Before The Storm ( wlw / lesbian )

Chapter 3

The bright lights made the entire field look like something out of a movie. Cross bars and posts, the echo of distant whistles from the referees,, the cool and friendly scent of freshly cut and watered turf. And in the air, a little wind that told of the coming snow storm. But though it was cold and the crisp air made Grace's  skin tingle, cheer was one of the things where she was the happiest. Shouting, letting her emotions flow out of her like ink in her sketch pens, and out in another sort of art

"K-I-N-G-S let's go!" The Angels cheered, clapping in unison while the 11 men clad in Clairfield colours charged toward the Centerville Cougars.

They were down by 2 points when Coach Clayton called the team to a huddle. The kickoff was about to start, with the second half nearly over, and Grace decided to leave Veronica in charge, needing a breath of air that didn't reek of sweaty teenage guys and the slight scent of corrosive metal from the band instruments.

She turned the corner briskly of gates to the field. "Hey, Grace," came the deep voice of none other than Coen Crowley, who held a camera at an angle in front of a puddle. She rolled her eyes, the never ending urge to cut his long hair itching at her fingertips. If right-handed scissors weren't invented by the same devil who sits on her shoulder, Grace will be even more damned than she already is.

"What are you doing?" She asked, coming to a stop just a few feet behind him.

"I'm in charge of the article Before the Storm, for the paper. I'm taking some minimalistic pictures to cap-"

"Capture the feeling before the game. Sort of... set a scene, of how everyone can come together despite their differences." She finished, and Coen's eyebrows shot up in shock, before quickly smoothing into a crease of confusion.

"Uh...exactly. Wow, didn't think you'd know so much about art?"

She sneers down at him. "Not everyone in this Podunk town knows everything about me."

"Like how you have an undying hatred for the Ravens?" Coen joked, switching from his crouched position to take a picture of some faded graffiti on the far side of the bleachers where no one sat. She glances sidelong at his decision.

"Well, that's not so much a secret, now is it?" Grace joked, thought it lacked any humour. She looked over at the Canon camera and bit her lip, letting a soft hum escape her lips.

"What?" He asked, looking from her to the preview screen.

"Well, id just adjust the light exposure so the effect of the graffiti pops out more. And also angle it a little to the left so you can get some natural light in, so that the shape of the bleachers is still visually there."

The Raven boy's jaw dropped, before he let out a belly laugh, nearly falling into the puddle he was previously photographing.

"What." Grace bit with a snarl, hands planted firmly on her skirt-clad hips.

"It's just- you- you're a genius!" He managed between laughs, standing up and drying his hand on the side of his jeans "why aren't you on the paper?"

Grace scoffed, flicking her hair behind her shoulder as she turned to gesture at the field. "Because I'm apart of that. Not the losers that so lowly document themselves as journalists like Nancy Drew or yourself, Michael Finkel."

Coen rolled his eyes and held the camera out to her. "What?" She questioned, poking at the camera inquisitively.

Once again, the Raven rolled his eyes and shoved it more firmly into her hands, and she sighed, giving in and letting her artistic side pop out a little. No one of importance was around, so it was safe to drop her act for a moment.