“Worry about my focus, huh?” He nodded to Lu Han. “Toss it.”

It's best to spike a ball at it's highest point, where it's certain to make it over the net. The angle of the arm and height of the jump are what direct the ball. Jongdae imagined a red crosshair on Zitao's head and pounded his fist into the lofted ball.

There were some shouts of warning. Jongdae should have angled the ball better, because even if the guy was a total jerk, taking off his head with a volleyball was probably considered overkill.

Regardless, Zitao's quick reflexes saved him. He laced his fingers together and brought his forearms before this face, blocking the ball and killing it on the floor. He did not look thrilled, but he settled for glaring daggers rather than throwing them at Jongdae and consenting to Amber's worried examination of his reddened arms.

Jongdae had to run laps for the stunt, but he felt kind of better.