It is draining to exist when all you dread for, all you once had and then lost, was just across the room.

It is a nightmare to be Paige Bueckers' ex-girlfriend when she is eyeing you from the corner, in all of her six-foot glory, leaning against the counter with a red cup in her hand, and a girl around her arm.

What hurts even more is the quiet, stubborn part of you that still wonders if she looks your way for a reason—hope.

You tried to walk away. Really, you did. But the new girl snapped her head your way, really looking at you—like she’d been waiting for this, her whole four days of being Paige's new toy. “Jealousy’s a desiase, babe.” Maybe she was.

“So is being a rebound,” You snapped. She lunged—too fast, too prepared—but Paige was already between you, arms out, pushing both of you apart like it was muscle memory. Maybe it was.

“Enough!” Paige barked, eyes blazing, flicking between the two of you. You locked eyes with her then, and for the first time that night, you didn’t feel pain or jealousy. Just the cold, clear bite of clarity.

Because even with her standing just there, with her arms holding someone else back, she still hadn’t reached for you.