“Still can’t throw right?” she asks sympathetically.
“That’s one way to put it,” I answer sourly.
“Show me.”
“Show you what?” I ask confused.
“Show me how to throw a football.”
“Are you being serious?” I raise my eyebrows.
“Yes. Don’t think I can do it?” She puts her hands on her hips.
“I didn’t say that. I just never expected those words to come out of your mouth. I’m totally turned on.”
“Foreplay.” Laney playfully reaches into the bin and pulls out a football. “Now show me.” She turns the ball in her tiny hands, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything sexier in my life. I’ve never dated anyone who played sports before, unless you count cheerleading. The fact that Laney is even entertaining the idea has my stomach doing back flips. I turn her around so her back is flush against my front.
“Okay, pay attention, this is rocket science,” I say. She giggles and presses her body harder against mine. It takes all the effort I can muster to concentrate on what I’m trying to do. Laney is very distracting. Especially when she’s this close and smells this good and is finally all mine.
“First, your grip. Spread your fingers over the ball, two fingers between the laces.” I place my hand over hers. “Make sure there’s some air between your palm and the leather.”
“Like this?” She listens impeccably and has a good hold on the ball.
“Just like that.” I smile. This is way too much fun.
“Next, stand with your feet apart and your knees slightly bent.” I turn her body sideways, never removing my arms from around her. “Now bring your arm up ninety degrees and pull the ball back. Keep everything tight. When you throw, bring your left elbow forward for momentum and push the ball off your index finger and thumb, rotating it under so it spirals.” I walk her through the motions with my hands and body so she can correlate my words to the movements.
“Geez, you weren’t kidding when you said it was rocket science,” Laney jokes.
“Once you get the hang of it, it’s as easy as breathing.”
“So says the all-star quarterback.”
“The former all-star quarterback,” I correct her.
“I don’t see a former anybody,” Laney says simply, practicing what I just showed her. She has decent form, I’ll give her that.
“Ready to fire this pigskin?” I grin.
“Let’s do it.” She pumps herself up.
“Once, together.” I circle my arms back around her, place my right hand over hers on the ball and position my left arm, taking her hand in mine. Two bodies one motion, sort of like having sex. Laney wasn’t kidding when she said foreplay. I’m totally turned on. I pull her arm back, and in one fluid motion we throw the ball. The spiral is a little off, but it hits the tire close to the hole. I think that was my best throw of the day.
“Okay, got it. Let me try.” Laney pulls another ball out of the blue bin. I watch entertained as she positions her hands and takes her stance. Holy crap, I can’t control the bulge growing behind my zipper. I’m fucking loving this.
Laney concentrates on the tire hanging a few meters away from us. I think I’m getting a glimpse of Sporty Spice. I can’t wait to see her on the volleyball court. She snaps her arm back, and with all her might, throws the football. It teeters in the air, not quite getting a good spin, but hits the tire nonetheless. No, not a terrible first shot.
“Crap.” Laney goes for another ball.
“What, that wasn’t bad.”
“That sucked.” Her voice pitches.
“It hit the tire,” I point out.
“It didn’t spin. And I didn’t get it through the hole.”
“Lemon, that’s expecting a lot your first try.”