Page 82 of Between the Blue
The rest I can fix in editing.
I’m ready now, my camera set up on the tripod and perfectly in place. All I need is the players. And they should start showing up any second now.
I find myself pacing back and forth, reciting my spiel of how I’m going to ask the guys to participate in this, certain players (player) concerning me more than others.
Once I’m certain I have it down, I leave my setup off to the side, slinging my second camera around my neck and going to join the other photographers waiting to take the players’ pictures.
My head snaps up as I hear a door open, and I immediately hold my camera up. I brace myself, secretly hoping it will beanyother player that’s coming in first. But, of course, I’m not that lucky.
Because, as to be expected, Ben is the first to walk in.
He gives one quick nod to the general group, only giving me a moment to take in his all black suit, dress shirt, and tie combo before he starts strolling down the hallway. I snap a few photos along with the other photographers, and it’s not until he gets within a few feet of me that I realize his suit is actually not black, but a super dark green. And I have to admit, it’s stunning.
I feel myself holding my breath as Ben reaches me, never knowing what to expect out of him at this point.
He doesn’t give me a death glare, but he also doesn't exactly make an effort to look at me directly, which I’m sure will make the process even more pleasant.
I quickly clear my throat just as he passes me.
“Ben?”
He pauses in place, turning his head over his shoulder hesitantly.
I take a few steps to stand in front of him. “Hi.”
Ben’s brows pull together as he blinks back at me. After a few seconds, he nods, making a sort of grunting sound that I think he suffices as a hello, then tries to keep walking.
I step in his path. “Sorry, could you just step over here for a few seconds?” I ask, motioning just up the hall to the photobooth.
“What?” he questions me. “Why?”
I blow out a steady breath, forcing a smile to my face. “We have a special player arrival photo opportunity today.”
I don’t give Ben the chance to question me further, making the walk over to the booth. Luckily, for some unknown reason, he decides to follow me.
As soon as we reach it, however, his feet skid to a harsh stop. I finish turning on my camera on top of the tripod before looking over at him. And when I do, I find him staring at the work of art backdrop I spent hours planning and constructing like it’s a complete monstrosity.
“What the hell is this?” Ben asks.
“A backdrop,” I state, my voice even.
“For what?”
I grit my teeth together, trying to keep my eye from twitching as I repeat what I just said. “Today’s player arrival photo opportunity.”
“You do understand that the point of the player arrival photos are that you just photograph us arriving, right?” Ben questions me. “We usually don’t even speak with the photographers.”
I press my lips together. “Well, as much as I know speaking is already a lot to ask of you, I’d love to ask you anyways to just take a quick picture in front of this.”
Ben blinks, looking at me like I just asked him to rob a bank rather than pose for a singular photo. “Why?”
“For social media. I’m trying something new.”
He looks between me and the photo booth, then runs a hand over his slicked back hair, shaking his head. He takes a purposeful step in my direction. “Cherry, I have been on this team for a decade. There’s a way we do things. This is not it–”
“One photo,” I say, cutting him off.
His tongue presses into his bottom lip, his eyes darkening as he closes the rest of the distance between us. “I’m not some goddamn runway model,” he grits. “What do I look like?”
