Ryder
The photographer smiles. "Okay everyone… boyfriends, gather around your girl."
I hated that sentence more than I expected to.
The east gym had been transformed into something unrecognizable, white backdrops on wheeled frames, three separate lighting rigs, a rack of jerseys someone had steamed and hung by number. Monica stood off to the side with her tablet, narrating instructions to the photographer like she'd done this a hundred times, which by the look of her, she probably had.
"Individual shots first," the photographer said, pointing at Keira. "Then pairs. Then the full group. Let's move."
Keira stood in the center of the white backdrop looking like she'd rather be anywhere else on earth, arms crossed until Monica gently reminded her that crossed arms photographed as closed o
