Ohio to the Bayou

Chapter 7

The morning sun spilled into my apartment as I sorted through yesterday's photos, adjusting brightness, playing with shadows, and framing each shot to tell the story of the practice—the grit, the camaraderie, the anticipation. I couldn't help but smile every time Jamarr appeared on my screen, caught in the act of an intense play, or just mid-laugh, completely at ease with his teammates. Capturing him on camera had started to feel like capturing the spirit of LSU football itself.

Later that afternoon, I arrived at the training field early, hoping to grab a few candid shots before practice began. The field was mostly quiet, with only a few players doing warm-ups. Jamarr was one of them, stretching on the far side of the field. He noticed me, gave a quick nod, and jogged over.

"Photographer's early," he teased, hands resting on his hips. "What, you couldn't wait to see us again?"

"Maybe I just like the quiet before the storm," I shot back, raising my camera to snap a candid of him up close. He laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender.

"Alright, alright, get your shots in before we're sweaty and bruised," he joked, holding a mock pose for a second, which made me laugh.

As the other players trickled in, I found myself captivated by the energy that filled the field. Jamarr's jokes and encouragement seemed to pump everyone up. I snapped photo after photo, documenting the pre-practice buzz and the easy, unspoken bond between teammates.

Practice began, and as always, Jamarr was in top form. The intensity in his eyes, the way he moved with purpose, the fluid way he weaved through drills—it was mesmerizing. He worked hard, but there was an effortless quality to it, as if he belonged here, on this field, doing what he loved.

After practice ended, the team huddled, exchanging a few last words. Jamarr waved me over as the group started dispersing. "You get good shots?" he asked, a bit out of breath but grinning.

I nodded, showing him a preview of a few shots. One photo, in particular, stood out: Jamarr, hands in the air mid-catch, completely focused, with the stadium in the background. He took a second to look, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You really know how to catch the right moments."

"It's easy when the subject's this photogenic," I teased, and he let out a laugh.

"You know, you could always come to some of the away games if you're interested," he said casually, but his gaze held something more. "It'd give you even more moments to capture."

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you recruiting me for the team now?"

"Maybe." He looked away for a second, then back at me. "I just think... you're good at this, Emma. You've got a way of seeing things differently, and I think the team would benefit from it. Plus, it's fun having you around."

The words hit me harder than I'd expected. It wasn't often I felt like I was really seen, but Jamarr had a way of making me feel both important and like I truly belonged.

"I'll think about it," I said softly, smiling. "I'd love to capture more of the season."

As the last of the players left, Jamarr lingered, glancing up at the darkening sky. "What do you think of Baton Rouge so far?"

"It's... different," I replied honestly. "I think I'm starting to get the hang of it, though. I mean, I'm making friends, settling in. It feels like home in a way I didn't expect."

He nodded, looking thoughtful. "This place has a way of growing on you. It's not just the school or the field—it's the people. We look out for each other, you know? Like family."

A comfortable silence settled between us, and then he looked back at me, his gaze softer. "You're a part of that now, too."

It was just a few words, but they meant everything. I smiled, feeling something warm and unfamiliar settle in my chest.

As I packed up my gear, I felt lighter, more sure of my place here. I wasn't just the girl with the camera anymore—I was a part of their team, part of their story. And maybe, just maybe, Jamarr was becoming a part of mine too.