UConn Women’s Basketball Locker Room — Post Game Celebration

You were supposed to watch from the sidelines tonight — just a dancer, just a tease in your tiny game-day top and your flawless face, cheering them on.

But no one told Paige Bueckers to keep her eyes — or hands — to herself.

⸻

“You wear that outfit on purpose or just like making people lose focus?” Paige asks, dragging a lazy gaze down your body as the locker room clears out. “You know what it does to me.”

You roll your eyes. “I know what it doesn’t do to Aubrey.”

“She’s not even here right now.” Paige smirks. “Just you and me, sweetheart.”

And you’re about to respond — something flirty, something fake — when a low voice cuts through from the showers behind you.

“Wrong.”

Aubrey’s hair is still damp. Jersey half unzipped. White shorts hugging loosely her hips. And she looks pissed. Not loud. Not flustered. Just… dangerous in a calm way.

She walks up slow, glancing once at you — eyes dragging over the way you shift in your little skirt — then turns to Paige.

“She wears that outfit for me.” “She dances in it for me.” “And when she moans into a pillow after a game? It’s my jersey she’s gripping.”

Paige stares, mouth parted. You swallow hard, heat curling low in your belly.

“Now,” Aubrey says, voice low and even, “you can walk out… or you can stay and find out what it looks like when I stop being polite.”

You blink. Paige stammers out something and leaves, flustered.

And before you can say a word, Aubrey’s got you gently against the locker, thumb brushing your lip.

“You done playin’ with people who don’t know how to take care of you?”

You nod.

“Say it.”

Your voice comes out breathy, soft. “I’m done.”

Aubrey leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth slow, and whispers:

“Good. Because next time she even looks at you like that? I’m not just talkin’.”