Page 30 of The Tomboy and the Captain

“That’s a foul!” I made that up. I’m sure it’s not.

Laney laughs then slaps the top of the ball, holding her hand there as I regroup and ready myself for more embarrassment. Serve after serve dives onto different pockets of the court, and other than punching the ball once as I fling my body out of bounds, I don’t come close. Just like she said.

I lay flat on my back with my arms out at my sides as Laney wheels the ball cart into the storage room and Matt finally packs up his crap and leaves. Laney’s shadow casts over me as she blocks the light hanging high above my head. Her hands land on her hips.

“So it’s my call, right? Anything I want on the menu?” She reaches down a hand and I take it, letting her help me up for a second time.

“I mean, I’ve had the lobster at Patty’s, and I am pretty sure it’s not really lobster, but if you want that then go for it,” I joke.

I snag my bags and the two of us head toward the parking lot, testing the gym door to make it’s locked behind us before we go.

“I want take-out and a six-pack.”

I chuckle as I give the door one last tug then turn to meet her gaze. Her lopsided smile is genuine.

“Alright, we can order to go. We don’t really need to eat at Patty’s then if that’s what you prefer. We can order a pizza and beer from Razzo’s and grab it on the way back.”

Her head falls back as she sighs, “Yesssss.” The braid that practically lives on top of her head dangles along her spine. Ipicture wrapping it around my wrist but shake that thought off when her head snaps back upright and her eyes are on me. I think I might have been too late, though, because there’s a coyness playing at her lips. Those damn dark lashes of hers always look like they’re seducing me, though, so it’s hard to tell.

“I’m dying to shower. It’s been a day. No, it’s been a week!”

I smirk as we walk toward my Jeep together then reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet. I hand it to her.

“You call the order in and put it on the Express,” I say.

She blinks at me a few times then shrugs.

“Okay, if you insist.”

We pile into the Jeep and Laney dials Razzo’s, putting them on speaker as she riffles through my wallet. She orders the protein pizza, which is basically Razzo’s excuse to serve people a shit-ton of sausage. She reads off my card after order the beer then gives them my name for the pick-up. She eyes me as they confirm the order then ends the call and tucks my card back into its place.

“This is quite an overpacked wallet you have here,” she teases, purposely holding my wallet to her right and out of my reach as we drive. I swat at it not because I’m embarrassed about anything I have in there but because I know she’s going to see some things that are a little more private, like the photo I have of my mom and me when I was six.

She sifts through my cards first, noting how cute it is that I have three different library cards.

“I told you I could read,” I retort.

“Hmmm, we’ll see,” she teases, sliding the last of my cards back into place. She pulls out a twenty and two ones next and rolls them up to tuck inside her shirt. I pull to a stop at a red light and roll my head to the side to give her a daring stare.

“I’m going to have to get those back, you know.”

She shrugs.

“We’ll see.”

Oh, this is the Laney I wanted to bring back. Now we’re talking.

She pulls out a folded receipt that can’t even be read anymore so I tell her to toss it in the cupholder. I think I’m just about to survive her invasion of privacy when she feels inside the last pocket on the backside of my wallet and slides out the photo of me and my mom. I’m missing a tooth in the shot, which I guess some people might find embarrassing, but I don’t really care about that stuff. I was a cute kid, and Laney seems to think so too.

“Awww, is this really little you?”

I nod and smile on the side closest to her. My mom was young in that shot, sure, but the last year has really aged her. Her hair is thin, though she covers it with various hats her girlfriends have given her as gifts. I can see the wear of losing my dad and fighting cancer in her face, though. Her eyes aren’t the bright orbs they were in this photo.

“You look just like your mom,” Laney says, perhaps sensing that this photo isn’t something to joke about.

“I get that a lot. Thanks. I think she’s beautiful.” I glance to Laney as I smile then hold out my palm, hopeful she’ll give me my wallet back now. She holds onto the photo for a few seconds, though, a puzzling look in her eyes as her gaze moves from the picture to me.

The light turns green, so I cross the intersection then pull into the shopping center where Razzo’s is.

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