Page 23 of (La)Crosse My Heart

On the way over, I call Coach Martin to ask if I can take pictures of the guys, to which he willingly agrees.

I’ve got at least twenty minutes before the team comes out to practice, so I set up at the door of the locker room and wait. I take a few pictures so I can test out the different buttons. Inthe past, I’d used a competing camera brand I’d rented for my classes, so this will be a test run.

“I don’t recognize you without the robe on,” Jackson says, walking out of the locker room.

I laugh and shake my head. “You must’ve at least a little to know I’m your neighbor.”

I lift the camera and take a pic of him.

“Why do you have a camera?” he asks, looking nervous.

“Just trying to help build the team with fan engagement. Give me a smile.”

With his hair sticking up, I click a few pictures, knowing I’ll be able to use this at some point.

The team slowly streams out of the locker room and then I see Clark, his dark-blue eyes locked with mine.

To break the awkward release of bubbles in my stomach, I lift the camera and take a candid of him.

“Is this part of the remodeling process?” he asks, looking as though he’s going to throw up.

“Yeah, I need a few pics to post to your social platforms. What better way than to start here?”

I lift the camera and take another picture, but he only looks worse. “Okay, you look like you drank straight lemon juice. What’s going on in your head?”

He swallows and my gaze travels down to focus on his throat, surprised at how much I enjoy seeing his Adam’s apple move with the action.

Don’t be weird, Jessa.

“I’m just not the greatest at pictures, you know?”

I tilt my head to the side and say, “That’s a lie. You were always taking pictures when you’d hang out with Brock. Remember when you made that water slide out of an old billboard sign? I think you filled an entire memory card with videos that day.”

“That was a long time ago,” Clark mutters.

It’s then that Burton comes out and puts an arm around Clark’s shoulders, looking like he’s more than happy to share.

“Look up the Lancers vs. Rattlesnakes game from two years ago. The post media interview is worth the stomach cramps from laughing.”

Clark isn’t laughing, though. He looks like he’s ready to run through a wall so he doesn’t have to stand here any longer.

I lift the camera and take a quick picture of the two of them, knowing it doesn’t show Clark in the best light right now, but he needs to get used to the camera.

“Good luck at practice,” I say, giving Burton a silent thank you when Clark turns away. If Clark is going to be guarded about it, at least I’ll know what his past trauma is from.

I decide to delay watching the video. I don’t need Clark to crawl into a worse place if he knows I’ve seen whatever’s eating him. Not until I can make some notes and create a plan.

I spend the rest of the practice walking around and taking pictures of the guys, happy to have at least some content for a few days. These can go into carousel posts and some reels to get us started. I’m not an expert at it, but anything is better than nothing.

Instead of sticking around for the rest of practice, I head out, knowing I’ve got a lot ahead of me.

My careful plans are going to need to be tweaked after I watch whatever I hope is causing Clark’s struggle with interviews.

I’m inside and take my laptop over to the countertop, opening my search engine and typing in the information Burton gave me earlier.

From the amount of views on the post, this is going to be a sizeable piece of trauma.

The reporter standing next to a slightly younger Clark says, “Walk us through that last play. Few people can send their team onto the next round of playoffs with a last second goal.”

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