn Morales wasn't just any senior-she was the fiery, flawless cheer captain with a perfectly curated feed, a scholarship on the line, and a reputation as untouchable as her winged eyeliner. But one slip of the thumb changed everything. When she...
