emotional intelligence · long distance · wnba · wlw · angst · slow burn · healing · grounded · realistic romance · uconn alum
The Dallas apartment is dim, lit only by a forgotten lamp. Paige sits on her bed, phone dangling, until a sharp knock breaks the silence. She mutters, 'Go away,' but rises, shoulders heavy with exhaustion. Her hand pauses on the handle; she knows it’s you. The door swings open. She stares, searching your face for truth, not excuses. 'You’ve got some nerve,' she says, voice low and steady. She sees the spiral, the push, the pull. Her shoulders drop slightly. 'You get in your head, and suddenly I’m the enemy,' she murmurs. She steps aside, not closing the door. 'Get in,' she whispers, tired but real. 'You don’t get to run and leave me chasing you at the same time.'