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When Laney comes out, Matt picks back up with his filming, making commentary on her new number, which I can tell gets under her skin by the way her eyes instantly dim as she shoots him a sharp look.
“New number, new season. Laney is back,” I say, my messaging skills on point. Her gaze drifts back to me and a faint smile plays at her lips.
“I am back,” she utters, that fire starting to kindle. This is the Laney that gets me into trouble.
“Okay, so once Matt stops dicking around?—”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m here.” Matt sets up his phone tripod, which I’m sure is still filming, and sprints into his position. I’ve affixed a handle made out of athletic tape to one side of the volleyball that I hand to Laney to make it easier for her to palm it through our action shots. This way we don’t need to keep chasing down the prop after every shot, too.
“You just want me to swing then? But not hit it?” She practices the motion and the ball stays in her hand, which is a relief because I didn’t really test the physics.
“Yeah, like that.” I move back into position and get low to the ground to really make her height and jump seem exaggerated.
“Go as many times as you can. I’ll just keep shooting, and Matt, you keep clapping that chalk, dude,” I command.
Laney’s face turns serious, shifting into competitive mode, and I flip the spotlight on to really capture the lines of her body and the flicker I anticipate will be in her eyes. When I say “go,” Laney makes an approach and Matt begins to fill the air withdust. I slide around the gym floor to capture various angles from below as she goes through maybe a dozen jumps toward the net, and when I get the one I have a feeling will be the winner, I tell her to take a break.
The air is thick with dust. That was a lot more chalk than we’d practiced with, so Laney coughs her way to the side door to prop it open and get fresh air while I cup the screen on my camera and sort through the shots I was able to get.
“Amazing!” My enthusiasm gets her attention, drawing her back inside.
Matt, not interested in cleaning, instead starts to circle around us as Laney sits on the floor next to me and hunches close so we can both look at my camera screen.
“Oh.” Her surprised response perks my lips into a bit of a smug grin, and when she glances at me and catches it, she leans into my shoulder and topples me over so I’m lying on my side. She snags my camera from my hands and leaves me to fend for myself as she continues to flip through my shots.
“I have to admit it. These are really good, Cutter.”
I roll to my back and tuck my hands behind my neck and smile.
“I know.”
Laney gives me a sideways glance before groaning and getting to her feet. She steps above me and reaches out her free hand to pull me up. I take my camera back and flip through the rest of the images on my own. The effect came out better than I expected.
“Hey, Matt. Nice work on the chalk. Thanks for helping,” I say, partly to segue into me being done with his services for now. He’s reviewing his own footage, though, and barely registers me with a nod.
“Right, well. Unless you want to try something more traditional?—”
“No, I love these. I mean, these will work.” She clears her throat as if she’s trying to bury giving me too enthusiastic of a compliment.
“Cool, well, let me sweep this mess up then pack up. I can give you a lift.” I raise a brow at her while I squat down and pack my camera into its bag. She gives me a relenting smile.
“Fine, you can drive me home.” She adds ahumph,I think to show off for Matt that she’s begrudgingly letting me be nice to her.
I’m glad to see she’s getting over making things weird. I’m also glad she’s happy with the photos I took. It’s been a while since I did any editing, but I think when I pull them into my computer and play with the color a little, I can really create something special for her.
I finish packing up my gear then run the broom over the entire floor twice. Laney begins to wheel the ball rack back into the storage room but stops at the edge of the court, glancing at me over her shoulder.
“You know, you still owe me a little bet of my own.” Her smirk is defined enough that I can see it across the court. I can feel it. She’s back to being willing to play.
“I’m pretty sure you just want to hit balls at me. But if you really want to go, let’s go. What are your terms.” I set my camera bag and backpack down on the floor then crack my knuckles as if that will somehow help me protect my face from getting smacked by a Laney Price serve.
Laney glances to her right, where Matt is still very much interested in us. My stomach sinks with disappointment because Matt being here is definitely going to take a lot of things I wouldlikeLaney to propose off the table. Still, I can find a way to work this into spending time with her. And time turns into affection, and then maybe more of me making her come.
“I have an idea. I’m starving, so how about this? If I can return just one of your serves, drinks and food at Patty’s is on you. If I can’t, then I’ll buy.” I cross my arms and mentally cross my fingers that she’ll take this offer.
She pulls one of the balls from the bin and begins to bounce it on the floor, smacking it lightly at first with her palm but gradually working it into a more forceful slap as she edges toward the back line of the court.
“You’re on, McCreary. You get ten serves. If you can get under one of them and pass it so it stays even remotely gettable by a setter, I’ll give you the point.” She holds the ball at her hip and lowers her chin.
