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mcwriting · 3 years

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The Marriage Project (11)

I'm baaaaack :) Sorry it's been so long y'all but I'm finally on break so hopefully I can push out more content soon! Pls enjoy!

Masterlist

Word Count: 2130

Warnings: little bit of language, mild mentions of alcohol

% approximately the last weekend of October/first week of November %

Sunday, you went wedding dress shopping.

Kinda.

It was for homecoming court. Your school had a tradition where the ladies in the running for queen wore white wedding dresses, so your mom and you went out in search of one.

You’d already gotten your dress for the actual dance weeks prior, so you started at the same store.

It didn’t take long for you to stumble upon one you liked, a slim a-line that accentuated your muscles and curves. There was a draped neckline and a somewhat low back. The entire dress had a grecian feel with the small silver accents dusted across it.

The second you put it on you fell in love, so you made the purchase and set off for shoes, easily finding a pair of heels that would put you at a similar level with Tom.

The next day, you made your way to class for another round of praise and congratulations for the tournament that weekend. The trophy was already sitting in the school display case, the plaque yet to be made with your school’s name and the year.

It was spirit week, so everyone was dressed in clothes that fit the day’s theme.

All morning, people were coming up and asking you about the tournament and homecoming, many of them pledging to vote for you.

Things felt nice.

You and Tom didn’t talk much throughout the morning, but exchanged a few jabs and laughs here and there.

Later, you sat around the lunch table with your girlfriends as usual, this time discussing the homecoming nominations.

“Y/n, there’s literally no way you won’t be queen. I’ve talked to a ton of people and all of them are saying they’re gonna vote for you,” one of them said.

“Aw shucks, you’re making me blush. Obviously I’d like to win queen, but we’ll see. It’s whatever. If Harrison wins king I’ll drop out.”

“As if. No one even likes him. I’m pretty sure he was voted in as a meme. Everyone knows Tom is gonna win,” Alexis stated. “And if Tom wins, you’ll win too with everyone thinking you’re together.”

“Hmm. I honestly hope Tuwaine gets the vote. He’s so sweet and totally deserves it.”

“I think we all know you’d prefer Tom as your royal counterpart,” one friend suggested, causing you to roll your eyes.

“How many times do I have to tell you guys! Nothing is going on! On another note, though, I got my white dress,” you mentioned, trying to steer the conversation away.

“Really? Let us see!” Caroline exclaimed.

“Ah, ah, ah. I’m saving it as a surprise for Friday. The only person who’s seen it is my mom, and it’s staying that way until the parade.”

You continued talking about the upcoming festivities and your excitement for the week, and the announcement of who would be crowned queen Friday at the pep rally.

That afternoon, you went to study hall with Alexis. Now that you were between sports, you had a free period to go do art, work out, or just “study,” so you chose the latter as a way to take a breather from everything that had been going on.

“So tell me everything about Johnny’s this weekend. Loved the costumes,” you started as you plopped down at two desks in the very back of the room.

“Not much to report. We mostly just hung out but I heard one dude had to go get his stomach pumped or something after the cops got there. We dipped out before it was busted because it was obvious they were coming. Now how was your weekend, since we’re finally alone?”

You thought about how much you’d actually tell her, especially considering that you hadn’t told her really anything about yours and Tom’s interactions in past weeks.

“Pretty good. It was mostly just volleyball.”

“Oh yeah? What all went down with Tom? Anna told me you seemed pretty close.”

Your face burned.

“We hugged after winning the tournament. Not a big deal. Oh and we maybe kinda pretended to be a couple Friday night.”

“What? You didn’t think to lead with that?!”

“It was for like a minute while we went up the elevator. This drunk couple was harassing us so we just played along for a little bit. Whatever,” you shrugged.

“Did you do anything couple-y? Don’t tell me you guys kissed.”

You tried not to cringe before somewhat telling a lie.

“I kissed him on the cheek and he put his arm around me. I swear it was nothing serious, Lex.”

“Hm. I still think you’ve gotta be hiding something, but I just don’t know what. And I’m gonna get to the bottom of it.”

Good luck with that. I’m not about to crack yet.

Spirit week continued with people coming up to let you know their votes had been cast for you. The voting ended Thursday so that votes could be counted before the pep rally.

When Friday did hit, you woke up early and tucked your volleyball jersey into some jeans and tossed on your letter jacket, as the day’s theme was school colors and jerseys.

You popped on some mascara and lip gloss, then headed to school, becoming more nervous as you got closer.

The pep rally would be right after lunch, but almost everyone was so excited for the weekend festivities that teachers basically gave everyone a free day so that the students in charge of the event could continue their planning and the athletes could prepare for the rally.

The pep rally was mostly for the football game, but they were also going to recognize the volleyball team’s accomplishments, so you prepared for that and the whole homecoming court thing.

In home ec, Mrs. Flynn let those that needed to help set up for the pep rally eat your lunches in class and then leave early.

You and Tom finished about the same time and went to your lockers to grab your things.

“Ready to win?” Tom asked as you walked towards the gym.

“Nope. You?”

“Yeah, actually. Maybe it’s just because I love winning so much.”

You gave him a little shove as you continued walking. Tom had his jersey on without the pads, so it fit big on him. You admired the way it draped over his thin, toned frame.

A bit later and the pep rally had begun with the dance team doing their routine, then came athlete recognitions.

They started with the volleyball team, calling you all out to the basketball court to wave as everyone cheered. After you all, the cheer squad hyped everyone up for the football team to come out.

You stood in a corner of the gym with Zendaya, as they would be announcing the homecoming court next. You both talked a little bit, but things were somewhat awkward.

Finally came the time to announce the winners. As with nominations, things went in order from freshman to senior, eventually reaching the king and queen announcement. The six of you stepped out onto the basketball court, the pit in your stomach bigger than before.

“Alright ladies and gentlemen, I know that this is the moment you have all been waiting so patiently for!” Mrs. Johnson looked around the bleachers at the cheering students, holding up her paper with everyone’s positions.

“We’re going to start with our third place, the duke and duchess of homecoming! May I have a drumroll please!”

Everyone stomped their feet and clapped.

“This year’s duke is Mr. Harrison Osterfield, and the duchess is Daisy Ridley!”

Cheers went up, not completely enthusiastic for the pair. You felt a little bit of satisfaction knowing the people you liked least had gotten third place.

“Now for our runners up, the prince and princess!” She paused for effect. “Tuwaine Barrett and Zendaya Coleman!”

More cheers rang out than before. Your jaw dropped as you looked at Tom.

“And that means that your senior king and queen are Tom Holland and y/n y/l/n! Congratulations to all of you. Can’t wait to see you at the parade, game, and dance!” Mrs. Johnson called out, dismissing everyone back to class.

Someone came and placed the crown on your head and slipped a silver sash which read “homecoming queen” over your body. You couldn’t help but slap a hand over your mouth.

“What did I tell you! I knew you’d win!” Tom exclaimed, holding out his hands. You so badly wanted to hug him, but decided not to in front of the whole school, at least not until tomorrow night.

Your friends rushed up and congratulated you, fawning over the crown and sash and laughing. Before you left, you had to return the two items to a teacher so you would have them for later that night.

As you left school that afternoon, you felt like you were floating on air.

You were back at the school later that evening, the game just over a couple hours away. There were families lining the street prepared to watch the parade make its way down.

Since leaving the school before, you’d put your hair in loose curls and done a full face of makeup. You tossed on some sweats and zipped up your varsity jacket, taking your dress and shoes along in the car to change there.

You waited until the last minute to slip on the outfit, causing people to fawn over you when you stepped outside to see everyone who was waiting.

Someone pinned the crown to your head and helped you slip on the sash, then led you to the convertible where Tom was waiting. You’d get to ride around sitting on the back waving like you’d always dreamed of doing.

Your heels clacked on the sidewalk as you confidently stepped. Sure, you didn’t wear heels much, but you sure knew how to work them.

It felt like slow motion when Tom turned around and you saw each other for the first time. He was wearing slacks and a sport coat and his curls were perfectly placed around his own crown. You both gasped a little.

“Y/n! You look… you look like-”

“Let me guess. A princess?” you smirked, raising a brow.

“I was gonna say queen.”

You rolled your eyes and chuckled, giving him a little shove. He helped you climb into the back of the car, and someone went to hand you his letter jacket.

“What’s this for?” you asked.

“Usually if it’s cold the queen wears her partners’ letterman over her shoulders if he has one.”

You thought about it. It was pretty chilly, after all.

“You don’t have to wear mine, y/n. Did you bring yours?” Tom asked, making you smile.

“Yeah, actually. I did. Would someone mind going and grabbing it from my stuff? It’s just inside.”

One girl ran and brought it back in a few minutes, and Tom helped drape it over just your shoulders.

“That’s more like it,” he said, giving you a smile as he fixed the neck.

A few minutes later, the cars and floats began moving and families cheered as you passed, waving with a smile on your face.

You and Tom talked to each other quietly as you looked around both sides of the street. When you reached the end, someone had you pose for a couple pictures in the daylight before the football players headed off to get ready for the game.

This was not only homecoming, but senior night, so they all wanted to be on their A-game.

Different people came up to congratulate you and you took pictures with friends, family, and even a few little kids. You were talking with the girls when you felt a hand on your shoulder.

You turned around to find the Holland family, including Nikki’s parents and a woman you assumed to be Dominic’s mom.

“Well I sure am glad to see that people have some decent sense around here,” Grandma said, giving you a warm smile. You gave her a hug then greeted the rest of the family.

“You look beautiful, dear. Congratulations,” said Nikki as she gave you a squeeze.

“Oh, y/n, this is my mother,” Dom explained, gesturing to another elderly woman.

“Just call me Nana, dear. I’ve heard a lot about you.” You smiled as she held your hands in hers.

“Thank you! Tom’s told me about you, too.”

Nikki shot some pictures of you with their family. It felt weird to be in their photos without Tom, but also comfortable, like you’d known them your whole life. You had to hold back a laugh when you took one kissing Paddy’s cheek and making him blush.

Eventually your parents also came over and talked to them, and everyone made their ways to the stadium.

A/N: omg it's been way too long since I updated TMP! I just wanted to pre-warn that next chapter will have the heaviest themes of this story. It will have adequate warnings but I want to make everyone aware!

Thanks for reading!

Send a message or ask if you’d like to be added to my permanent or series taglists so I can verify you’ve been added!

Story tag list: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06, @thenoddingbunny-blog, @agentnataliahofferson, @spider-babe, @stxfxniexreads, @justafangirlduh, @supraveng

#the marriage project #tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland imagine #tom holland au #tom holland series #tom holland fic

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bqstqnbruin · 4 years

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I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make you cry

All I’m gonna say before this is 😈😈😈

Read the whole series: I hate the way you talk to me and the way you cut your hair // I hate the way you drive my car // I hate it when you stare // I hate your big dumb combat boots and the way you read my mind // I hate you so much it makes me sick, it even makes me rhyme // I hate the way you’re always right // I hate it when you lie // I hate it when you make me laugh, even worse when you make me cry // I hate it when you’re not around, and the fact that you didn’t call // But mostly I hate the way I don’t hate you, not even close, not even a little bit, not even at all

Flashbacks are in italics

____________________________

“Why do you think?”

“Come on. Tell me.”

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Your first night in Calgary was supposed to be spent unpacking yours and Evelina’s new apartment, having spent the entire day lugging boxes and furniture up and down the stairs, not wanting to constantly hog the elevator with your endeavors. You were both exhausted, but apparently she wasn’t exhausted enough to not insist you go and explore your new home.

“Come on!” she whines, practically ripping your arm out of your body in an effort to pull you off the couch, “You know that you want to go wander around! Why can’t we just do it tonight, we’ve spent all day in this building anyway.”

“Ev, we are gross, and we are tired. We shouldn’t go out,” you tried to counter, even though you knew she was going to eventually wear you down into going out.

“How are we going to make friends! We can’t go into work on Monday only knowing each other!”

“I love you, too, Ev.” She got up off the couch, her hands clasping under her chin as she juts out her bottom lip. She was right, though: you knew no one in the city and probably should make some sort of effort to change that before you start your new jobs. “Fine. But this doesn’t mean I have to have fun, and we aren’t staying out past midnight.” Evelina starts bouncing up and down in excitement, dragging you to her room so you can start to get ready. “And we have to stay in either tomorrow or Sunday and seriously get to unpacking.”

Both of you start rummaging through the boxes, tearing them open in hopes that one of them will contain clothing that you can wear to go out. “How am I this unorganized?” Evelina asks, tearing open what she thought to be her tenth box, none of them having clothing.

“I don’t think you want an honest answer from me,” you laugh, resulting in her throwing a pillow at your head. “Ok, hey!” you say, throwing it back. “I have my clothes in a few suitcases. Should we raid those and see if we can find anything?”

She laughs, opening another box, “Y/N, I love you, but you have nothing that we would be able to wear out. Your clothes are either business or athletic, and there’s no in between.”

“I’m sure we can find something,” you mumble, knowing she was right.

“No need! I found some clothes!” she said, dumping the box out on her bed. She thrrew a shirt at you, telling you that you were wearing it or else you would be doing all the unpacking yourself. Shooing you off to go clean up, she shuts you out of her room, left in the hallway surrounded by a bunch of boxes.

It’s not that the move was hard, but it definitely didn’t go as you had expected. You and Evelina were both excited for the fresh start, a new group of friends, a new city where no one knew you. Where you wouldn’t let anyone hurt you.

You were always ready much faster than Evelina, so you decided to start unpacking bits and pieces of your room. You open the box labeled ‘decorations’ figuring you could at least try to start to see where you might hang things up. On top in the box is the one picture you didn’t want to see: the picture of you, Evelina, and Thomas on the day before the spring semester of finals your freshman year. The three of you were sitting at a picnic table on campus, surrounded by your textbooks and notes, mid laugh at something Evelina had said, none of you knowing the picture was being taken. You had known him since you were little, the days of learning to swim at the community pool when you were toddlers being some of your only memories from that time. The school dances you brought each other to as dates instead of stressing about having to ask and possibly get rejected by whoever it was that you liked at the time. The nights in college where you would watch movies with each other and fall asleep with the movie running, Evelina coming home and finding the two of you on the couch with the tv on, all of you going to the diner the next morning.

He was your other best friend besides Evelina. He knew everything about you, probably more about you than Evelina did, probably more than you even knew about yourself. He was also in love with you without you feeling the same. The night you found out you and Evelina were moving, he told you that, begging you not to go and stay there with him. You told him you couldn’t and you haven’t talked to him since.

You didn’t know that you had packed it, you thought you left it in your closet back at your parents house. Evelina knocked on your door, letting herself in before you could hide the picture, “Hey, are you ready?” She sees you staring at the picture, tears threatening to fall as you think about the move that cost you your best friend. “Thomas?” You nod, shoving the picture in your desk, hoping that you would be able to look back at it one day. “That’s not going to happen again,” she tries to reassure you, pulling you out the door. “How many girls have their best friend fall in love with them twice?”

Evelina finds a bar down the street from where you live, walking there instead of paying for an Uber, thankful that you were able to take your mind off Thomas. And Evelina was right, wasn’t she? How many girls' best friends fall in love with them to begin with? So what are the chances of that happening twice?

You get to the bar, taking in the scene around you; a group of guys sitting in the back, some college girls trying and failing to get their attention, some other groups of people, everyone in packs except for you and Evelina. “We could go talk to them,” she says, trying to drag you over to the group of guys.

“No, come on,” you say, trying to resist her pull. Those guys were attractive and there was no way you were about to go up to them and just start talking to them like she wanted you to.

“Come on,” she says, ignoring your protest and dragging you in front of the guys, “Hey, I’m Evelina, this is Y/N,” she starts, “We just moved to the city and don’t know anyone.”

You hated how bold she could be some time, but were at least thankful they made room for two strangers to join them instead of you having to stand awkwardly in the corner, Evelina diving into the conversation with the rest of the group.

The boy next to you didn’t seem to be paying attention to her, just like you weren’t. There was something about him that you couldn’t take your eyes off him, his curly hair, the blue eyes, the stupid grin that was on his face. Whatever it was you saw in him, he found something about you that he couldn’t stop staring at. “I’m Matthew,” he whispers. You smile at him, the guys laughing and bringing your attention right back to the group.

“You don’t know who we are?” Elias asks Evelina, the rest of the guys looking just as shocked as he was.

“You count on us watching or following sports, so no.”

Matthew turns to you, seemingly ignoring the rest of the guys. “You know nothing about sports?”

“Well,” you start, feeling your face getting red. He was close to you, definitely trying to hit on you, but for some reason, it didn’t bother you like it would with other guys. “I know about hockey, a little bit about baseball, and then my dad is weirdly into the NFL so Sundays were spent with lots of yelling at his team, but I don’t have a team that I follow.”

The guys laugh around you, sucked into whatever it was Evelina was going on about. “Why don’t we get a drink?” Matthew suggests, getting up before you can say anything. He holds out his hand to you, taking you and dragging you to the bar. “So what do you know about hockey?” he asks you, sitting down on the stool as you took the one next to him, leaning against the bar as he orders something for both of you. You couldn’t tell if the muscle in his arm was popping out because he was flexing on purpose or because he couldn’t help it, but you were surprised his shirt wasn’t ripping at the seams the way it was being filled.

“You don’t want that,” you shake your head, suddenly a little embarrassed, “I just start rambling and it’s never good.”

He laughs, his eyes closing as his smile grew, forcing a smile on your face because of how infectious it was, “Two things will happen: I either zone out while you’re doing something that might make you happy, or I learn something while you’re doing something that might make you happy.” You hesitate, debating on if you should really tell him anything as the bartender brings the drinks he ordered you. “Come on.”

You roll your eyes, smiling at him as you raise your glass to toast to him. “You’re asking for this, Matthew.”

You dive into what you knew about hockey, knowing enough about the history of the sport no matter how dry it was, knowing some of the basic rules even though he had to explain what counts as goalie interference to you, though he didn’t seem to know himself. The last person who listened to you ramble like this was Thomas. You finish telling him, a wave of sadness washing over you at the thought of him. You bite your lip, looking down at your drink.

Matthew reached over to you, his thumb and forefinger tilting your head back up to him. He looked worried at the sudden change that came over you. “What’s up?”

You shake your head, scrunching your face as a signal that you didn’t really want to talk about it. But for some reason, with him, you felt you could. “Just kinda reminded of someone there.”

He studied your face, trying to get a read on what type of someone you meant. “A boyfriend?”

“No,” you laughed, a sense of relief falling on Matthew, “My best friend. Or, ex-best friend, now, I guess.”

“Well whoever they are, they’ve just been replaced.” You looked at him, confused. Before you could ask him what he meant, he started, “I’m your new best friend now. And you can’t tell me otherwise.”

You can’t help but laugh, forgetting about Thomas for a moment. “I think you’ll have to fight Evelina on that one.”

The guys and Evelina sat back at the booth watching the two of you talk with each other the rest of the night. Evelina couldn’t remember the last time she had seen you so animated, so happy to be in an unfamiliar situation.

“I think someone’s in love,” Elias took her attention away from you and Matthew.

“Y/N? No. She doesn’t let herself fall in love that easy. The last guy she dated I don’t think she said she loved him until they had been together for a year.”

“No, not Y/N,” Elias said, the rest of the guys nodding in agreement. “Matty there.”

Evelina scoffs. “No way.”

They watched as the two of you laughed so hard you could barely breathe, Matthew not taking his eyes off you even though you were pretty much doubled over. “Trust us. We could make a list of the ways we can tell that one is in love. And he’s doing all of them.”

---------------

“What are you talking about, ‘the list?’” you try to play it off as if you didn’t know what he meant.

“I know all about that list you were making with the reasons you hate me. I saw it in your kitchen on the fridge when I was over,” he lies, not wanting to drag Evelina into this.

“So what? You’ve known? And what have you been trying to do?”

“I don’t know, trying to convince you that you don’t hate me! Trying to make you forget about that list,” he yells, people around you stopping to stare at the scene you were causing there on the sidewalk. “You know you don’t hate me,” he whispers, take a step towards you.

“You don’t get to decide that Matthew.”

“What can I decide? Because if it were up to me then we would have been together after the night we met. It wouldn’t have taken this fucking long for you to get your head out of your ass to see what we have.”

You take a step back at the bite in his word, feeling the tears fall down your cheeks, your mind running rampant trying to figure out what all this meant. His words stung; you thought he was wrong. You thought everyone was wrong. There was no way this had all been there since you met him the night you moved to the city. “This has not been here since the day we met. That isn’t true.”

“You can’t tell me how I felt about you then, and you can’t tell me how I feel about you now. The one thing I have wanted since the day we met is to be with you,” he tells you, trying to fight back the tears, “And to find out that you were trying to deny that by thinking or stupid ways that you hate me? The way I cut my hair? My driving? You don’t even hate me enough to think of real reasons.”

You can’t find the words to say, pushing past him and heading down the street. You couldn’t take this. He was never supposed to find out about the list. You knew that you were overreacting, but he had no right to know about that. He had no right to spit that back in your face like he was.

“No, no, no,” you hear him say, Matthew stepping in front of you. “Look at me,” he says, his hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “How are you the one who’s mad here? You have no right to be mad at me for this.”

You look at him, swallowing hard. “I don’t? Now you don’t have the right to tell me how I feel. I gave you all of me, Matthew. You’re the only person I would ever let get that close to me. And to find out that you’ve been lying to me this entire time? You know what happened with Thomas.”

“Y/N, listen to me,” he starts, trying to get closer to you.

“No! Matthew, no,” you say, stepping away from him. “Whatever the fuck this was? It’s done.” You let out a sob, pushing past him and running down the street back towards your apartment, Matthew calling your name, watching you run away from him.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, chasing after you. You were both aware of how this looked, two people running down the street, the one leading in tears while the one trailing was on the brink. “Can you please just hear me out?” he asks, catching up to you. “I saw this list and I panicked. How would you like it if I started listing all the ways I hated you and used those for reasons to not want to be with you?”

“You have reasons you hate me?” you say, not wanting to look at him.

He groans, running his hands through his hair and down to his face. “Of course I don’t. There is nothing that I could think of that you do that would make me hate you. But fuck, Y/N. Ten reasons you hate me? You know how I feel about you. You know that you don’t hate me. So why are you doing this?”

You knew he was right, crying at the fact that you went along with Evelina’s stupid bet. But that didn’t matter to you. “Because I didn’t want to date you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, his jaw clenched, clearly hurt by your words. “Then what is this? What have we been doing?”

“Nothing. You’re nothing more to me than my friend,” you lie, pushing past him. You knew he was going to follow you, no matter how much you didn’t want him to. This was just a stupid mistake. That’s all it was. This is exactly what you were afraid of happening when Evelina first brought it up and when Thomas had told you his feelings. You were going to lose him.

You get to your apartment, locking the door behind you. You press your back against the wall next to the door, sliding down and bringing your knees to your chest. This was just like with Thomas. This was worse than what happened with Thomas. You were reliving what was the worst day of your life, except now it was with another guy.

----------

“You guys are moving to Calgary?” Thomas asked you, sitting down on your bed. You had texted him that night to tell him you had to talk to him, him rushing over as soon as he could. “Why are you going there? You aren’t going to know anyone.”

“Well, we’ll make friends. We got these amazing job offers out there, Thomas, we can’t turn them down.” He won’t look at you, staring down at his hands with his eyebrows scrunched together. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Don’t go,” he let out, looking up at you. His eyes were shining, filled with tears that were begging to fall.

“What? No, I can’t do that. Evelina already found an apartment for us out there. We’ve already accepted the jobs.”

“Don’t go,” he said again, still not looking at you.

“Why?”

He closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. “I’m in love with you. I always have been. You can’t leave.”

“Thomas,” you let out, trying to process what he just told you. “You-you’re my best friend, you can’t be in love with me,” you stammer out, trying not to panic even though you were doing a horrible job at hiding it.

“You don’t love me, do you?” he asked, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“I don’t think I love you the same way you love me.”

He nodded, running his tongue along his teeth. “Awesome,” he laughs, pain in his voice. “Have fun in Calgary,” He got up, leaving you there on your bed as you tried to figure out what just happened.

“Thomas, wait!” you called after him, stopping him before he can open your door. “Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving. I can’t be friends with someone when I love them. Especially when they don’t love me back,” he said, pushing past you.

You stood in the doorway shocked at what just happened. The tears were falling down your face as you watched your best friend walk down the hallway, the last time you would see him.

-------------

You pull yourself up off the floor, heading to the kitchen to get some water. There was no way this was happening to you again. You couldn’t be losing yet another guy because he thought he was in love with you.

At least last time, you didn’t have the same feelings for him. You didn’t even know how you felt about Matthew. He’s your best friend, the guy you go to for everything, the one you spend all your time with. You can act however you want around him, say whatever you want to him. He’s the perfect guy for you.

Except that he’s been lying to you this entire time.

You hear the door unlock, hoping that it was Evelina. Whoever it was slammed the door, going towards the bedrooms. “Fuck,” you hear him mutter, freezing at his voice.

You knew he would follow you here. “Matthew?” you call, trying to figure out where he was in your home. “Matthew, get out.”

“No. We need to talk about this,” he yells from your room, trying to follow your voice. It wasn’t like your apartment was that big that he wouldn’t be able to find you in the kitchen. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you this tonight. I want to be with you. Only you. I want you to be my girlfriend.” He finally finds you, slowly walking up to you as if he were afraid you would run from him. “Why don’t you want to be with me?”

You let out a sob, looking away from him. You knew he was hurt over this; you were too. “It’s gonna ruin everything.”

“That’s not a given. This could be so great. This already was so great.” You both stand there in silence, not sure what to say. “Do you want me to be your boyfriend?”

Did you? He made you so happy. There was no guy that you would rather be with. But he’s Matthew. He came into your life as soon as Thomas left, filling that hole that you left at home when you moved to Calgary. He was supposed to just be like Thomas, just be your best friend and nothing more.

He slowly lifts his hand to your cheek, the pad of his thumb whipping away the tears on your cheek. “I hate to see you cry like this, but Y/N, I need to know: what am I to you?”

“You’re just my best friend,” you tell him, his hand falling from your cheek. “You need to go Matthew. I don’t want to see you right now.”

“Y/N, come on.”

“Matthew, she said leave,” you hear from the door way. You both snap your attention to Evelina standing there, keys still in hand, your bag on her arm.

“Ev, you can’t be serious,” Matthew says, walking towards her.

“Out! Now!” she yells, both of you jumping at the sudden change in her tone. He looks back and forth between you and your roommate, panic washing over him. This couldn’t be happening to you two. “Do I have to fucking drag you out, Tkachuk?”

He finally leaves, Evelina rushing over to hug you as you crumbled in her arms, watching Matthew leave your apartment.

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagines #calgary flames #calgary flames imagines #nhl #nhl imagines #flames #flames imagines #hockey #hockey imagines

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Text

♡ f l u f f v e m b e r 2 0 2 0 ♡

♡ week one — kageyama tobio | long-distance relationship

♡ summary — getting into a relationship with kageyama was close to impossible, that you knew. nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from developing feelings for him and eventually becoming more than friends. he was constantly training and didn’t have a lot of time to spend by your side, but once kageyama found himself remembering your laugh on his way home, he decided to do whatever it took to make the relationship work.

♡ playlist

the moon song - beabadoobee & oscar lang home - bruno major blueberry eyes - max & suga

♡ masterlist ♡

Every morning, Kageyama wakes up at the same hour. He puts on his running shoes, grabs his phone, keys and earphones and hits the streets. It’s been his routine since he started playing volleyball. While he ran, Kageyama preferred to keep his mind focused in his steps, the weight he was putting on his heels and toes, his heart rhythm and his mind replaying the sets he had done the day before. He didn’t see running as something he did before he trained, but as part of the training itself. Kageyama was very adamant against listening to music or a podcast during his morning runs.

Everything changed after he met you.

Kageyama puts on his earphones and goes through his mail inbox. Like most days, he sees your name on his most recent unopened email. He downloads the audio attachment and presses play before shoving his phone back to his pocket.

“Good morning Tobio!”

His lip twitches upward.

“So, you must be sleeping right now. Which sucks! Because I just got home from work. Yes, I got safe, don’t worry. Mika and her boyfriend dropped me at my place right now. Remember Mika, my coworker? Yeah. Hey boyfriend always picks her up when we have shifts until one in the morning and they drive me home. I’m kind of tired right now.”

Kageyama hears a long yawn on your side, followed by a thud that he imagines it’s you laying on your bed.

“Let me put on some music,” you say, and a few seconds later he listens to a tune he thinks he’s heard before. “Today’s classes were just okay. I got a grade back but it wasn’t what I expected.”

“But, what can you do?” Kageyama mouths along with your voice.

“Work was also okay. Mika and I spent most of the night talking, she had had a small fight with her boyfriend and asked me for advice. It wasn’t really a big thing, you see…”

The next few minutes, Kageyama listens to you ramble about your friend and her boyfriend, but he has to admit he is paying more attention to your voice than what you were saying. He imagines himself watching you talk and the expressions he had seen you make the first time he had seen you. The tip of your tongue sticking out between your teeth after you laughed at something you shouldn’t have laughed about, the slight pout on your lips as you talked about something you didn’t like or the attentive way your eyes fixated on him while he talked about volleyball.

“Anyway, I know you don’t really care about this,” you say. “But it’s really nice to imagine you listening to me talk during your morning runs. Is it already cold there? I hope you put something on if it is. Not trying to tell you what to do. I know you, more than anyone, take your health very seriously, but I guess I can’t help but worry,” you chuckle. You stay quiet for a moment, and Kageyama basks in the comfort your silence provides.

His mind goes back to those Sunday nights when he’s watching past games on his laptop while he’s face timing with you. You are usually taking a cup of coffee, trying to forget you’ve only slept five hours after getting home from your shift at the bar. You know he has to get to bed in a couple of hours so he can get enough rest for this Monday practice, so you treasure those small moments when the time difference and both your busy schedules let you share a moment. Kageyama’s eyes are fixated on his laptop and you take the opportunity to revise some of your lessons, most of the time finding out there was a paper due next week you had forgotten about.

Every once in a while you take a look at your phone and see Kageyama’s dark eyes glued to his laptop. You bury your nose on the Schweiden Adlers hoodie he sent you last month and even if your boyfriend’s smell has almost completely worn off, you still find comfort in wearing his clothes.

When Kageyama comes back to his house to get ready for training, your voice is no longer in his ears. You always made sure not to surpass the usual time he spends running. He takes a look at the dual clock on his phone and realizes you must be still in class, so he refrains from sending a text and hops on the shower.

The fourteen hour difference between the both of you had seemed like a wall impossible to climb. Not only that but his intense training schedule plus your uni classes and your part time job also took most of your energy and it was a rare occurrence that you could sit in front of a computer at the same time.

But the connection was something he had never experienced before. He had been invited to a foreign university overseas for a tournament. The day before it started, the team had gone to the campus to get to know the facilities, and after they were done, Kageyama had left them to buy something to drink from a vending machine. Not being able to find any, he asked for directions and took the elevator to the cafeteria, not noticing someone carrying a couple of books under their arms standing next to him.

Now it seemed almost fate to remember how the elevator malfunctioned and he had to spend the next two hours with you. After pressing the Emergency button and being told it would be a while, you introduced yourself with a smile. He wasn’t really enthusiastic about getting to know each other but it all changed after he mentioned he was there because of a volleyball tournament. Kageyama can still remember your eyes widening and the questions that followed, all centered about his true passion. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the floor of the elevator, while he explained in broken English every position in volleyball and what they were supposed to do. Even though you hadn’t played any sports seriously outside of school, the fact this guy was talented enough to get invited overseas to play had spiked your attention, and you asked question after question so you could understand more about volleyball.

“So the setter is basically the key player, right?” you had asked, while he scribbled on the notebook you had lent him so he could explain.

Kageyama tried not to smile. He really did.

After you asked him about the tournament schedule and wrote down the name of his team, you promised you would do your best to make it to the game. Kageyama had never really cared about people coming to his games to watch but, once he had won the first game as was leaving the court, his eyes unexpectedly met yours and he saw you waving at him for the bleachers with a smile. He nodded at you and as he disappeared through the gym door he thought maybe someone going to see his games wasn’t so bad.

One week later, Kageyama’s team had won the tournament, and since you had asked for his number while waiting inside the elevator, you offered to buy him something from the cafeteria after the final match. This time, he took the time to listen to you ramble about your career, and how enthusiastic you were about it. He didn’t understand most of the things you talked about, most of your words sounding foreign and new to him. But the one detail he did recognize at first glance was the way your pupils dilated while you spoke. Your hands moved faster than usual as you tried to explain, and you even used the salt shaker on the table as a prop to help you out. The glimmer in your eyes was the same nature as the burn he used to feel in his chest whenever he talked about volleyball. You promised to stay in contact and gave him a small but tight hug when it was his time to leave. He hoped you didn’t notice the pink tint on his cheeks before you went away.

Your love confession came two months after he was back in Japan, followed by the longest and hardest conversation the two of you had ever had. He explained his strict training schedule and you talked about your university increasing the hardness of the classes you took and how little time you had left. A long silence filled the room, and you realized maybe you should have kept the confession to yourself. It was never going to work. There were too many impediments so maybe it would have been better to push down whatever you felt. In the end, you two weren’t supposed to meet and--

“I’d like to try it.”

You can still remember the blush on his cheeks and furrowed eyebrows after blurting out those words. You smiled brightly at him and nodded, enthusiastically.

“I’d like to try too.”

It had been one year and six months since then. To find someone who not only understood his crazy schedule but was passionate about their own work felt surreal to Kageyama. Your plan was to finish your career in your home country and then move to Japan. You had been auditing the Japanese classes at your uni and taking a part time job to be able to support yourself as you settled in a new country. All of those changes meant less time to be able to talk with Kageyama as much as you did before. He assured you he understood, even if he would never admit out loud he missed you as well.

The situation prompted you to find other ways to feel close to him, hence why Kageyama woke up almost every day with a new audio file from you. You went from talking about your day to making him listen to music and even took the chance to practice your japanese. His English listening skills had also gotten better in the past year, all thanks to talking with you and how you would slow down your pace and repeat yourself if he ever needed to. While you recorded your audios after work, he usually recorded his after practice while he walked home from practice. Even if he was always a little worried about the length, you always made sure to send him messages about how happy you were to hear his voice while you ate your lunch or walked to your job after your classes.

Kageyama finishes his shower and comes back to his room. He gets ready in less than ten minutes in silence, knowing he doesn’t have any time to spare if he wants to get to the practice in time. Winter break is a month away, and he wants to give his best before he’s forced to step away for a couple of weeks. He has never liked holidays stepping in his routine, but he knows there was nothing he could do but endure and wait for his training to resume.

Before he leaves, Kageyama checks his phone again and opens the newest email.

Congratulations! Your flight booking is confirmed.

Okay, maybe he is looking forward to winter break after all.

#kageyama x reader #haikyuu x reader #fluffvember #fluffvember 2020 #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #hq x reader #hq kageyama #kageyama #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!

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pucksnsticksnhockeyboys · 5 years

Text

sports metaphor

summary: Nolan waits until the last minute to decorate his apartment for Christmas and unsurprisingly needs your help.

warnings: swearing

word count: 2k

requests are currently open!

“You’re a lifesaver.” Your best friend sighed in relief as he opened the door. You laughed at this, watching from the doorway as he retreated back into the apartment to grab his jacket before leading you to the elevator.

“When’s your family coming, anyways?” You questioned, watching as Nolan refused to meet your gaze. Though his adorable red cheeks seemed to get even more rosy. Nolan had called you last night, panicked, saying he had promised his family that he would host Christmas at his place since his crazy hockey schedule was making it difficult for him to find a time to go home.

“Tonight...” He dragged the word, wincing as you gasped and slapped his arm. The elevator dinged open and you both made your way inside. You leaned against the wall, eyeing Nolan as a sudden wave of stress fell over you.

“They’re coming tonight and you want to decorate the whole apartment, and set up a fake tree, and decorate that. All before tonight.” You groaned at him, running a mental checklist as you thought of all the stuff you would have to buy.

“And I told my mom there would be cookies.” Nolan mumbled and you narrowed your eyes at him, adding cookie ingredients onto the list.

“There’s no way I’m letting you bake, so I’ll do that too.” You teased, elbowing him playfully. He may have been a damn good hockey player, but he was pretty much hopeless in his domestic life. Sometimes, you would show up to his apartment to do laundry—he insisted you used his place to do it since your building was full of creeps and you had caught someone going through your clothes more than once—and would occasionally catch him up on his own laundry. He insisted you have a key to his place incase you needed anything while he was away on road trips and to return the favor you would clean his apartment for him. It kept you busy when he was gone and you knew he loved it when he came home and everything was in its place. Sometimes, you would leave him little notes to congratulate him on wins for him to read when he would get back.

When the two of you finally got to the store, your annoyance had quickly worn off and your excited eyes casted across the multitude of Christmas lights. Nolan grabbed a cart, chuckling at your amazed expression as he followed you through the store. He watched at you worked your way through the isles, letting you decide what would work best in his apartment. He had given you orders to go big, so you threw whatever caught your eye into the cart.

“Oh my god, look how cute!” You exclaimed, holding up a pack of ornaments. Nolan just smiled at you, watching as you put the package into the cart. Your heart rate increased, blushing slightly under his adoring gaze. The domesticity of picking out Christmas decorations was almost too much for you to handle and it was doing nothing to stop the swell of feelings in your chest. Who could blame you for developing a crush on your best friend when he was so adorable?

After you had gotten everything you needed from the store, it was only a matter of getting all the bags to the apartment. That was, until, you realized Nolan felt the need to show how strong he was by taking nearly all the bags and leaving only the cookie ingredients—he didn’t trust himself with the eggs, and you figured that was the right call.

“You’re going to set up the tree, and I’ll start the cookies.” You ordered, gesturing loosely to the plastic tree you had gotten at the store. Nolan had argued that he wanted to get a real tree, but you had shot down that idea by telling him that he would need to water it everyday and clean up the needles. He agreed after you pointed out he barely remembered to give himself water everyday.

“Yes, ma’am.” Nolan teased and as he brushed by you, he reached a hand out to squeeze your hip. You hid your blush by retreating to the kitchen, starting the cookies. By the time you had put the first batch into the oven, Nolan had gotten all the ornaments out of their packages. “Hey, what’s this one?”

When you glanced up from your phone to see what he was referring to, a blush grew on your cheeks. The single ornament he was holding wasn’t inherently embarrassing, but the meaning behind the simple piece of plastic hanging from his finger tips made you turn red.

“It’s nothing.” You were quick to dismiss. From the teasing smirk on his face and the quirked brow, you could tell he wasn’t going to let it go that easy. You sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“Spill.” He ordered, a laugh spilling past his lips as he watched you try to grab the ornament from him. It took basically no effort for him to raise the small object high above your head and leave you pouting.

“It’s just, every year I get a new ornament from my tree at home. And since my flight is so late, I wasn't sure if I would get the chance to get it when I’m back home. So...” You trailed off, not able to meet Nolan’s gaze since you figured he probably thought the whole tradition was childish and you really did not need to see his face when he told you so.

“That’s fucking adorable.”

Your head snapped up to meet his gaze, and it took everything in you to not melt under his stare right in the middle of his living room. He was smiling so widely at you, you thought your heart was going to burst. Sure, you loved how focused and aggressive he would get on the ice, but nothing compared to when he was looking at you with the softest look in his eyes and a lazy grin finding home on his face.

And as if on cue, your phone buzzing caught your attention and your mood dropped as you read the notification.

“What’s wrong?” Nolan asked, having spotted the way your smile faltered and your shoulders slumped in defeat. Sometimes, you really hated how well he knew you.

“My flight home got canceled. And there isn't another flight until after Christmas.” You groaned, dropping onto Nolan’s couch and sending a text to your parents to let them know about your unfortunate change of plans. Nolan shrugged, and you watched as he turned to the fake tree, putting your ornament on. “What’re you doing?”

“Since you can’t go home for Christmas, you’re going to stay here.” He said as if it was the simplest thing in the world. You rolled your eyes, but were secretly thankful he had offered to take you in, even if it did mean you were going to feel like you were interrupting his family's celebration. “And since you’re staying here, this is your Christmas tree, and the ornament goes on it.”

“You can’t just do that.” You huffed, tossing your phone to the side and standing up from your spot on his couch. Nolan narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you removed the ornament from the fake tree.

“I just did and I’ll do it again.” His sass made you laugh as you turned back to the couch, grabbing the box of what you needed before once again facing a confused Nolan Patrick.

“No, you idiot. You have to put the lights on before the ornaments.” You shoved the package of string lights into his chest, moving to place your ornament among the pile Nolan had gotten for himself.

When Nolan had called you and asked you to help him decorate his apartment you had assumed you would be getting the job done with him—not in spite of him. He really was acting like a child, wanting the decorations to be put up without actually having to put them up himself. And you practically had to fend him off once you started frosting the cookies.

“You promised your mother there would be cookies, so there better be some left, Patrick.” You warned, pointing the butter knife you were using to frost at him threateningly. He just laughed at you, raising his arms in mock surrender before picking up his own knife to help out.

“We make a pretty good team.” He sighed after a few moments without conversation. At first, your only response was a roll of your eyes, since you knew that most of the work had been done by you. And most of what he had done had been at the request of you. A Christmas playlist you had put on filled the silence and when it became apparent that you didn't have a verbal reply to his statement, Nolan set down the cookie he had been working on and made his way to your side of the table. “What do you say?”

“About what? Us being a good team?” You questioned, not letting yourself look up at him, no matter how much you wanted to. With each moment that passed it was becoming harder and harder for you to convince yourself that everything that happened between the two of you was as just friends. Nolan hummed, letting you know that was what he had been referring to. “I think I’m more of your coach than your teammate.”

“I’m fine with you as my coach.” The seriousness in his voice made you freeze, and suddenly you wondered if he was talking in sports metaphors about something that really shouldn't have been. You weren’t sure if you were misconstruing things simply because you were holding out hope that maybe your feelings were returned. You were so lost in your thoughts you didn't even register the butter knife being slipped out of your hand until one of Nolan’s large hands cupped your cheek, the other resting comfortably on your hip. “I mean, if you want to be my coach.”

So maybe you weren't reading into things.

“Is this your way of asking me out?” You blanched, feigning an unimpressed stare as you felt a wave of confidence surge through you. His hand on your cheek dropped to your other hip, and you started to wonder if you shouldn't had said what you did. Your heart was thumping in your chest and as a beat of silence passed where Nolan didn’t say anything, you began to panic. If he rejected you, you didn't have anywhere else to be for the holidays, and would most likely spend Christmas alone, with a bottle of wine and sappy romance movies. You would picture yourself and Nolan as the protagonists and probably cry with the knowledge you ruined a perfectly good friendship.

“What if it was?” After what felt like ages, Nolan finally responded. You thought he looked adorable, with his brows drawn together as he tried his best to understand what was going on inside your head.

“I’d say drop the sports metaphors and actually ask me.” As you spoke, you wound your arms around his neck and carded your fingers through the hair on the base of his head. The smile that broke out onto his face was borderline infectious, and had you grinning madly as he pulled you fully into his chest.

“Can’t believe I get you introduce you as my girlfriend to my parents tonight.” Nolan sighed in content, pulling away just in time to see your face drop despite the warmth that grew in your chest at the sound of him calling you his girlfriend. Instantly, he was riddled with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m meeting your parents!” You all but shouted as the realization dawned on you. It was different when it had just been your best friends parents that you would be meeting. Now, it was your boyfriend’s family. You would be spending Christmas with your boyfriend’s parents—and you really only had been dating for mere seconds at this point. Nolan grinned, though you couldn't see what was so funny as you started fiddling with your fingers due to nerves.

“Relax, they’ll love you. I talk about you to them enough, anyways.”

And now, you were grinning like an idiot too. But then you looked to the table and saw just how many more cookies you had to finish and how little time you had before Nolan had to leave to get his parents from the airport.

“Start frosting, Patrick. You promised your mom cookies and I’m not disappointing my boyfriend’s parents just because you're adorable.”

#Nolan Patrick #Nolan Patrick imagine #Nolan Patrick imagines #Nolan Patrick x reader #hockey #hockey imagine #philadelphia flyers #Philadelphia Flyers imagines #Philadelphia Flyers imagine

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andrewmoocow · 4 years

Text

Steven Universe: The Fantastic Mutants Chapter 2: Right into the Danger Room (originally posted on April 17, 2020)

AN: Kept you waiting, huh? After originally deleting the Fantastic Four from the climax of last chapter due to not giving them any dialogue, this is where I now shall introduce the First Family to the story. Well then, let's finally hop to it!

"Here we are Steven, the X-Men's personal training room." Pearl announced as the group exited the elevator, went through the hallways, and stepped into the famous Danger Room of the X-Men. Aside from the small control room above it housing X-Men ally Moira MacTaggert & Gold Team member Doug Ramsey aka Cypher, the area was a large white room decorated with turrets, holograms, and various other traps designed to test whoever trains in there. "So, the legendary Steven Universe in the flesh." Reed Richards announced his presence by appearing behind Steven with Susan Storm, Johnny Storm and Ben Grimm behind him. "Wait, the Fantastic Four are here too?!" Steven exclaimed. "That's right little guy. The professor and Stretch here actually wanted to test you." the Thing stated patting a big orange hand on the stretchable scientist's shoulder. "We've already heard about how you helped those Chitauri and Thanos." "Charles is already sort of familiar with you Gems thanks to your mother." Sue added with a wink. "Which version of my mom are you talking about, Rose or Pink Diamond?" Steven asked, casually bringing up his mother's true identity to the four, which incited an awkward silence. "Okay then." Johnny muttered nervously. "Why don't we just get to fighting already to get our minds off that junk?" he asked. "Very glad you asked Johnny." Reed answered just as sheepish while gazing down at the Danger Room. "Eight Crystal Gems against twenty-four mutants, Johnny and Ben. Sounds like pretty bad odds for you." "We'll find a way around that." Garnet declared as she pounded her fists together. "Now then, shall we begin?" "Gladly." Wolverine smirked and he popped out his claws and the two teams of both eight & twenty-six were lowered down into the training room. Charles, Reed and Susan remained in the control room to monitor the Gems' abilities from afar. "Let the testing begin." Xavier declared. "Heads up X-Men!" Cyclops exclaimed firing his eye beams at Garnet, who swiftly blocked them with a cross of her arms. "Joke's on you, my future vision saw that coming." the fusion smirked before she went in for the kill, punching the mutant in the face. "So what can you do little one?" Colossus asked while towering over both Peridot and Lapis. "That depends. How heavy are you with that form?" Peridot replied with a grin as she lifted the metal man into the air with her ferrokinesis. "My word, I am floating!" Piotr cried in astonishment. "C'mon Lapis!" Peridot muttered to the water Gem. "Go and make him wet! He should rust, right?" "Oh uh, I don't think I can do that right now." Lapis said nervously before slowly shuffling away, inciting curiosity from the green Gem. "That's a little odd." Peridot observed while lowering Colossus to the ground. "Yes, you say she has water powers yet has not used them at all." Piotr added. "And by the way, I do not rust." Meanwhile, Pearl and Connie were clashing their blades with Wolverine and Laura's claws. "Likin' the new sword Connie." Logan complimented. "But what the hell happened to the old one?" "Oh, funny story actually." Connie stated while parrying Laura's foot claws. "Ruby and Sapphire had this wedding that we put together after we all learned Rose Quartz was Pink Diamond in disguise only for it to be crashed by the Diamonds and Blue Diamond broke the first one. Then we went to Homeworld where Bismuth eventually came to help us with a new one she made for me." "That's certainly a lot to take in." X-23 remarked while flipping backwards to avoid Connie's attacks before she locked the claws in her hands with Pearl's spear. "Yes, everything after that did take some getting used to." the white Gem stated. "Between repairing the beach house, making a place for all the Gems we uncorrupted to live in and still sort of recovering from becoming extensions of White Diamond, it's a lot to take in."

-- "At home base is our golden boy Sammy "The Cannonball" Guthrie, as he gets ready for perhaps the biggest hit of the season!" Cannonball narrated to himself like a sports commentator while aiming himself at Bismuth, who was duking it out with both Ben and Johnny. "To say he's been preparing for this moment the entire year wouldn't be saying much, but by God he plans on making this the hit that'll change the way everyone sees his team for centuries to come!" "Hey Cannie, quit stalling!" Magma jeered as she made small talk with Nephrite. "Not even his fans will break his concentration!" Sam continued and then, he began to ignite his feet. "HERE COMES THE PITCH!" he yelled, blazing towards the blacksmith, the Torch and the Thing with rapid speed & a big grin on his face and then, knocked them all down like bowling pins. "AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!" "Sam you nino." Amara tutted to herself. "Is your relationship normally like this?" Nephrite asked the lava mutant. "Yeah, he's kinda like an annoying little brother to me." Magma replied. "So anyway, what can you do?" "Oh, you mean you want to see my weapon?" the former Centipeetle mother inquired. "Well, here g-" Before she could demonstrate, Cannonball was sent flying into a wall by a single punch from Garnet, right next to the two. "I'M OKAY!" he exclaimed. "NAILED IT!" Far from the others, Steven was backed into a corner by Blink and Warpath. "Gotta say kid, you're not too shabby." Clarice Ferguson nodded while flinging her crystal javelins at Steven's shield. "You still got a little to learn, but that's what the professor is for." "Oh yeah? Well try this!" Steven exclaimed, now turning his shield into a bubble to roll around in and raced off, knocking down Clarice and James along the way. "There is so much about Gems that we must learn." Warpath muttered. "Don't you agree Clarice?" "Hey Connie, over here!" Steven called out to his human friend. "Let's show everyone something really cool!" he offered. "Oh, you mean-" Connie began when Logan cut her off. "I'm sorry, what?" Wolverine asked as the girl raced to the bubble and high-fived each other, glowing brightly inside the sphere before it dispersed, and out of it came Stevonnie. "TA-DA!" "What the hell just happened?!" Cypher exclaimed in wonder. "Anyone else seeing this?" Moira asked the others, who were already monitoring the current events. "It seems they have merged into a singular being!" Reed analyzed through video footage of the fusion before speaking into an intercom. "Excuse me new fighter. Can you please tell everyone in the room who you are?" "We already know Richards." Garnet stated. "Meet Stevonnie, a fusion of well, Steven and Connie." she introduced the kids' fusion before they cut her off. "Let me take over Garnet." Stevonnie suggested. "In case you couldn't tell, a fusion combines multiple aspects of its fusees, like appearances for example." they explained. "And abilities too. Like so." To demonstrate, they summoned Steven's shield following by swinging Connie's sword about. "So in short, you're basically two cute kids standin' on top of each other to form a non-binary lookin' person?" the Thing remarked. "Whatta strange development!" "Fusion? Interesting." Lapis muttered to herself with her back turned to Peridot. "Uh, why would you say that Lapis? You know you've had bad experiences with fusion!" the green Gem asked. "Do you mind little one?! I'm trying to think!" the taller Gem shouted harshly, giving Peridot a fright. "Something just isn't right! Who are you?!" "We shall focus on your friend later child." Colossus stated as he picked Peridot up and walked away with her, leaving Lapis alone. "I assume you are very close?" he asked. "Indeed we are." Peridot remarked. "We've had our conflicts in the past, but overall we're very good friends or maybe something more. But still, she never called me little one before and hasn't acted like that since we were first getting to know each other." "You are correct. Something must be wrong." Piotr agreed. "I suggest we keep our heads down and see what happens." -- As for Stevonnie, they had just finished going a few rounds with both Cyclops and Jean before finding themselves getting tired out. "Okay, let's take five for a bit. I'm beat." they announced, officially splitting back into Steven and Connie. "You two work very well together." Scott remarked as he helped the kids up. "Are there any more fusions we should know about?" "Well, there's Ruby and Sapphire for example." Wolverine stated, cuing Garnet to split up into the married Gems. Ruby's headband was now a shiny orange color, she now wore brown pants and the top part of her torso was the same color. Sapphire's dress was currently covered by a light blue vest with navy lining underneath a white top with much pointier sleeves than before. "AAAWWW! Aren't you two just the cutest?!" Cannonball squealed at the sight of the two. "You're right, these funky little lesbians are just so small!" Kitty exclaimed. "Oh you're too kind." Sapphire giggled and blushed. "Anything else we should show you?" "Yeah, you got any more fusions?" Laura asked. Without any hesitation, Ruby, Sapphire & Steven merged into a new fusion that looked like a giant sun wearing sunglasses. "Sunstone is in the house baby!" Sunstone proudly announced, following up by offering everyone a high five. "How has everyone been doing lately?!" "T-this can't be real, can it?" Cyclops gasped at the friendly fusion. "Don't be so alarmed buddy." Sunstone exclaimed. "It's always nice to meet new people. But if those new people do anything to make you uncomfortable, that's NO GOOD!" "Why are you talking to the wall?" Beast asked Sunstone after they had given an important life lesson to seemingly nothing in particular. "No matter. Could you perhaps show us your abilities?" "With pleasure sir." Sunstone accepted the offer and made a pair of suction cups appear, using them to climb up the wall. "And another thing, don't forget to respect your elders!" they added. "Oh god, this new one is just like Wade." Wolverine face-palmed. "Who's Wade?" Bismuth asked, to which she was met with a terse "You don't wanna know bub!" -- Meanwhile in the mansion above, classes had finally got out and the students of the X-Men were ready to call it a day. "How come none of us have ever heard of these Gem creatures before?" Hisako Ichiki asked her friends. "Which one do you think is your favorite? I think mine's the big one with the rainbow hair." Megan Gwynn also inquired. "I find the little green one very funny." Sooraya Qadir answered. "And so cute to-" Suddenly, a loud knock came from a nearby closet. "Anyone else hear that?" Dust exclaimed. The knocking sounded again. "It's coming from over there!" The three mutant girls proceeded to investigate, opening the closet to find a blue-skinned woman tied up and gagged. "Is that one of them?" Armor shouted as she freed the girl from her restraints, and she only had one question. "Where's Peridot?" "Are you talking about the tiny one Sooraya said was her favorite?" Pixie wondered. "Last I checked, she went with our teachers to the Danger Room." Faster than the three mutants could see, Lapis zoomed off to the training room. "Please tell Peridot I find her hilarious!" Dust called after the water Gem, but her words barely reached her. -- "Okay, I do believe we've seen enough!" Xavier called to Sunstone from the viewing box. "Don't want anyone to get crushed if you fall!" "You got any pyrotechnic abilities Sunstone?!" Johnny exclaimed. "If you do, then I think we might have a little competition!" Sunstone was quick to correct the Human Torch however. "I do believe I haven't tried that out yet." they remarked, then they made the suction cups disappear from their hands and landed on the floor with extreme bravado. "Thank you, thank you very much!" "Ugh, showboat. You kinda remind me of another fireman." the Lapis Lazuli that Peridot believed might not be the one she remembers snarked. "Am I the only one who's noticing how different Lapis is?!" Peridot exclaimed. "I haven't seen you act like this since we first moved in together! What gives?" "I'm just not impressed, that's all." Lapis growled. "Something tells me we got a spy around here." Mr. Fantastic announced as he, Susan, Xavier, Moira and Doug entered the Danger Room. "Tell me Ms. Lazuli, what can you tell us about the disappearance of the ocean a while back?" "Oh well, they just vanished. That's all." Lapis answered while fidgeting with her hands. "I know a liar when I see one!" Ben growled. "And by my great aunt Petunia, you definitely look like a liar!" "That's because she is!" another Lapis exclaimed racing into the Danger Room and scowling at her double. "So, what thinks you can snatch me out of that elevator and take my place?!" she argued. "Who are you talking about? I am the real deal!" the other Lapis stated flamboyantly. "Loyal member of the Crystal Gems and this little Peridot's dearly beloved!" "Oh yeah, well which one of you likes this?" Steven declared before he began making fart noises with his mouth, causing the first Lapis to laugh and the second to smack her face in embarrassment. "What an absolute child." she groaned. "AHA!" Peridot cried. "Now we know who the real one is!" "I AM!" the pair of Lapises exclaimed in unison. "Oh please Mystique, you can use your powers better than this." Xavier tutted disdainfully. "It's almost like you're passing yourself off as incompetent to annoy us." "Of course it had to be you to expose me." the second Lapis growled as she began to change form. Unlike Gem shapeshifting, she didn't glow as her eyes turned an empty yellow, her hair was dyed red, scales appeared on her face & arms and Lapis's clothing was replaced with a white leotard that came with matching boots, gloves and a shawl kept together with a skull. She was no longer Lapis Lazuli, but instead her true identity as the shapeshifter Mystique. "Frankly, we knew this part of our plan wouldn't end well." "We?" Steven asked, but the X-Men knew exactly who she was talking about. "The Brotherhood!" Iceman shouted when the alarms sounded. "Oh hey, speak of the devil." he muttered bemusedly. "No offense Kurt." "No time to talk, we must go now!" Nightcrawler commanded while Mystique made a break for it. "You are exactly right Wagner." Scott declared. "X-Men, let's move out!" -- Where the proud front doors to Xavier's school once stood, now there was only a hole created by a massive man dressed in red, most notably a large helmet covering his entire head. "Okay ya walkin' talkin' rock candy, where are you?!" Cain Marko, better known as the Juggernaut, roared. "It's a good thing Mystique planted that hearing bug on herself just in case." his amphibious partner Toad added. "I just can't wait to see those pebbles for real!" "Hello boys." Mystique greeted her fellow mutants as she stepped out of the shadows. "I suppose you may have already gotten the news." she said. "Well I got worse news: they're after me." And Raven was right. The Crystal Gems came charging after the mutant and took up arms against the two new mutants. "And you two are?" Garnet asked. "Pardon me for being so rude." Juggernaut stated. "You can call me the Juggernaut, bitch!" he roared. "And we're all from the Brotherhood of Mutants, here for that brat with the shield!" "Let me guess, is this about my mom?" Steven asked, exasperated how most of his enemies come after him because of Rose Quartz. "No, we don't care about her! The master only wants you!" Mortimer hissed. "Now just come quietly and none of your rainbow friends will get hurt." "No dice Kermit!" Amethyst shouted. "Steven, keep yourself away from these guys and get everyone to safety! The OG-3 got this handled!" she ordered the boy. "Right!" Steven accepted. "X-Men, I need you to help me find the students!" As Steven led the mutants and the Fantastic Four away; Garnet, Amethyst & Pearl charged at Juggernaut, Toad & Mystique with weapons ready. "Do you wish to know the qualities of the mighty toad?!" Mortimer bragged as his long tongue tangled with Amethyst's whip. "Wait wait, I think I got this!" Amethyst exclaimed. "This can happen to them." Suddenly, Amethyst tossed Toynbee around by her whip, still tangled with his tongue, and smashed him into the ground multiple times. "Okay!" Mortimer declared, getting more desperate with each pound. "I surrender! Same thing that happens to everyone else! Make it stop! I'm gonna be sick!" "What business do you have coming here following us and replacing Lapis?" Pearl asked as her spear clashed against Mystique's knife. "We are simply in league with someone who wants that child's gemstone." Mystique replied. "He desires it for experimental purposes." "If you think you can take Steven from us, then you got another thing coming!" Pearl howled protectively. -- "Okay, that should be all the students." Cyclops announced while doing a headcount of the school's student body. "I swear, we should really increase defenses at some point and maybe build a stronger building." "But I on the other hand believe the school being damaged builds character." Colossus responded. "So what can we do now guys?" Steven asked his fellow mutants. "I mean, is there any way we can just reason with these villains and make them leave the place?" "Don't you go thinking some cutie pie words will just make us surrender pink brat!" a new mutant declared emerging from the dust & rubble. He looked very similar to Wolverine, but looked more feral with blank white eyes, crazy blonde hair and a red & brown costume. Beside him was a pale Japanese woman dressed in tight black leather that had an Oriental style to it. Also like Logan, they both had metal claws emerging from their hands. "Creed. Oyama." Logan snarled at Sabretooth and Lady Deathstrike. "Looks like we almost got the whole Brotherhood here." Emma Frost implied. And just as she said so, a morbidly obese man in a blue singlet came rolling in using his fat body. "HOWDY TRAITOR!" the Blob shrieked. "And lookie here, we got us a good one!" "Why don't you just hand over the boy and no one will have to get hurt?" a pyrokinetic mutant offered while standing alongside another member of the Brotherhood in steel blue armor who was causing the school to slowly fall apart. "Naw just kidding to be honest, someone is probably gonna get hurt no matter which side they're on!" "Don't get too cocky John." the Brotherhood's earth-moving tactician Avalanche coldly reminded Pyro. "Now where could Tom be?" "Right here gang! And guess who I found?" the plant controlling Black Tom Cassidy announced while having assisted Juggernaut, Toad & Mystique in detaining Garnet, Amethyst & Pearl with his vines. "Seriously, who are you crazy people?!" Lapis exclaimed in fright at just how one man was able to defeat three powerful Gems. "They're the Brotherhood of Mutants, a group of extremists dedicated to more violent ways of mutant peace." Jubilee exposited. "And by the way, what do you want now?!" "They want Steven! I don't know why exactly, but they're working for someone who wants him for science junk!" Amethyst cried out. "That's not untrue runt." the Brotherhood's leader Magneto concurred while descending from the sky in a sphere of purple energy. "I do apologize for making this much of a scene but I implore you all, give us the child and you'll go free." "You shall do no such thing Erik." Xavier boldly rebuked the master of magnetism. "Just who are you in alliance with?" "Well, it should be someone quite familiar to some other guests of yours." Magneto answered while looking at Reed and company, who knew exactly who he was talking about. "Doom." Richards muttered in shock. -- As the invasion of the mansion went on, a man dressed in green robes and silver armor watched everything play out through a holographic screen in his castle in the nation of Latveria. Its literally iron-fisted ruler Victor von Doom slouched in his throne as he watched the Brotherhood of Mutants contend with the Crystal Gems and their new allies before he got up and walked towards the screen. With a devilish grin that couldn't be seen through his emotionless mask, he traced a circle around Steven and let out a menacing laugh. "Soon child, your gemstone shall belong to Doom." -- At long last, chapter two is done! Yeah, tons of things got in the way of its creation like my bad habit of unintentional procrastinating along with a certain virus that's been ruining everyone's fun lately. But on the bright side, I've been able to get this out long after the grand conclusion of Steven Universe Future, so I'd have a lot to work with for future stories. But for now, stay safe out there in these trying times and stay tuned.

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goldenhemmings · 6 years

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Stealing Second | Baseball!Shawn (Part Five)

Hello again, and for the last time (at least regarding this series)! This is gonna do it for Stealing Second, and it wouldn’t be right of me to not take the time to thank every single one of you that ever took time out of your day to read the writing that I’ve been putting out. When I posted part one of this I was seriously not expecting anyone to care about my stupid baseball obsession, and yet here we are. Thank you guys for your time, your kind words and messages, and for sticking with me through long periods of time inbetween updates. I cannot thank y’all enough for supporting this series, it has been so much fun for me to write and share. This part is 9.4k words, and I’d so love to hear your feedback on it when you read it. Here we go!!

Shawn didn’t understand. He stormed down the hallway towards the elevator, frustrated fists raking through his curls. He all-but punched the 12 button, backing against the wall and letting the back of his head fall against it as the elevator began its ascent to his floor. Everything had been going so well, and then Y/N went and threw him a curveball that there was no chance he could hit. He hadn’t seen it coming, and he didn’t know how to handle it. He understood her reasoning, but at the same time...he didn’t. It wasn’t fair what was happening to her, but were a few unexpected roadblocks really all it took to make her walk away? She was going to readily give him up to bow down to the supposed expectations of team higher-ups that she couldn’t control? He knew it made sense to her, that she was thinking of herself, but he didn’t understand why it had to be like this. He couldn’t understand, and he especially didn’t believe her when she said there was nothing he could do about it.

He obviously had plenty of connections with the team; there had to be at least one person who could help. His coach, the team’s general manager, an executive...anyone. He was intent on finding a way for her to have the best of both worlds, because he loved her. That, however, was new. He hadn’t yet admitted to himself those feelings before he’d found himself inadvertently admitting them to her in the heat of the moment. He wished the words hadn’t been said that way; she acted like she hadn’t even heard them. He’d wanted them to mean more. As Shawn turned the key into the lock of his apartment door, he resolved to find a way to fix things. Y/N couldn’t (or wouldn’t, he didn’t know), so he would. He needed to talk to her somehow, when both of them were more level-headed, and ask what he could do; there had to be at least one thing, despite what she said. For her, he’d figure it out.

He just had to find a way to get her alone.

---------------

“Don’t shoot the messenger.”

You looked up from your computer, which you’d been bent over for the past three straight hours throwing yourself head-first into your work. You watched out of the corner of your eye as Cassidy re-enter your shared office before she flopped down into the swivel chair at her desk. “What?” you laughed. “Did something happen in your meeting with the PR Director?”

“Y/N, just start calling him Curt already,” she giggled, crossing one of her legs over the other. “It’s not weird.”

You rolled your eyes. “Yeah, whatever. Anyways, what’s with the cryptic ‘don’t shoot the messenger?’”

She sighed. “Curt just told me that Sports Illustrated is sending a team to Toronto on Friday. They want to put a player on their cover, that’s what the meeting was about.”

“Holy shit!” you cried. Sports Illustrated covers were a massive deal, and it would be huge for the team to secure one. It was obviously a last-minute decision, considering that the SI team would be coming to Toronto in only two days. “Who are they covering?”

Cassidy groaned. “This is the part where I’d expect you to shoot me.”

You laughed dryly; now you understood. “It’s Shawn, isn’t it?” you asked, though it came out like a flat statement. You’d been doing so well distracting yourself from thinking about him the past twenty-four hours; you didn’t particularly want to have an actual conversation with him as the sole subject. Cassidy nodded, one side of her mouth quirked up into a sympathetic smile.

“Good for him, I guess,” you said, returning your focus to your computer. “It’s a big deal, and it’s not like he hasn’t earned it.”

“Well, as glad as I am to hear you say that, you’re probably gonna change your mind.”

You scoffed. “Why?”

“Well, we work in Public Relations.”

“I’m aware,” you laughed. “What’s going on with you, Cass? You’re being weird.”

Another sigh. “As PR staff, we have to preside over everything that connects the Blue Jays with the fans. This SI article will be a media publication about the team, so our department has to...oversee it.”

“Cassidy,” you warned, though you had a gut feeling you knew where this was going. “Define ‘oversee it.’”

“We have to make sure that SI presents Shawn in a way that’s to the team’s liking. Which means we have to...be there. For the interview. And the photoshoot, too. Basically what I’m trying to say is that you’re going to be trapped in a room with Shawn for an entire day, and there’s nothing you can do to get out of it, so I thought I’d at least warn you now so you had time to prepare.”

Great. “It’ll be fine,” you said flatly, though you knew fine was the last word you’d use to describe the way you felt about the situation. Cassidy sensed your apprehension, evidenced in a subtle raise of her eyebrows.

“You sure about that?”

You huffed and looked up from your computer. “It doesn’t really matter if I am or not. I’m just going to be professional.” In the off chance that there were going to be any executives present at the shoot, it was a chance for you to show that you took your job seriously and didn’t have any conflicting personal relationships that could jeopardize that. At least not anymore.

Cassidy didn’t seem to fully buy your confidence. “Well, if you need anything on Friday, just let me know. I want to make sure this isn’t too hard for you.”

“Why would it be hard? It’s my job.”

“Yes, and once again Shawn has been put in a place that could potentially interfere with that.”

“Not anymore, Cass,” you answered, a little more coldly than you’d intended. “That’s why we’re no longer together.”

She didn’t answer, instead turning in her swivel chair to return to her work. She didn’t appear to be convinced that you were seemingly unbothered by what was to come. You weren’t sure that you were convinced, either.

---------------

You learned right after waking up Friday morning in an email from Curt that the entire PR department was “expected to be wearing team attire for the duration of Sports Illustrated’s time with the Blue Jays in order to maintain a professional and fun work environment.” Just your luck. Team attire meant Jays jerseys, and you wanted to scream as you sifted through your closet in search of an outfit. You had four fucking jerseys, and they all had Shawn’s name on them. You stubbornly pulled the one uniform that actually belonged to you down from its hanger, throwing it onto your bed along with a pair of black jeans.

You remembered your mother giving you that jersey the day you left for Toronto. It was her idea of a parting gift; a symbol for how proud she was of you for finally getting your foot in the door of the MLB. She knew Shawn was your favorite player at the time, and had opted for it to be his name that was embroidered onto the back of the jersey. It was what you were wearing when you met Shawn, and it was also what you’d be wearing when you had to finally face him for the first time since breaking things off. Funny how things always seemed to come full circle.

You walked to work as usual, stepping through the door right at eight. You took the elevator up to the fourth floor and navigated your way to the room Curt had described as the location of the shoot. You began to hear noise as you got further down the hallway, and you ducked into the spacious room where people were hustling to set things up. You felt a little lost until your eyes found Cassidy standing in a white jersey, and you did your best to push your way through the room to get to her.

“Hey!” she exclaimed as you approached her, always so full of energy--even at eight in the morning. “Whose jersey have you got on?”

You rolled your eyes. “My morning was fine, thanks for asking. How was yours?”

She groaned, looking up at the ceiling. “Don’t be lame, Y/N.”

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” you retorted, and Cassidy laughed.

“Touche,” she smiled, nudging you with her shoulder. “Though, you could’ve just asked to borrow one of my jerseys so you didn’t have to wear Shawn’s,” she continued, and you scoffed.

“Wish I’d thought of that about two hours ago. Too late now.”

She shrugged. “Oh well. It’ll be fun to watch him go a little nuts when he sees you.”

“Yeah, maybe for you.” Cassidy laughed again, and you smiled and nudged her back.

Not long after, the room had cleared of everyone except the small Sports Illustrated team and the six of you on the PR staff, identifiable by the jerseys you were all wearing. You hadn’t realized Shawn, who you now had a perfect view of thanks to the sudden decrease of people, had been in the room the whole time. He was shaking hands and talking with a middle-aged man who you assumed was the interviewer as people bustled around them setting up tape recorders to catch the audio and chairs for them to sit in. The interviewer clapped his hands and announced that he was starting, asking everyone to be quiet.

The PR staff all had the same job, which was to follow the interview and flag any questions or answers that were phrased unfavorably or could be taken the wrong way, but the questions were all as you’d expected: asking about baseball’s involvement in Shawn’s childhood, how much it meant to be playing for his hometown team, the Rookie of the Year rumors, his teammates, his coaches, et cetera. It’d been so long since you had paid attention to him being interviewed at the games that you’d forgotten how well-spoken he was. You almost hated how he always seemed to know exactly what to say and when to say it. But before long, the interviewer was beginning to enter a territory that was making you slightly nervous.

“Does being away so frequently make it difficult to maintain a consistent personal life?”

“Mmm,” Shawn mused, looking off to the side as he thought. “Not really. Anyone I want to talk to is just a phone call away when the team’s on the road. The majority of my personal life involves my teammates anyways, though, so it works out.”

“Speaking of your teammates, who would you say you’re the closest to? Which one has had the most impact on how you’ve adjusted to a life in the big leagues?”

“Well they’re all great guys and they’ve all been amazing to me in their own way, but I’ve gotten the closest to Justin Smoak, for sure,” Shawn answered, not even taking a second to think about it. “It sucks that he’s gonna be on the DL for the rest of the season. From my first practice with the team, he made it a point to take me under his wing and really show me how things work around here. Even aside from baseball, he’s so much fun to be around. I love hanging out with him and his wife on off days.”

The interviewer grinned and cocked his head to the side, looking down at the cue card in his hands. “That actually provides me with a perfect transition to my next question; people want to know if you’ve been able to find a girlfriend since going pro.” You almost wanted to laugh. The people reading Sports Illustrated were the last group that would give a shit whether or not Shawn had a girlfriend, and you hated questions like that in any kind of interview; what did it matter? The interviewer would be wasting space if he wrote that question into the magazine. Regardless, you found yourself holding your breath in anticipation of Shawn’s answer. His eyes flicked up to you briefly, and you felt your own eyes widen as you were filled with the sudden feeling that he was going to say something stupid like it’s complicated, right Y/N? But then he looked back at the interviewer, and all was well again.

“Working on it,” he laughed, and you let all your air out at once. It was a safe answer, and it wasn’t exactly a lie. At least not from his point of view.

The interview ended quite quickly after that, Shawn shaking the interviewer’s hand after the two of them posed for a few pictures. With the first part out of the way, it was time for the shoot itself. Shawn was hurried off, likely to change into his Toronto uniform, as the SI crew began moving the room around to assemble the photo set (which was really just a couple of fancy white bed sheet-looking pieces of fabric to be used as a background). You tuned out Cassidy’s comments about the interviewer asking Shawn if he had a girlfriend and made a mental note to flag that question when Curt asked for your feedback. You caught yourself looking all around the room as people bustled about; what you were looking for you weren’t sure, until you saw Shawn re-enter in full uniform and you realized you’d been subconsciously scanning the room for him. You rolled your eyes at how predictable you were even without trying, but then internally came to the conclusion that just because you wouldn’t let yourself touch didn’t mean you couldn’t look. Because, really, it’d be nearly impossible to keep your eyes off of Shawn for the entire day, and everyone else would be looking at him, too; you wouldn’t appear to be staring at him any more than the next person. And he was always a sight to be seen in that uniform.

You were brought from your little space-out by the photographer’s bellowing voice taking command of the room. “Let’s get started, yeah?” he called out, stepping forward with his camera held carefully in his hands. “Shawn, let’s have you step onto the set.” You watched a little too intently as Shawn made his way in front of the white background, adjusting his hat and making sure his blue jersey was properly tucked into his white baseball pants. The photographer set him up with a wooden bat casually resting on his shoulder, then took a step back and frowned. “I don’t like this,” he muttered, evidently lost in thought. “Can’t see his face. Gonna have to lose the hat.”

“You,” he said, sending you a pointed glance and jabbing his finger in your direction. “Could you go get his cap?”

Your mouth formed a tight smile. “Sure,” you responded, though you knew it sounded strangled. You weren’t even the closest person to Shawn, but of course the photographer just had to ask you of all people. So much for your look, don’t touch rule; just your luck. You were further disgruntled by the fact that Shawn didn’t take the hat off of himself and hand it to you; he made you reach up and take it off yourself. Of course he did. He knew what he was doing. You avoided eye contact as you took the cap and turned to make your way off the set, but the photographer held up his hand.

“Wait, one more thing. Do me a favor and fix that piece of hair, I don’t want it over his face like that.”

He had to be kidding. You sighed and turned back around, stepping over to brush the hair off his forehead like you’d been instructed. You could feel Shawn’s eyes on you, and you were almost uncomfortable under the heat of his gaze; you were still somehow physically affected by him staring at you, but in a different way than usual. It usually made you excited, but now you were almost nervous, like there was a knot of anticipation in your stomach. You took a deep, steadying breath. As if things weren’t already hard enough without him looking at you like that.

“Thank you,” Shawn whispered as you took a step back, his eyes still glued to your face.

“Just doing my job,” you replied flatly, even though fixing Shawn’s hair for a photoshoot was in no way a part of your job description. You walked back over to stand by Cassidy, who shot you a small smirk.

“Have fun?”

“A blast,” you muttered sarcastically, clutching Shawn’s hat in your fist a little tighter than was necessary.

Three hours, two outfit changes, and one headline brainstorming session later, the lead from SI officially called a wrap. Their media team wasted no time importing the photos to make a digital manipulation of what the cover would look like, the words “Toronto Takes Off” in big, blue letters at the bottom of the page, a photo of Shawn taking up the whole cover. Curt cleared it for production, and with that the Sports Illustrated team began packing their equipment and heading out the door. No surprise to you, Shawn was thanking every single person as they began to trickle out.

You turned to Cassidy, your back to Shawn, and began casually talking to her for all of ten seconds before she cut you off. “Not to freak you out or anything, but Shawn’s coming over here.”

You could feel your heart rate quicken, hating yourself for still involuntarily getting excited at the thought of even just talking to him. “Well keep talking to me then,” you pleaded, not daring to turn over your shoulder. “He’d never interrupt, he’s too polite.”

Cassidy sighed. “Y/N, I’m doing this because I love you,” she replied, an apologetic smile on her face as she began to back away from you. “You can’t avoid him forever. You need to talk to him.” Your eyes blew wide.

“Cassidy,” you hissed through gritted teeth. “Where are you going?”

“Sorry, friend. It’s not interrupting anything if I’m not here. Fill me in when you’re done.”

There was no point in you calling out after her, as she was quickly out of earshot. As soon as she was just about out of the room, you heard a shy “hey” from behind you. You reluctantly turned over your shoulder to face Shawn, forcing yourself to keep a neutral expression.

“Nice choice of jersey,” he continued with a small smirk, nodding at the blue top. You refrained from rolling your eyes; something like this happening was exactly what you were worried about that morning.

“Thanks,” you shrugged. “My jerseys kind of all have the same name on them, it’s not like I really have options.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s not a bad thing. You look good in 98.”

You took a deep breath, choosing to not acknowledge his comment. “Is there something specific you wanted to talk about? I just...probably have to get back to work soon.”

He reached his hand up to scrub the back of his neck. “Oh, I was just wondering if you’ve come up with anything I can do to help you with what’s going on at work? I know I’ve offered before but I want to make sure you know how easily I could get to the general manager or someone like that and see if they could do anything about it. It really would be no trouble.”

You sighed. “That’s a sweet offer, Shawn, but I don’t report to the general manager. I already told you there’s nothing you can do, and even if there were, people aren’t going to change their opinions of me just because someone important comes along and intimidates them into having to play nice. Besides, if they heard about you trying to come to my rescue everything would just be worse.”

“I’m not trying to ‘rescue’ you, Y/N, I just want to help.”

“I know, Shawn, but that’s not how people would see it.”

“Why do you care so much about what everyone thinks of you?”

You ran a hand over your face, trying not to get frustrated. “We’ve already had this conversation, can we please not have a part two?”

“There’s gonna be as many parts as it takes for you to realize that you’re doing exactly what you’re supposed to be doing at work and that doesn’t change whether you’re with me or you’re not or whether people like you or not. I understand that you’re worried about getting a ‘real’ job after this, but how you’re doing in your job now is all that should matter for that.” He paused, taking a deep breath and scrubbing a hand over his face before continuing, more levelly. “I’m sorry. I’m trying to keep my cool, but I don’t want to let this go as easily as you did. I don’t know what else I’m supposed to do other than try to help you.”

That was not a turn you’d expected this awkward conversation to take. You looked up at the ceiling, trying to keep composure. There were still people around and you didn’t want to draw attention to yourself, especially not when you were talking to Shawn of all people (while wearing his jersey). “Nobody wants to hire someone they don’t like, Shawn. Please don’t make me sound like the bad guy for not wanting to be bullied at my internship and taken less seriously by almost everyone in a superior position to me. It wasn’t easy for me to stop this, I really hope that’s not what you actually think. I just need to establish myself in something more long-lasting with the team.”

He raked his tattooed hand through his hair, messing up his curls. “How long is that going to take?”

“I don’t know. I don’t even know if anybody on the hiring team likes me enough to even want to give me a lasting position.”

His expression softened a little. “It isn’t fair for them to judge your qualifications for a job based on anything other than your actual work. Our relationship shouldn’t have anything to do with it, and you shouldn’t have to change the way you live your life in order to cater to what you think they expect of you.”

You smiled, but it was sad. You missed Shawn like crazy and it had only been three days since you’d broken things off. Every time the feeling began to creep up on you, you had to remind yourself of the goals you’d set for your future and how being with him right now put that in jeopardy. It didn’t always help. “No, it’s not fair, but that’s the way it is. I’m looked at under a microscope because everyone expects me to be just another stereotype until I prove that I’m not. And I’ve not been doing a very good job at that.”

“So there’s no way for you to win, then,” Shawn sighed. He was finally starting to understand.

“Not until I get the executives to take me seriously enough to hire me for real.”

He nodded solemnly, looking off to his left. You could tell he was thinking. “Well, I guess just let me know when that happens.”

If that happened. But you didn’t have the heart to correct him. “I will. I should probably get back to work, though.”

“Oh, right. Sorry to keep you from it.”

You laughed a little. “It’s okay. You should probably get home and get some rest before the game tonight anyways. The Diamondbacks are tough.”

“Thanks for the reminder,” he smiled half-heartedly, and you offered a tiny smile in return as you turned over your shoulder to head back into the offices.

---------------

Later that day, Greg called you and the other five interns to his office for a meeting. You imagined it was because he wanted to check in to see how you were all doing, as the one-month mark since starting the internships was approaching. You and two of the other interns arrived to the office at the same time, taking seats around Greg’s small conference table as you waited for the others to arrive. You kept your eyes in your lap so as not to see the nasty way in which you were sure the other two, David and Matthew, were staring at you. As soon as the remaining three, Brandon, Tony, and Chris, had trickled in, Greg began asking questions. Whether or not everyone felt included in their departments, how demanding your workload was, what you were learning, if you were still finding time to keep up with the team itself, and so on.

He was about to switch gears from the rapid-fire questions when his desk phone rang, and he sighed and let out a little groan. He stepped over to his desk and pressed a button, plopping down into his swivel chair. “You’ve reached Greg, you’re on speakerphone.”

“Hey, Greg, it’s James. I’m with one of the statisticians finalizing the weekly report on the team’s numbers, but whoever’s in charge of score-keeping left out a few batting averages. Figured you’d know who that person is, so could you find them and ask for those official, current stats? I need them on Grichuk and Solarte.”

“Sure, James, if you give me just a few minutes, I’ll--”

“0.245 and 0.266.” You heard yourself say the words before you’d even realized you’d opened your mouth, and you felt every single person in the room focus their eyes on you.

Greg narrowed his eyes. “James, could you hold on just a second?” he asked, muting the phone before taking a slight step in your direction and focusing his attention on you. “Are you one-hundred percent positive about that?”

You took a breath, sitting up straight. Of course you were right. “Absolutely.”

Matthew spoke up next, a cocky smirk plastered on his mouth. “With all due respect, sir, she has absolutely no way of knowing that.”

You whipped your head around to face him, acting completely on impulse for once in your life. “I could recite the results of each of their last ten at-bats right now, off the top of my head. So yes, I do have a way of knowing that. Do you?”

“Knock it off,” Greg bellowed, and you and Matthew went quiet. Greg was silent for a few seconds, thinking, before he stepped back to unmute the receiver. “James? Yeah, still me. Grichuk’s batting 0.245 and Solarte’s at 0.266. Yes, I’m sure….Yeah, I can do that real quick. Uh huh...you too, bye.”

You felt a rush of energy in your chest that you refused to let your face give evidence of. Greg trusted you. He’d just taken you seriously. He sighed, hanging up the phone and staring back at the six of you. “You all wait here. I’ve gotta go ask someone a question, I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He turned to look solely at you. “I sure do hope you were right, kid.”

The second Greg was out the door the room became a lion’s den, and you were the sole prey. The guys turned their heads to you as though they were about to bear their teeth, and you gulped with the anticipation that came from knowing that they were surely going to tear you to shreds.

“What did you do, make flashcards or something?” Matthew began, and once he got the ball rolling the others wasted no time digging in, too.

Chris followed. “Gotta stay up to date on the team to fool the players into thinking she actually cares about baseball. How else is she gonna get them in bed?”

“Why do you have such a problem with me?” you snapped, hating yourself for the tears that stabbed the backs of your eyes. If you cried in front of these animals, you’d never recover. They’d bite into you until you ran for the hills and never looked back.

“Less than a month after you start working here you’re caught sneaking around with a player, especially one as good as Mendes, and you expect us not to call you out for what you are?” David sneered.

“There is nothing between me and any player on this team.”

They laughed, and you felt your bottom lip begin to tremble. Tony chimed in next. “I think the half a million people that’ve viewed that video of you and Mendes on MLB Network would beg to differ.”

You would never live that down. “That was a completely innocent interaction one time, and there is absolutely nothing there. You have no idea.”

“I’ll believe that when--”

“She’s right,” spoke a voice that had been otherwise silent the entire time. Brandon. The room was temporarily quiet. Everyone turned to face where he sat at the end of the conference table, his laptop computer opened in front of him. “A-About the stats on Grichuk and Solarte. I looked up the results of all of their at-bats since the last time the batting averages were officially updated. I did the math by hand to factor in the recent plate appearances to the previous averages in order to get the current numbers. Like it or not, 0.245 and 0.266 are spot on.” Brandon turned to look at you, his eyes wide and seemingly apologetic. “You were right, Y/N.”

You didn’t even have time to be proud of yourself before Tony was butting in. “So she has a good memory, big deal. That doesn’t prove anything.”

“Probably only memorized that stuff to impress Mendes in the first place,” Chris snickered, and all of the interns--with the exception of Brandon--began to snicker. “Jersey-chasing skank.” The continuous mentions of Shawn were snapping something in you that evoked a rage you’d never felt before. He wasn’t even technically in your life anymore, but these guys were finding a way to insert him there in an attempt to make you look bad--like a jersey chaser. Something you weren’t, and something you absolutely despised being called. Unable to maintain your composure any longer, you burst.

“Don’t talk about me like I’m not sitting right here. If you have something to say about me, you can say it to me. I’ve been pretty passive up in dealing with how you’ve all been treating me up to this point but I’m sick of feeling like I have something to prove to you guys. And even when I do prove that I obviously know what I’m talking about--like I just did with the batting averages--that still doesn’t seem to be enough for you. You don’t have to like the fact that I’m working for this team, but you do have to accept it and stop making excuses to undermine my motives like when you call me a jersey chaser.” By this point, you were yelling. You couldn’t help it. “You don’t get to disrespect my character and my capabilities because you’re secretly threatened by the fact that I’m a girl who has just as good a chance at getting a full-time job with the team as any of you do. I am your equal. In job title, in capability, and in potential. Don’t ever underestimate me again, or--”

You froze as you heard the door open from behind you, and you took heavy breaths as you felt your words hanging stale in the air, unanswered. The other interns’ eyes were immediately downcast, focusing on anything but Greg now standing in the doorway.

“Everyone out,” Greg commanded, low and quiet but menacing all the same. You grabbed your purse from your lap and stood to leave, completely drained of the energy you’d just exerted. Of course the one time you stuck up for yourself, your boss overheard without context and probably couldn’t stop thinking about how unprofessional you were. Just as you turned over your shoulder to head for the door with everyone else, Greg’s voice stopped you. “Not you, Y/N. You stay.”

Your heart sank. “O-okay.”

Once everyone else was out of the room, Brandon shooting you another look of apology as he went, Greg moved to sit in his swivel chair, leaving you still awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

He turned in his chair to face you. “Shut the door, would you?” You silently complied, your heart hammering in your chest. You were going to get fired. You knew it. You’d been perfectly damage controlling, cutting your relationship with Shawn and focusing solely on work. You were on track to salvaging your reputation and proving yourself as a hard worker and nothing else--not even a jersey chaser. And then you’d gone and thrown it up in flames.

Greg gestured for you to take a seat, and you pulled one of the extra chairs that was against the wall up to the side of his desk. You sat down and squeezed your hands in your lap in an effort to keep them from shaking, but how much your legs were bouncing made up for the lack of nerves in your fingers. You didn’t say anything, just forced yourself to look at him and keep your composure.

“How’s your day been going?”

You almost scoffed; the last thing you’d expected was a question like that. “Um, good.”

Greg’s eyes widened and he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “Good? Even after that conversation I just overheard? I’d actually call it more of an argument, on second thought.”

“W-what?”

“I could repeat some of the things that were said to jog your memory, but--”

“No, no, I remember,” you hastened, throwing one of your hands up.

“Are...are you doing okay?” Greg asked hesitantly, leaning forward in his chair towards you as though he were trying to psychoanalyze you. If you hadn’t known any better, you’d have thought he seemed concerned. For a reason you couldn’t put your finger on, it bothered you. You weren’t a wounded animal, and you didn’t need his pity.

“I’m fine, I just kind of want to hurry and get this over with,” you muttered, looking down at your lap.

Greg frowned. “Get what over with?”

“Being fired,” you whispered, still not daring to look up at him. You squeezed your eyes shut as though to brace yourself. At least you didn’t have to worry about crying; you were convinced you didn’t have the energy left to.

There was a short pause, but to you it felt like an eternity. Your words hung in the air, the silence seemingly a loud answer to your worst fear. But then Greg finally spoke. “I...Why would I fire you?” he asked, sounding genuinely taken aback.

“Because other people obviously have a problem with me working here,” you mumbled.

“Look here, kid,” he said, and you slowly brought your eyes up to meet his. “My wife has worked in the finance department for years, it’s how we met. I know she didn’t have it easy when she started and I have a feeling you can relate to that.”

You blinked, confused as to the path the conversation was going down. “I guess I can, yeah.”

“Your application for this position was incredible, I told you that on your first day. The work you’ve done while here is exactly the quality I expected it to be, if not better. Your being with this team is completely justified, despite what anyone else may be saying about you. It’s unfair that mockery like that is something you’re having to deal with undeservingly. Like this...name the other interns keep calling you; where are they getting it from?”

You scoffed. “I’d imagine because they can’t wrap their thick heads around the idea of a woman wanting to work in sports because she actually likes it and knows what she’s talking about,” you snapped, before immediately catching yourself. You felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t--It’s just embarrassing. They’re calling me a jersey chaser because they think I’m only here for the guys in jerseys, plain and simple. And wrong, too.” You purposely left out that your relationship--ex relationship--with Shawn had only added fuel to their fire.

“And how long have they been treating you like this?”

You let out a huff of air. “Since day one, basically.”

His eyes got a little wider as he reached a hand up to run over the top of his head. “Why didn’t you tell me, or anyone else?”

“I told a friend from my department, but that’s it. I honestly didn’t think anyone would care enough to do anything about it. I can tell not many people like that I’m here in the first place, so what would be the point? They’d probably just think I can’t take a joke. Because how hilarious is being called a jersey chaser, right?” You laughed flatly, staring down at your lap and beginning to absentmindedly pick at your chipping nail polish.

Greg nodded, leaning back and folding his hands over his stomach. “I understand. Is there...anything else you want to add to that? Anything else you want to get off your chest while we’re here?”

Did he already know something? Whether he did or not, this was your chance to tell him yourself about Shawn; to let him hear the story from you first in the off chance he’d yet to hear it from someone else. But you weren’t quite sure of what to say, and you chuckled sheepishly, deciding to try and gage the situation. “Is there, um, something you’re expecting me to add?”

“Well, there’s been a lot of...talk...among the team executives about you. About your personal life. Which, if you ask me, is not relevant or appropriate for them to be discussing, but they’re my bosses so I can’t really do anything about that. But of course we’ve all seen that video on MLB Network, and it does naturally raise some questions. I wanted to give you the chance to speak for yourself; to ask you directly instead of speculating with everyone else.”

“Ask me about Shawn,” you confirmed, but then realized your mistake. “Oh, Mendes, I mean! Sorry. Ask me about Mendes.”

Greg laughed lightly. “I see you’re on a first-name basis, then. That answers quite a bit.”

“I--I don’t really know what to say,” you sighed, too exasperated to beat around the bush. You weren’t sure how Greg expected--or wanted--you to answer, and you didn’t want to say the wrong thing.

“Well, is Shawn a...part of your life?” You could tell that he was trying to choose his words carefully.

You huffed out a flat laugh. You could not believe you were having this conversation with your boss, of all people. “He was. Past tense.”

“And did that begin before or after you were hired to work here?”

“We met after I was hired, but before my first day at the office. It’s kind of a complicated timeline.”

“Right. Now--last question, I promise--do your coworkers have anything to do with the emphasis on the ‘past tense’ aspect of your relationship with him?”

“That’s a large part of it, yeah,” you muttered, looking down at your lap.

“So that’s where the ‘jersey chaser’ thing really fits in, then,” Greg confirmed, and you nodded.

“They thought that of me before that video of Shawn and I started circulating, didn’t think there could be any other reason why I would want to be working here. I couldn’t stand that I was confirming everyone’s stereotypical opinions of me, so I broke it off. I didn’t want it to impact my ability to get an official job here once the internship is over. I needed to keep my priorities straight.”

“Mhm,” Greg nodded, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands over his belly. “Well, I’m not explicitly saying that I do or don’t condone anything, but what I will say is that I think the hiring team would be a bunch of idiots to let you slip through their fingers for any reason. And I can promise you that, when the time comes for you to apply to work here for real, you have my full support. I don’t know how much that will get you with them, but I’ll back you anyways. I personally don’t think your life outside of work should have any influence on their hiring decisions, because the work you’ve turned out so far is phenomenal and beyond impressive considering you’re only an intern.”

You felt frozen. “So, you’re saying…”

“I’m saying that if you keep doing what you’ve been doing work-wise, I think you’ll be fine; all personal relationships considered. If you stay focused and don’t worry about the higher-ups, that new full-time Media Communications job opening could be yours.”

“Media Comm,” you mused, feeling your heart rate quicken in excitement. “That position operates out of PR; I’d still be with my department.”

Greg nodded his affirmation. “And I’d love to recommend you for it. Look, kid, I understand that this franchise means the world to you; it was enough to make you give up something really important. But I just don’t think that was necessary. Your work, dedication, and resolve speaks for itself. You’re gonna be just fine here.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing; you didn’t know what to say. “I--God, are you sure? I-I mean, are you serious?” Greg nodded, his mouth beginning to pull into a smile. “Thank you. You have no idea how important this is to me, how much it means for you to support me like that.”

“I think I might have at least a little bit of an idea,” he chuckled, and you breathed out a laugh. “And I also think you ought to go see him right now.”

“Go see who? Shawn?” you questioned, shocked. Greg nodded. “Um, well, I guess I will eventually, but I don’t get off until 6:30. That’s four hours from now.”

He let out a deep, bellowing laugh and you felt your forehead crease in confusion. “As your boss, I’m pretty sure I can work something out. Go, he should be getting here pretty soon to start prepping along with the rest of the team. Wouldn’t want you to miss him.”

You knew you were smiling like a little kid, but you didn’t care. Not only had you finally managed to stand up to the people who’d been making your life miserable, but someone important in the office was actually showing you kindness knowing what was going on in your personal life. “Thank you so much, Greg, I...Wow, I just…” you paused, taking a breath to calm yourself as you stood up from the chair you were in. “Thank you.”

“Of course, kid. Now get down to the player’s parking lot and wait for him. You know where it is?”

Your smile turned smug; of course you knew where it was. “Yeah, I do. I’ll see you at work on Monday, okay?”

“Yep!” Greg called, but you were already halfway out the door. You flew down the hallway to the ever-so-familiar Stadium Access door, not caring whether or not anyone saw you swing it open. You entered the hallway as you’d done so many times before, but you froze when you realized that your excitement had caused you to get ahead of yourself. You knew how to get to the dugout through these hallways, but you had no clue how to get up to the main concourse where the concessions and seating were, and therefore where the door to the team parking lot was. You’d hit a roadblock of sorts, and it was killing your mood.

You had to start somewhere, and you decided to venture down the path to your right and see where it took you. You followed it until you heard voices, and the closer you got the more familiar they began to sound. You rounded a corner and saw Kevin Pillar and Danny Jansen making their way towards you, and you breathed a sigh of relief as you realized that you’d somehow managed to pick the right way to go. When he saw you, Kevin paused.

“Hey, Y/N. Looking for Shawn?”

“Yeah, I am. Is he coming? Or is he already here?”

“I saw him pull up right as we were walking in. He should be right behind us.”

“Perfect, thank you so much.” Kevin nodded as if to say ‘you’re welcome’ and ‘goodbye’ all at once, and you decided to just stay put and wait for Shawn instead of chasing him down.

You leaned your right shoulder against the side of the hallway, tapping your foot on the ground anxiously as you waited for Shawn to appear from around the corner. After what felt like an eternity of anticipation, you saw his tall frame begin to come into view. He frowned as he recognized you, silently wondering what you were doing.

“Y/N? Is everything okay?”

“Shawn, hey. I--Shit, I don’t know. I got so excited I never really planned what to say.”

His brows pulled together. “Excited about what?”

“Long story short, work isn’t an issue anymore.”

He still looked confused, and he crossed his arms over his broad chest. “What do you mean?”

“Getting a job. I talked to my boss, told him everything about the interns and you and what I was worried about. He’s totally got my back. I don’t know if it’ll be enough, but he’s really high up with the team and he made it sound like I’d have a future here no matter what happened with my personal life.” Shawn was silent, staring at you blankly. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t make you nervous. “I’m saying we can go back to the way things were. O-Only if you still want, I guess, but you told me this morning to tell you when that happened and it did.”

“How’d you sneak away from work to even get down here?”

Your eagerness fell a little because he’d yet to acknowledge what you were saying, but you didn’t let it show. “Greg let me go. Told me to go, actually, was completely encouraging it.”

He sighed and turned over his shoulder to look back down the empty hallway, his face still not reading any sort of happiness over what you were saying. He grabbed your wrist and pulled you down a separate hall, out of sight and out of earshot of any of his teammates that could come venturing down the hallway at any minute.

Your heart was racing at this point and your mind was full of worry that something had changed, that it was too late and you’d already done irreversible damage. You felt dumb for assuming that you could just waltz down here and that things would go back to normal, as though you hadn’t put Shawn through extreme stress and frustration for the past four days.

The two of you came to a stop as Shawn led you around a corner, and he turned so that he was facing you and no longer had a grasp on your wrist. His face was still unreadable. “I’m sorry, I’m starting to think I made a mistake coming down here like this,” you began, looking down at the ground in embarrassment. “I don’t know why I thought you’d be more--”

You were cut off by Shawn finally speaking again, looking down at you with a smug expression. “Just wanted to psych you out.”

It was your turn to frown and be confused. “What?”

“Did it work?”

“Did what work?”

“Did I make you nervous?”

“I’m going to start getting really frustrated if you don’t tell me what you mean.”

“Well I was trying to freak you out a little by being all cryptic, but apparently all I did was make you mad,” he teased, but you still felt a little frozen.

“So that was all just to mess with me?”

He nodded, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face. You felt yourself let out a huge breath of air, the tension leaving your shoulders. “Well it worked, you asshole,” you laughed, and you were immediately swallowed by Shawn’s arms pulling you to him, wrapping all the way around you so tightly that you couldn’t have moved even if you’d wanted to. For the first time in days, something finally felt right again, and you were as content as ever.

“So no more of this?” Shawn asked, his voice muffled as he continued to hold you. “It can go back to normal?”

You nodded against his chest. “I’m really sorry, Shawn. I thought I was doing what was best for myself but I wasn’t thinking clearly and I never asked for help, that’s my fault. God, I was so worried you’d shoot me down for a second.”

He laughed, pulling away from you. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t know. The general lack of excitement threw me a little bit,” you giggled. “But in all seriousness, it would be selfish of me to just assume that you were waiting around for me to give a green light again.”

“Right, but I’m pretty sure I made it clear that that was exactly what I planned to do. Look, Coach is expecting me and I don’t want to keep you from work. But you can meet me in our spot before gametime like usual? We can talk more then?”

You nodded, grinning like an idiot. “Okay. But I’m going to need help getting back to that main hallway between the offices and the stadium. I have no idea where I am.”

---------------

Right at 6:30, you exited out of all of the tabs on your computer and immediately began to throw your belongings into your purse. You pushed your chair into your desk and stood up, swinging your bag over your shoulder.

Cassidy looked back at you as you stood up to leave, her perfectly arched brows knit together. “You’re not staying to watch the game with us in the clubhouse?”

“No, I am,” you replied with a smile, smoothing over your clothes. “I just have to go do something first. Save me a seat on the couch?”

“Always do,” she nodded, smiling and turning back to her computer.

You headed out of the office and down the hallway towards the elevators, taking it down to the first floor and walking to the Stadium Access door like you’d done so many nights before. Walking to the little room where you always met Shawn was like muscle memory by this point, and as you opened the door to see him already standing inside it was probably the most excited you’d ever been to see him. He greeted you with a huge hug and then took hold of your hands, and you wasted no time asking him how he felt about the game tonight.

“I’m finally getting used to playing without Justin,” Shawn shrugged, swinging your joined hands absentmindedly. “But this is going to be a tough series. The D-Backs are really good this year and I’d probably be happy if we could just win one game out of the three we play them.”

You nudged him teasingly. “Oh, come on. Don’t be so hard on yourself. Who knows? Maybe rookie second basemen are their weakness.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure,” he retorted sarcastically, and you grinned.

“You never know. Don’t forget to put your eye black on before the game, also. You usually have it on by now.”

He silently reached into his back pocket to hand you the tube, and you smiled in understanding of what he wanted you to do. You popped the cap off and moved Shawn’s hat back out of the way, placing a hand under his chin to anchor yourself as you drew the trademark black lines under his eyes as you’d done several times before. You were glad to be doing it again; it felt normal, and it felt right in a way you couldn’t describe.

You finished and took a step back to admire your work, handing him the tube back with its lid on. Shawn smiled, pausing for a second to look down at you just long enough to make you want to squirm under the heat of his brown eyes. You quirked your head to the side, looking at him in bemusement. “What?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, looking off to the side. “It’s just good to be doing this again. It’s like I have my lucky charm back, I’ll be back on my game.”

You laughed. “Shawn Mendes does not need a lucky charm to play well. He never did.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to your cheek before turning to leave. “Well, it’s almost gametime. Guess we’re about to find out if that’s really true or not.”

“Wait, there’s actually, um, something I wanted to tell you before you go to the dugout.” You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, and you tried to no avail to steady it.

“Yeah? What’s that?” he asked, coming back over and nonchalantly grabbing one of your hands to bring it up and place a kiss on the back of it.

“When we were in my apartment that night...fighting, I guess you could call it,” you shrugged nervously, staring down at the Nike symbol on Shawn’s cleats. You could feel the rambling coming on, but you were in too deep to stop talking now. “You said something that kind of caught my attention, and I don’t really know if you meant to say it, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot, and--”

“Y/N,” he chuckled. “Just say it, it’s okay.”

“You said you loved me,” you whispered, your eyes still on the ground. Your words hung in the air so long that the anticipation almost brought tears to your eyes.

“That’s ‘cause I do,” Shawn finally said, matter-of-factly, and you snapped your eyes back up to his.

“Really?” you cried, unthinking. “Wait, shit, I mean…What I’m trying to say is...” You sighed, taking a breath to reset. “I love you, too,” you mumbled, kicking your toe into the ground.

“What was that?” Shawn asked, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

“I love you too,” you said, still muttering, but a little louder.

“Sorry, one more time?”

“I said that I--” You were cut off by Shawn’s lips pressing onto yours, and as your hands found a home on his body you felt yourself deflate.

He pulled away, his palms pressed to either side of your face as his brown eyes bore into yours with an intensity you’d never experienced. “I love you.”

You giggled. “I love you, too,” you said, and you meant it. It had taken separation and tension for you to realize it, but you were glad you did. It was a special feeling, one you hadn’t felt in a long time and definitely never this strong. You were completely wrapped around Shawn’s finger, whether or not you wanted to admit that to yourself.

“Oh yeah?” he said, stepping back and folding his arms across his chest, a smug smile plastered on his face. “How much?”

“Don’t get cocky,” you laughed, and he grinned right along with you.

“‘M just messing with you. I’ll see you after the game though, yeah?”

“Sure,” you nodded as he turned away, but you weren’t done yet. “Shawn?”

He paused, looking back over his shoulder at you with a smile that nearly rendered you useless. “Hmm?”

“To center field and back. That’s how much. Good enough?”

He grinned, coming back for one last kiss. “Of course it is. I love you to center field and back, too.”

With that he finally left for the dugout, and even all the way from that little room you could hear the increase in the crowd’s volume as Shawn once again returned to his home at second base.

Taglist (I’m so sorry if it wouldn’t let me tag you):

@ashwarren32 @d-arkestangel @idkseavey @yellowitsmendes @north1692 @calistheloml @perfectlywrongfm @gentleshawn @mariemmendes @shawnsmercy @wildest-dream- @shortieshake @shadowsndaisies @yourwonderbelle @madon566 @ruinmeshawn @itrocksmysocks @just-another-fan-girl-for-you @ilovejackavery @vnv21 @twoisalwaysbetterthan1 @planstonightbaby @lou-la-lou @greteeweetee @shawnyimagines @helpmemendes @overactiveimaginati0n @princessflutterwolf @justjustyncase @cali--marie @falling-stars-never-cry @ashftshawn @captaincorbyn @colorful-dodie @andreburakovskyyyyyyy @giveme-gaskarth @ayetami @x-seventeen-x @onlynarry @to-the-road @hollandechart @princessmendes13 @rare-breed-of-human @iamamuggleborn @prettymuchboodup @supernatural-lover-teamfreewill @jc-paramore @etherealchar @ykicantbefoundwithyou @choripxn @noodleboyluke @petit-funsize @heavenly---holland @the-claire-bitch-project @calumasfuckkkk @sleepybesson @shawnshufflepuff @zankivich @justanothergirl-80 @qxeen-of-hearts @begging-mnds @shawnsvlogsquad

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idkthisisjustforfanfic · 5 years

Text

Chapter 2 - (totally uninterested.)

The possibility of speaking more than five words to Ethan had my heart doing somersaults as I got off of the elevator in Harry’s building. I knew where he lived--Kristen’s classmate, Georgia (who we sometimes hung out with) lived on the fourth floor.

If I remember correctly, we ended up eating pizza here a few Fridays back at 2am when we were plastered and Kristen was not anxious about her grades.

I made my way down the hall to the fifth door as Harry’s text message from an hour earlier had instructed. I lifted my hand to knock, but it opened before I made contact--Harry stood with wide eyes and an expectant smile on his face.

“Hi,” I said, pulling my head back in surprise. I peered over his shoulder, causing him to laugh. “Is he here yet?”

“No, Nora, relax, come in.” He stepped aside and let me by, we were cramped in a small hallway that didn’t give me much of a view of the rest of the place. “They’ll probably be here in like 15 minutes. They sometimes get take away after practice.”

“Hmm,” I said, watching as he retreated back towards the living room. It was decently clean for an apartment of four guys.

Harry and Ryan had been friends since freshman year--at least, that was my understanding. He was the one that Harry talked about the most. Then there were Alex and Niall as well.

Ryan and Niall were both on the basketball team with Ethan. Harry was on the soccer team (he’d told me at work that he was good, but I decided out loud when he told me that I didn’t believe him.) Alex, their fourth and final roommate, didn’t play any sports. He was big into the music scene and spent most of his free time, as Harry as explained, in a dingy recording studio with his classmates.

“Hmm what?” He asked over his shoulder, not stopping to look back at me. He headed into the kitchen and reached into the fridge. He pulled out a beer and handed one to me before opening one for himself. I followed him over towards the couch and sat beside him.

“Just hope he shows up,” I said simply, shrugging my shoulders. I took a sip of the beer and winced at the tase. I’d never admit it to Harry, but I was much more of a cider or wine type of girl.

“Right,” he laughed. I followed him into the living room and sat beside him on the couch. He reached for a bag of chex mix he’d apparently been snacking on before my arrival. “Whatever would we do if he didn’t?”

I rolled my eyes, pulling out my phone to check the time again. “They don’t pay me enough to sit next to you in that stupid library, so we’re definitely not gonna do it out here,” I motioned around his apartment.

The TV was on, commercials flashed over the screen as he pulled his eyes up to look at me--completely unenthused. “Nora, just appreciate the fact that I even let you come over, okay? Now you get to drool over him like he’s a caged animal and he’ll never even know.”

His tone was playful and chastising, but I pulled my feet up on the couch and moved around to get more comfortable. “How are you gonna introduce me?” I asked, wiggling my eyebrows at him to bother him more than I already was. I took a few more sips of my drink--hoping the alcohol would calm my nerves.

He reached his hand in the bag and then popped another handful in his mouth and shrugged. “Doesn’t he know who you are?”

I thought on it for a second. I mean--he should. We had a class together during our sophomore year and he’d spoken to me three whole times in the Library. He at least had to know my face. “He knows that I work in the library, I think.”

Harry widened his eyes a little bit and let out a sigh, grabbing another handful of his snack. “Okay--I’ll just say you’re my friend, from the library, that we work together,” he shrugged a bit.

There was noise in the hallway--laughter and voices as the door opened, and I turned to look at Harry with big eyes and a grin on my face.

He rolled his eyes at me and reached his hand inside the bag once more. “Oh come off it,” he said, and he must have known his gibberish made no sense to me--an American--because he continued when I scrunched my nose in confusion. “Relax.”

Niall, Ryan, and Ethan all came in with their duffle bags on their shoulders, laughing at something one of them had said as they filed into the living room. They dropped their bags on the floor and I--as the ever-nervous idiot who could barely manage a conversation with someone she found attractive--kept my mouth shut decided I’d let Harry do most of the conversing.

“Hey guys,” Harry greeted. “This is Nora. We work at the library together.”

I watched as they each scanned my face. I’d met Ryan maybe twice--Niall was in my major, and Ethan, well, you know the story. I raised my beer at them in greeting and let them turn back to each other and whatever conversation they’d been having. Was that too friendly? Was raising a beer at a group of guys basically code for I’m also a dude, so don’t bother finding me attractive?

“Dude, y’shoulda seen the fucking half courter this one made tonight,” Niall pointed at Ryan, who was too busy downing a gatorade to respond. Ethan sat at the table in the corner, taking off his shoes and finding a sweatshirt in his bag.

“It wasn’t actually that good,” Ethan laughed, looking up to give Harry and I more details.

“It was pretty fucking awesome,” Ryan defended, setting the gatorade down on the counter. He was stood in the kitchen--but a cut out in the wall allowed a full view. “I’ve never seen you make one like that,” he shot back at Ethan.

“I’ve never tried cause I’m not trying to get hurt and benched for the fucking season,” he retorted with a laugh.

I didn’t know nearly enough about basketball to act like I did, so instead, I tried to change the subject.

“Have you started your project for Benham yet, Niall? You’re taking his class this semester, right?”

He let out a dramatic groan. “Oh, am I. He’s ridiculous--completely mental. I have to work with Kyle Porter, that wanker. He’ll probably fuck it all up and we’ll fail.”

Harry let out a laugh at how dramatic his friend was being, but I simply kept my eyes on Ethan as he came to join us on the couch. He reached for the bag of chex mix from Harry (who easily handed it over) and plopped himself down with a sigh.

I felt somewhat betrayed, honestly, not just because Ethan had sat next to Harry instead of me--but really because Harry had completely and utterly downplayed his friendship with Ethan. Here they were, all hanging out in Harry’s apartment, and Harry just handed him the chex mix as if they were long lost brothers in some sort of tribe of idiots.

Why had he completely downplayed it?

Ethan leaned forward and it took me a second to realize he was looking at me. “Nora, you said? You were in my History of the English Language class last year, right?”

I let out a laugh, which Harry made a face at because nothing Ethan had said was really funny, and nodded. “Yeah, with Adam Middleman, good times!”

Ethan nodded and sat back again, letting his eyes drift to the TV. Harry’s eyes were still on me--his face blank and somehow sending a message that I was a total idiot.

“Anyone hungry? Should we go to the dining hall or order something?” Ryan asked as he came back into the living room, his eyes scanning the room for answers.

“I’d do either,” Niall announced, tossing his bag into (what I assumed to be) his bedroom. “But I’m hungry, so let’s make up our minds, ladies.”

“Let’s just do the dining hall,” Ethan said with a shrug.

“Yeah,” I said quickly. “The dining hall is fine.”

Harry turned to look at me again--which was just getting to be obnoxious now. He’d give me these are you crazy? stares, but wouldn’t actually say anything. He stood from the couch as Ryan responded to Niall, saying something about the sandwich bar in Henderson Dining Hall.

“Will you come with me, for a second? I want to show you something.”

I stared up at Harry, confused and annoyed that he was trying to get me away from Ethan. He widened his eyes at me to let me know he was serious, and I stood from the couch. I held in the exaggerated sigh I so badly wanted to unleash and followed Harry down a side hall and past a bathroom.

He went into a dark room (his bedroom, I was guessing), and shut the door behind me. “You need to chill out. You’re being obnoxious.”

I rolled my eyes, somewhat offended by his feedback. He clearly didn’t know what it was like to have the hots for Ethan Davis for two years and finally be able to talk with him in a casual environment. I was always seeing him at parties or in the library--now I finally had the chance to talk to him like a real person.

“I am not being obnoxious.”

“You’re being obnoxious,” Harry nodded sternly, his arms now crossed in front of his chest.

“You think everything I do is obnoxious,” I retorted, crossing my arms to mirror his.

“Everything you do is obnoxious.”

“Is that seriously all you wanted? Can I go back out there now?”

He let out a breath and tried to temper himself. “Nora, just--play it cool.”

“What do you mean?” I asked--almost desperate for him to give me legitimate feedback. If he was going to drag me into time out and just shit on me, I didn’t want his help. If he was going to actually give me insider advice on how to land Ethan Davis, I’d take it.

“Just, I dunno--play hard to get or something. Don’t act so available.”

I paused for a second, looking at him straight in the eyes. Maybe the adrenaline was clouding my comprehension, but I didn’t understand. “But,” I said, my eyes narrowed. “I am available.”

He rolled his eyes a little, which caused me to laugh in response. “Nora, that’s not hot. Being unavailable and totally and completely uninterested is hot.”

I frowned at him, totally and completely trying to not laugh at how stupid he sounded. “You’re incredibly moronic. Can I go now? I’m totally tagging along for dinner.”

He let out a deflated laugh. “You’re unbelievable. But I’d love to watch you continue to crash and burn tonight.”

I reached up to pinch Harry’s cheek. He swatted at my quickly, a deep frown causing a wrinkle in his forehead. “Cheer up,” I said. “You get to watch people fall in love tonight!”

My dinner with Harry and his friends was mostly uneventful. I did my best to interject at the right moments and say things that would catch Ethan’s attention, but most of my social interaction ended up being eye rolls back and forth across the table with Harry.

At least I got to sit and look at Ethan for a whole 45 minutes.

And now, I was hoping when Ethan left the library for the night, he’d decide to march right up to the information desk, tell Harry to suck it, and propose marriage right here, right now. I’d happily oblige.

“You’re doing that thing again,” Harry mumbled, his mouth half blocked by the hand he rested his chin on.

I looked over at him, clicking my phone shut in a quick realization that I still had a paper to write. “What thing?” I asked, my voice monotonous and disinterested.

“When you roll your wrist and make that cracking sound.”

I narrowed my eyes--was he serious? My silence made him look up at me and offer a quick smirk before he turned back to his computer.

“Sorry that I don’t live to please you,” I replied coolly. I lifted my feet from the desk and brought them back to the ground, internally bargaining with myself that better posture would lead to better focus.

Harry was quiet for a second. He typed away at his computer and I flipped through the book on my desk, hoping to find whatever inspiration I needed to bang out a quick 6 page paper.

“The other night was terrible,” he said, his eyes peering up sideways at me to see what type of response he’d get out of me.

“It wasn’t terrible,” I corrected him. “It was the first of many nights that I spend with Ethan. Every couple starts somewhere.”

He let out a snort, clearly disagreeing with my description. “And how do you think you’ll spend a bunch of time with him?”

I shrugged. “You really hate me that much that you won’t let me hang out with all of you?”

His face was serious, his lips in a straight line and he blinked twice before responding. “Yes.”

“Harry,” I rolled my eyes. “You’re a dickhead.”

He laughed at this, clearly un-offended by my insult and somewhat entertained by his own answer. His hair was up in a bun, he was clad in a black t-shirt and skinny jeans that seemed to make it hard to sit comfortably. He kept moving around and adjusting (what I could only imagine) was his incredibly small penis.

He didn’t respond, instead, he picked up his phone and opened snapchat--clicking through a selfie from some blonde-haired girl I didn’t recognize. Barf.

“I mean, I guess if you don’t want your little secret to get out,” I trailed off, hoping he’d put two and two together.

“My secret?” He asked, his eyes still on his phone as he snapped a picture of his computer in front of him and typed back some type of message to whatever stupid girl was falling for his sickening charm.

“Yeah,” I said casually. “You know, your” I raised my voice to be above our normal library shift volume. “Arrest record.”

He looked up at my quickly, not as bothered as I expected. “It’s not an arrest record,” he reminded me.

“Well, whatever it is, I’d hate for everyone to know about it.”

He lowered his brows at me, his lips still set in a firm line. “Are you trying to blackmail me, Hanson?”

I shrugged my shoulders and laughed a little. “I mean, you told me about it--it’s not like I had to go digging.”

“Keep quiet about it, yeah? I don’t need your big mouth ruining my chance as a politician.”

“Right cause the skinny jeans didn’t already do that for you,” I nodded seriously, a smirk fighting its way onto my face.

He let out a sigh. “Nora, Nora, Nora. You’re my least favorite person on the planet.”

I looked back to my computer and typed my name on top of the word document. “I can live with that.”

We both looked up when we could feel someone approaching the desk, and Ethan (who carried a water bottle in his hands) smiled at both of us.

“Hey, hi Nora,” he leaned forward on the desk. “Either of you know that someone’s totally drunk on the second floor?”

“What?” Harry asked, pushing his computer back on the desk to stand up. “Jesus Christ.”

“Thanks for telling us,” I said, following Harry’s lead. I followed Harry around the desk and into the main area of the first floor.

“I’ll see you both tomorrow night?”

Harry stopped in his tracks and I my head shot in his direction with raised brows. Tomorrow night? I had no idea what he was talking about--but you bet I was going to be there if Ethan Davis would be in attendance. “You sure will!” I answered for both of us.

With that, Ethan waved and bid us goodnight, heading out of the main doors as Harry and I made a beeline to the stairs.

“What was that about?” I whispered once we were inside the stairwell. Even at a lower volume, my voice echoed against the old walls.

Harry took the stairs two at a time, putting distance between us as he replied. “Just some people coming over, it’s not a big deal. You won’t know anyone.”

“I’ll know you and I’ll know Ethan,” I argued.

He rolled his eyes as he stopped in front of the door to the second floor. He placed his hand on the doorknob and paused. “Nora--fine. You can come. But keep your mouth shut about the whole thing with Luke Billups thing, okay?”

I smiled and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Deal.”

Not only had I weaseled my way into being invited to whatever type of party was happening at Harry’s on Friday night, but I also weaseled my way into getting a date. So when Kristen and I were stood in the living room, watching as Harry and Niall played pong with Alex and Ryan, I was hopeful that Ethan would be arriving soon.

There were a decent amount of people. A few kids from my major that were friends with Niall, a few guys from the basketball team, a number of girls who seemed to be interested in getting the attention of Harry and his roommates.

Pair that with the lowered lights, the music that was playing way too loud, and the alcohol in every cup, and I was feeling more comfortable by the minute. Even Kristen seemed to be enjoying herself. Georgia Lederman had showed up as well, so we stood in the corner of the room, sipping our drinks and laughing whenever one of the boys did something incredibly stupid.

“Have you seen him yet?” Kristen whispered to me when Georgia got distracted by a fellow classmate.

I shook my head, tilting the rest of my drink back into my mouth. “Nope,” I said defeatedly. “But he’ll be here, he’s the one who brought it up.”

“Anyone need a drink?” Harry’s voice sounded from behind us, I turned suddenly to find him leaning over me, a drunk smile on his face as he waited for our response.

“I’m all set, thanks though,” Kristen smiled up at him.

“I do,” I sighed, somewhat bitter about having to follow him into the kitchen, but also disappointed about the fact that Ethan was still nowhere to be found.

He turned on his heels and started weaving through the living room. I trailed behind, finishing the last of my drink in order to start a new one. Once we were in the kitchen and somewhat separated from the rest of the crowd, I lowered my voice.

“Where’s Ethan?”

Harry pulled a face as he bent into the fridge to grab a beer for himself and a bottle of vodka. “How would I know? He’s not actually my friend.”

“Well you’d have a better idea than I would,” I told him.

He rolled his eyes, taking my cup out of my hands and setting it on the counter. I hoisted myself up, happy to sit on the section of counter that connected into the living room--my back to the crowd--watching as he twisted off the top of the bottle and poured a shot’s worth into my cup. “M’sure he’ll show up eventually. Lemonade or cranberry?”

“Lemonade.”

He poured some in and stirred with a knife. He took a sip first and then handed it over to me. I hopped down and took it, but both of us turned to the door when it opened and revealed more people in the hallway.

Low and behold, Ethan Davis stood behind two other members of the basketball team, a smile on his face as Alex greeted them at the door.

“It’s about time,” I said under my breath, only loud enough for Harry to hear--who only let out a short laugh.

Ethan squeezed his way through the people in the hallway, joining us in the kitchen as he offered hellos. “How’s everybody doin’?”

“Great, hi, how’re you?” I asked, offering a side hug as he leaned into me. Harry made a face but turned around to grab a beer from the fridge, offering it to Ethan without a greeting.

“Good, happy to be here, how are you two? Glad to not be at the library?”

“Totally,” I laughed, sipping at my drink to make myself feel less awkward.

“Actually get to just hang out tonight, right? Must be hard to work with your significant other,” he laughed.

“What?” I tilted my head sideways, sure that I had misheard him. Harry let out some sort of laugh but looked just as interested in Ethan’s next words.

“Aren’t you two, like--y’know--together?”

I pulled my head back and my eyes went wide--I probably couldn’t have made a more disgusted face if I tried. I looked up to Harry quickly, totally unsure of how we’d given Ethan that impression. Maybe it was the bickering. Maybe it was the time Harry pulled me into his bedroom last week in front of Ethan. Whatever it was, Ethan couldn’t have been more--

“Right,” Harry nodded, slinking an arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. “Yeah, we are, actually.”

“What?” I said again, looking up at him, eyebrows knit together in confusion and annoyance. He smiled down at me and widened his eyes, somehow conveying that he had a plan and that it was in my best interest to go along with it. I let out a sigh, hoping to God that he wasn’t about to screw me over. I twisted my mouth into a small smile. “I thought we weren’t telling anyone about it, babe?”

Harry laughed a little. “Yeah, well, it’s just Ethan. He’s a pal.”

Funny--that was a change of tune from what he’d said five seconds ago.

Ethan let out a laugh and slapped Harry on the arm. “Happy for you two.”

I forced a grin in his direction--feeling suddenly stuck against Harry’s side and under his arm. Kristen, who was watching on in the corner with Georgia and Kate Levinsky, had the most confused look on her face. She wasn’t the only one.

Ethan got distracted suddenly, pulled into the living room by Ryan to play a round of pong, which gave me the perfect opportunity to pull Harry aside and smack him upside the head for a whole hour. “Excuse me, bedroom, now.”

Harry raised his eyebrows at this. “Didn’t know you’d be so willing,” he laughed, only causing me to roll my eyes at his stupid joke. I pulled him by the shirt into his room, shut the door behind us with a thud, and set my drink down on his bedside table to cross my arms.

“Okay, relax,” he said slowly, drawing out the phrase in a mess of slurred words and accent. “That’s the most interested in you he’s seemed. So, you’re welcome.”

“You’re welcome?!” I repeated his words in a high pitched voice, my anger getting the best of me.

“Nora, just chill, alright? It’s not real. Just let him think that for a week or something and then you can tell him we ended things and he’ll want to swoop in.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s Ethan Davis,” he shrugged. “He’s kind of that guy.”

I looked at him with wide eyes, expecting him to continue. He sighed again. “Y’know--he has a reputation for being kind of a rebound. He hooked up with Charlotte something in your major. Right after her and Andrew Best broke it off?”

“Just because he did it once doesn’t mean he’d do it again.”

“He did it with Allie Nguyen and Peter Norville too.”

“Okay, but, you don’t know that it means he’s actually like, into that.”

Harry rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed that I wasn’t more appreciative of his quick thinking.

“And besides, fake dating is stupid and it won’t work and it would require that we spend more time together outside of the library than we’ve already done this week. Don’t you hate me? Don’t you not want anything to do with me?”

He shrugged. “If it means you’ll keep your mouth shut about what I told you and cover my ass when I’m sometimes late for shifts and if it will get you closer to Ethan so you shut up about him, I’ll do it.”

I sat on his words for a second. He sipped at the beer in his hand and gave me an expectant look, as if he were impatiently waiting for my answer.

It felt stupid. It felt like it was bound to go wrong and things would get weird and complicated and then what if at some point things between me and Ethan actually did work out? What if we ended up married and I’d have to tell him that I lied about being with Harry to make him interested? I could already picture the emotional break up scene with Ethan in my head where he found out I lied and felt betrayed and I didn’t know if I wanted to go through that.

But maybe I was getting ahead of myself.

I let out a breath--and Harry seemed to tilt his head to prompt me to answer him.

“Fine, okay. Fine.”

#totally uninterested #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles imagine #harry styles au #harry styles writing #harry styles uni au #harry styles fic #harry styles au fic #harry styles au fanfic #harry styles uni fanfic #harry styles uni au fic

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takemedancingmaine · 6 years

Text

Brunch and Bonding

“Ruby!”

Liam called my name as soon as I opened the cafe door. I didn't even have a second to look around or judge how busy the place was. I was still half out of the building when I looked over and spotted him and Louis and Niall holding down a table for us.

“Hi!” I smiled wide at the sight of them and shrugged off my coat as I made my way over to the table they'd chosen. Louis has placed himself next to Liam, so I sat down next to Niall.

“Cleo is going to be a little late, but Ana and Harry are on their way,” Liam said as he passed me a menu. He had his glasses on again. I think he was starting to do it more now as a style choice rather than just always wearing contacts. They looked nice, despite the teasing Harry had done the first time he’d seen them.

I smiled at him in thanks and then looked from him to Louis, who had this ridiculous smug look pulled onto his face. I wanted to knock it off his face but I restrained myself. Barely.

“Did you have any trouble with the train?” Louis asked with a nod toward a couple at the counter of the cafe who were decked out in Cubs gear and were grabbing their coffees to go.

“The platform was miserable,” I shook my head at the thought of just how packed it was. Platform foot traffic was being controlled by police it was so bad. Hordes of people waiting for the elevator and what looked like a funnel effect of people trying to squeeze down the stairs made the trip up the stairs all the more horrific.

“If I didn’t love the Cubs so much… They’re playing the Red Sox today, and I kind of wanted to deck one of their fans,” I shrugged

It could be worse. I was getting on the train where everyone else was getting off. The train cars were relatively empty for me. For everyone else in either direction though, the cars were packed worse than they could get during rush hour and that probably explained why Cleo, Ana, and Harry weren’t here yet. Some trains didn’t even bother stopping at some of the stations because they were too full.

I reached across Niall to steal Louis’ orange juice and managed a sip before he yanked the glass from my hand as I was taking a second sip.

I got orange juice up my nose. Immediately, I started coughing and tried to cover my face with my hands as fast as possible.

“Oh, come on, Ruby! You’re in public,” Louis chastised me with a glint of humour in his eyes while Niall worked quickly to hand me his napkin that had been spread across his lap. Liam just giggled, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes popping out, very much used to mine and Louis’ endless banter.

“Thank you,” I said to Niall as I wiped the orange juice off my face and hand. I then swapped his dirty napkin for my clean one.

“No problem,” he said. He smiled and unfolded my clean napkin across his lap as I left his used one bunched on the table beside me.

“I can’t take you two anywhere,” Liam shook his head while using his teacher voice. Louis and I rolled our eyes together at him.

Niall laughed at that. “Two peas from the same pod,” he looked between me and Louis.

I shrugged and Louis raised his glass of orange juice to me in a mock toast before taking a sip. I flipped him the bird.

“So you’re a baseball fan then?” Niall asked me as Louis went back to his menu and Liam started typing on his phone that had chirped a few times throughout the ordeal.

“I’m a Cubs fan, yeah,” I nodded. “I didn’t pay attention to baseball at all until I got to college and went to baseball games, and Cleo’s a massive Cubs fan so I became one by association. Now that I’m here I’m always going. I never can watch it on TV though,” I explained. “I can sit all day and watch it when I’m in a stadium, but I get bored after five minutes if I’m watching on television.”

“It must be great then living that close to the stadium,” he said and took a drink from his mug. I couldn’t tell if it was coffee or tea. Although I had a suspicion he drank tea because of his European roots, he also struck me as someone that would drink multiple cups of coffee a day.

“I love it,” I told him and smiled, thinking about how much I loved Wrigley Field. It was like a second home. More often than not I’d go to games alone. Weeknight games and early in the day weekend games when my friends were busy… I’d just go, get a beer (for a jacked up price, to be fair), and sit and watch and relax. For me, baseball was about the atmosphere. I would breathe it in whenever I could.

“It’s the one sport I don’t understand,” he shook his head now. “I’ve been to a few games, but I just never really got it.”

I had to bite back my gasp. I couldn’t really be the one to say anything because I didn’t care about it for the first eighteen years of my life, but I also cared so much now that it was odd to me that he didn’t.

Louis gave Niall a look over his menu. I saw it because I had glanced at Louis when Niall said he didn’t understand baseball. Louis looked from Niall to me with amusement written all over his features. I quirked an eyebrow but Louis just shook his head. Niall, who’d been looking at his own menu, has missed mine and Louis’ silent exchange.

“Well, the Cubs have made the National League Championship series, and we might be going as a group to one of the games,” I said to Niall now. “So if that happens, you’ll have to pretend to enjoy it for a few hours.”

“Or I could pretend to be sick,” he smiled and then laughed when I gave him a look of surprise. “I’m totally kidding. Sitting out in the cold with my mates drinking pints is something I’m always up for, even if baseball is involved.”

“Good,” I gave him a look and he smiled at me, his blue eyes flashing with delight before we both turned back to our menus.

“Can I get you something to drink?” The waitress had come up beside me and scared me half to death. With the cafe being full of people I hadn’t heard her approach and suddenly she was speaking to me from less than a foot away.

Quickly I ordered a cup of green tea as my heart rate slowed back down. When the waitress walked away I could see Niall smirking as he looked studiously down at his menu and ignored my gaze.

Just as I was about to call him out for it, Harry sat down beside me with a bright green and yellow Packers jersey on over his sweater.

I just laughed at his audacity as everyone else looked up and noticed his and Ana’s arrival.

“Before anyone says anything,” Ana said in a tired voice as she sat down next to Liam on the opposite side of the table, “I told him not to wear it.” She poured herself a glass of water and smiled at us all.

“They’re my team!” Harry defended himself as he leaned in and gave me a one armed hug. I hugged him back and fluffed his curly hair a bit before righting myself and handing him my menu. I’d made my choice.

“You’re from Ohio!” Liam groaned. “I cannot believe I have to be seen in public with you while you’re wearing that thing.” He was looked around us in hopes that no one in the cafe was giving us dirty looks for Harry’s attire choice. I doubted anyone here would say anything, but Liam’s cheeks flamed as he surveilled.

“No one in my family likes football,” Harry shrugged. “I just chose a team when I was younger and went with it.”

“We’ve heard all of your excuses before,” Louis waved his hand flippantly. “How was your dancing class?”

Harry’s cheeks turned the brightest shade of pink at the mention of the dancing class that he and Ana were in so that they could get ready for their wedding reception.

Harry was embarrassed, but Ana thought they were a good idea. Not just for their first dance--she knew Harry would be able to manage their first dance fine, it’s a basic step--but for the rest of the reception. Knowing Ana and Harry, they’d pick some absolutely ridiculous songs to play and Harry would undoubtedly show his true colours when they came on.

As a result of a few nights out, we all knew that Harry’s dancing fit into one of two categories. The first was dirty; he could be cheeky and crude despite his angelic looks. The second of which was much funnier: it was dad dancing. This second category included quite a bit of finger pointing and hip shimmying. He could make any night out entertaining for all of us no matter which category he was choosing his dance moves from at the time.

Ana’s face took on a devious look though and as Harry hid his face in his hands she started to tell a story from their class. Liam and Louis leaned forward in anticipation.

“He was like a baby giraffe,” she laughed and I heard him groan from beside me.

I smirked and listened along with everyone else as the waitress came by and dropped off my tea. We all ordered food quickly--Liam telling us Cleo said not to wait last he had checked the group chat--and Ana went back into the story.

“So we’re alone in this studio waiting for everyone else in the class to show up--because in typical Harry fashion we’d gotten there awkwardly early--and I’m trying to act like everything is fine, but Harry is stood in front of the mirrors just pulling out all these old man dance moves and a group of firefighters all dressed up in their gear walks by the big glass windows in the back of the room and they start cheering him on and I’m mortified! But Harry here kept going. He was enjoying it!”

One glance at the man beside me shows me that he’s not enjoying the retelling, even if he did enjoy it at the time. We’re all in a fit of hysterics when Ana pulls out her phone and shows us some video evidence of the incident. I can feel my sides aching by the time our food arrives and we all settle down enough to eat and talk about the music trivia night Cleo had sent to us last night.

When she finally arrived, she looked radiant as she sat down beside Ana and settled into our conversation. Cleo had put makeup on and was wearing a sweater that I was positive covered up a cute blouse. She was wearing her cleanest pair of loafers and nicest pair of black skinny jeans.

She had a date later.

I raised my eyebrow at her as I took a sip of my newly refreshed tea. She gave me a smirk and a nod in return while she listened to Liam talk about plans for trivia night. It wasn’t for around three weeks, but if anyone knows anything about Liam it’s that he’s a planner.

So I was right. She did have a date after this.

It was when Liam was asking Niall a question about his music knowledge that my ears perked up.

“Basically anything after 1960 is fair game for me,” he answered Liam. “My dad was big on oldies when I was growing up, but me mum made sure to introduce me to anything that was big currently.”

“Niall was also a music minor,” Louis said before stuffing a bit of blueberry muffin into his mouth. He made a face before looking down at the muffin. I just knew he was thinking through the ingredients and trying to pinpoint the tastes he was experiencing. “He’s literally always listening to music or playing it. D’you still have your guitar?”

“I’m not always listening to it,” Niall blushed and hid his face for a moment behind his mug. “And yeah, I still have my guitar. Just use it for messing about though, nothing serious.”

“This is so good,” Louis looked down at the blueberry muffin he still had in his hand. Harry laughed at him.

“It’s literally all he thinks about,” Harry laughed more. Louis flipped him off, but he didn’t look quite so upset, just went back to eating and listening to Liam.

I turned to Niall. “What kind of music did your dad listen to?” I asked.

“Oh,” Niall smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “All sorts,” he said. “We used to go on long drives and he’d always have a cassette tape playing.”

I laughed at that. “I remember my mom’s cassettes all over our car when I was younger, too.”

Niall brightened at that common ground between us. “We’d just go out and it might be five minutes or three hours to visit his family and we’d be singing along to The Eagles and Fleetwood Mac. He loved Bruce Springsteen and Elton John. Billy Joel was big, too. But he had different stuff too, like Warren Zevon and even some boppy 80s stuff like Naked Eyes and all of the really big one hit wonder stuff from that era too.”

“He sounds a lot like my dad,” I told him with a soft smile. “When my dad came to the States he was young, and even though his parents tried to instil as much of their culture in him as they could, he found he could assimilate himself best, learn the language best, by listening to the popular music of the time.”

“Doing chores with my dad like washing the cars and cleaning out the garage meant we’d be listening to the Beatles and the big 70s and 80s rock bands,” I picked up my mug and held it in my hands, warming them. “He wanted us to know that he found himself in America with the help of the music that was popular when he was growing up. So even though he’d rather listen to oldies, he’d sometimes switch the radio to top 40 when we’d be driving to school.”

“Oh sick,” Niall turned a little bit more to face me. “What was your favourite?” he asked.

I thought for a moment, my face scrunching up as I tried to sort through memories and songs. In the span of a few seconds I had flashbacks of doing homework in my room as my dad did the dishes after dinner while listening to The Beatles and of my sister and I getting driven to school with The Who playing in the background or The Eagles playing while he read the newspaper in his office, the sounds floating under the closed door. I kept seeing memory after memory, hearing song after song.

“I don’t think I can choose,” I admitted. “It’s a cop-out, I know, but… When I hear a song from when I was growing up I just fill up with memories from when I first heard it. I mean, every time I hear Video Killed the Radio Star and Crocodile Rock I think of my sister and the two of us dancing in the back seat of the van we had. Each song is a memory. I couldn’t possibly choose.”

Niall doesn’t say anything for a long time. He stayed silent as he watched me, his eyes searching my face for something. He looked excited, but also curious. It gave me time to look him over for the first time during the meal.

His hair wasn’t styled up like it was all of the other times I'd seen him, rather it was kind of flopping into his face and he’d had to keep pushing it aside. He was wearing his glasses as well. These rounded tortoiseshell things that sat perched on his perfectly straight nose--not that I’d studied his profile or anything in the few times we’d been together. He didn’t look tired either, and I’d assumed he would be after moving time zones and going back to work full time. To put it simply, he looked good.

I refused to look at Louis after that thought crossed my mind. I knew he'd be able to read my face and I wasn't giving him the satisfaction of thinking he was right: he wasn't. I could think that Niall looked good. It didn't mean anything.

“How is it that you just described my thoughts on music exactly?” he asked finally. His voice was soft, almost as if he spoke louder it might disturb whatever he was thinking about, and his eyes were wide with what I assumed was amazement.

I shook my head and took a breath.

“I don't know,” I told him truthfully.

“Isn't it crazy how music can do that, though?”

He looks so into the conversation, so passionate about music and our similar experiences with it. My mind kept rolling and rolling over the fact that we'd had completely different upbringings and yet here we were sitting beside each other in a cafe in Chicago discussing how similar we were at the same time.

“I guess what they say is true,” he said now, his voice conveying the amazement. “Music really is a universal language.”

“It must be.”

“What are we doing here?”

Eventually, Cleo had left to go to her date--which she had promised to tell us all about--so the six of us had decided that we’d just wander around the Magnificent Mile shops before heading our separate ways. Liam and Louis wanted to go to TopShop because they think they are hip and cool, and Ana and I were excited because it was right next to a chocolate shop where they were always giving out free samples.

Harry and Niall were hanging back from the group. They'd done a quick walk around the shop with Liam and Louis, neither of them having found anything. They then left them to their shopping and had come to find me and Ana. The two of us had just gotten our free samples and were meandering around the store when Harry and Niall came up behind us.

Ana rolled her eyes at Harry and shrugged.

“We are looking at all the things I would be indulging in if I didn't have to get fitted for a wedding dress in the very near future.”

Harry smiled and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind.

“You're perfect no matter what,” he said to her and she leaned back into him.

It was adorable to watch as they interacted, but I felt like I was watching something very personal and so I took a step back away from them, continuing to browse as if I would ever buy anything here.

Niall must’ve had the same idea about Ana and Harry and I felt him step up beside me.

He was close enough that I could smell him despite the overwhelming smell of chocolate products, a clean a mix of laundry detergent and whatever cologne he’d put on before he came out for brunch. I tried not to think too much about getting closer and having that scent drag me down.

It should be noted that Niall was currently donning a jean jacket to fight off the chill that had descended once the clouds came out and a wide brim hat, the latter of which explained his hair being much more floppy than usual before. The hat sat right above his ears and just covered his hairline.

It should have looked ridiculous.

It didn’t.

“D’you want my sample?” he asked now as he held up the chocolate to me.

“You don’t want it?” I asked.

“I can’t,” he shook his head, an almost longing look on his face. “I can’t have dairy.”

“You’re lactose intolerant?”

“I think I might be,” he nodded. “Dairy gives me acid reflux, so I stay away from it.”

“Well in that case,” I held my hand out and he placed his chocolate in my hand beside the one I already had. “If I’m helping you out I suppose I can look at it as a good deed.”

He laughed at that. I smiled at his laugh as I slipped both sweets into my coat pocket for later.

“You know one tiny piece of chocolate probably wouldn't kill you,” I said now.

He nodded. “Yeah, I know. But if I start cheating here and there then I'll open myself up to bigger cheats and then I'll be right back where I started.”

“Once you're in you're all in?”

“Oh, it's horrible,” he smiled. “First it's a seemingly harmless chocolate square, then it's some whole milk in my coffee, and then I'll be eating yoghurt and cheese quesadillas and doubled over in pain while desperately chugging down some antacids.”

“Vivid.”

“Thank you,” he gave me a smirk.

“So you drink coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Not tea?”

“I only started drinking coffee when I was twenty-six,” he said. “I held out with tea for as long as I could but once I started on coffee I couldn't go back.”

“It’s so bitter,” I picked up a candy bar and looked at the nutrition facts on the back. I felt my eyes widen as I looked and then I gently placed the candy bar back down.

“I've gotten used to it,” he shrugged. “I only drink it for the caffeine and since I figured out my lactose thing I've started drinking black coffee.”

“You don't even put sugar in it, do you?”

He shook his head.

“Ew,” I made a face.

He laughed but shrugged off my disgust. “There are worse things.”

“Like getting orange juice up your nose because your friend is an insolent child?” I asked.

He wanted to laugh again, I could tell. He held back though.

“Well to be fair you did steal it,” he said.

I gasped. “You're on his side, then?”

“No no no,” he shook his head. “No, I was just presenting the other side of the argument. Making it a fair representation.”

I narrowed my eyes at him but don't say anything. A giggle did end up escaping him but he quickly moulded his face back to neutral before I turned to look.

I found myself throughout the morning enjoying multiple things about Niall.

The first of which was his laugh. Niall laughed loudly and without any inhibitions. He really didn't care who heard. He would throw his head back and close his eyes and just laugh. I'd never met someone who was so bright.

The second was his voice. I’d been around people from all over, grown up with parents that had accents thicker than curry paste itself, but something about Niall’s voice… his cadence and his timbre were all together working to draw me in.

I could quite literally listen to him talk for ages and not get tired of it. Even if he read me the Encyclopedia. I wouldn't get bored. I didn't think any deeper than that, just kept my liking his voice surface level.

“What I don't get,” Niall said now, “is why you didn't just order your own orange juice when you had the chance.”

I laughed. “I don't drink it. I just did it to get under Louis’ skin.”

“You don't drink orange juice?” Niall gave me a look.

“Growing up my parents never let us have juice; they weren't fans of the sugar in it and I just never buy it now. I don't know, I just never felt the need or the want to buy it.”

“You're weird,” he said finally.

I shoved his shoulder, but I didn't take any offence at his words. I got so much crap from my friends for my eating habits, Cleo especially, that I wasn't bothered.

He gave me a smile as we waited for Harry to get his hot chocolate and then we waited outside for Liam and Louis. They each had shopping bags hanging from their hands when they did eventually come up to us.

“Time do you call this?” Ana made a big show of looking at her watch. Liam and Louis started defending themselves, but we all know that they're massive divas about clothes and fashion and that they definitely did not cut their trip short, even knowing that we were waiting for them.

“Get yourself another jean jacket then?” I asked Louis.

“Oh, come off it, I've only got two,” he glared.

“Oh yeah?” I asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Fine. I've got three.”

“There it is. There's the truth,” I nudged him. He just glared at me some more.

“Well,” Ana sighed. “We’ve got to get home. Someone decided to make dinner last night and the mess has yet to be cleaned up. It's literally overtaking the whole apartment.”

“Yeah,” Liam nodded. “I've got an apartment showing later on that I've got to be ready for.”

“You and your side hustle,” Louis shook his head.

Liam had a real estate license and if he had spare time over the weekend when he wasn't working on lesson plans and grading papers, he would do showings, trying to make a bit of extra money. He invested everything, too. Liam was very big on planning ahead--the most recent example being the planning of our trivia night tactics.

“This is a nice apartment,” he said. “If I get the commission I'm finally going to buy a condo instead of renting.”

“Ayyy,” Harry hollered.

“Congratulations,” I jumped up.

“It's all dependent on if I get this sale, but I'm pretty stoked,” Liam beamed back at us all. “I've been looking at places for a few months now.”

“Good luck to you then, Liam,” Ana reached over and hugged him.

“I'll see you guys later then,” Louis nodded. He gave us each a hug and then gave me a pointed look before looking at Niall. He was very conspicuous about it. If Niall has been paying any attention to either of us, he would've definitely seen it. I flicked his ear and he just shrugged it off before walking off with a self-satisfied smile.

“You going to the train?” I asked Niall.

“I am.”

“Well then let's go,” I nodded toward where the station was a few blocks over.

We said our goodbyes the rest of the group and walked off together.

“So what's the deal with the hat?”

“It's because of the hair,” he reached up and adjusted his hat just a bit. “I didn't do anything with it today, so I just shoved a hat on before leaving my flat.”

“I thought your hair looked fine before.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “It looked floofy.”

“Floofy?” He looked over and raised his eyebrow at me, it just about touched the brim of his hat.

“Floofy.”

“Is that good or bad?” He asked.

“Good,” I nodded. “It looked good.”

“I think it's getting too long,” he shook his head, dodging someone on a bike. Because some people like to pretend they're allowed to ride bikes on the sidewalk. Those people suck.

“I think you're worried over nothing,” I said.

“Probably,” he shrugged. “You don’t think the hat is dumb, though?”

“No,” I said. “I actually keep thinking it really shouldn’t work, but somehow it does.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment as well then.”

“It was one.”

We walked together in silence for a while until we got to the station. It was a comfortable silence. Niall beside me was a welcome presence and I was trying not to think about the fact that I could still smell him with each light breeze that blew past us. That clean smell mixed with whatever his cologne was was doing something to my senses. I ignored it. Or tried to.

“Oh,” I said once we got onto the platform, the wind sharper up here, the clouds seemingly more ominous. “How’s the new job?”

His face lit up. A thrill ran down my spine at the sight of his smile, his whole demeanour brightening.

“I love it,” he said now, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets.

“That’s brilliant!”

“I’m genuinely so happy there,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to another, swaying a bit. “It’s like… I spent so long working such crappy jobs and I’ve got all this experience and knowledge and now I’ve got a job with people who seem nice enough and I’m back in Chicago. I’m doing the work I like. Everything seems like it’s falling into place and I’m just really happy with my job.”

“What’s your favourite part?”

“We have this break room, right?” He started as the train came rolling up. “It’s got a coffee machine, one of those pod ones, and a kettle for tea or whatever. The room is filled with all these fun colours and comfy chairs and books that just look so worn down and generously read and loved and I really just want to hole up in there with one of the books and a cup of coffee and just read and relax. The fact that I can relax at work, have a space to do that… It feels really good.”

“I’m really glad you’re enjoying it,” I told him. “It must be nice to be back here and have finally gotten a real job.”

“It’s been pretty great,” he nodded.

We sat down beside each other on the packed train car and eyed up the man who was in charge of three young girls sitting across from us. The man looked miserable, and the girls were using the bars a bit like a jungle gym. The man didn’t even bother to corral the girls, just looked on helplessly as they swung back and forth.

I smirked at Niall and he gave me the same look back and bumped his knee against mine.

“Have you got the song queued up?” he asked.

“Oh shirt!” I said pulling my phone out of my pocket quickly and slipping the head buds out, handing one to Niall and taking one for myself.

“Nice,” he smiled at me and we just sat there for a moment before the voiceover announced Fullerton as the next stop.

“Here we go,” I clicked play and for the next two minutes and forty seconds we sat together listening to the song. Occasionally, Niall’s knee would bump into mine and each time it happened, I’d blush and run a hand through my hair.

By the time the song ended and we arrived at Fullerton I was really rather red in the face, even with my darker complexion I was sure Niall noticed as he bid me farewell and stepped off the train.

Once he’d stepped off he threw me one last look over his shoulder and I waved, giving him a smile back before the train doors closed and I was carried off toward home where I knew I had grocery shopping and cleaning to do.

#I'm still here #still writing this story #as if i'm not the only one i'm writing it for #check it out!#i think it's pretty baller -- you might too!#fic: oth #fic: only ticket home #OTH7 #niall horan fanfic #1dff

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llamasarecoolerthanyou · 6 years

Text

Summer love – Stephan Leyhe & Andreas Wellinger

I can’t believe I’m posting my first Lellinger fanfiction. But after enjoying all the amazing stories from @loving-sports (which everyone should read ❤️ ), I got inspired to try writing one myself. I hope it’s not too bad. 😝

! I changed their sport careers to make the plot work. Stephan and Markus are in the A-team, Andi and Karl in the B-team.

Summer love – Stephan Leyhe & Andreas Wellinger

Andreas felt pretty lucky. Even though he was only on the B-team, this year he was flying to Spain for the pre-season camp.

Usually, only the A-team got to go abroad to prepare for the next year’s competitions. The rest spent weeks in a hardly posh hotel in a German country where nothing ever happened. After the training sessions, your free time activities were limited to reading, movies or cards if your teammates were feeling adventurous. Which wasn’t as often as one might think.

Suffice it to say that the Bavarian often had to go as far as bribery in order not to die of boredom. His pride and the sneaked-in chocolate stash had suffered. It was ridiculous how utterly boring his friends were.

That’s why he literally jumped from joy upon hearing the news. His head coach was going to miss this year’s camp, and as they were supposed to be leaving in two days there was only one option. The B-team was going to be temporarily supervised by Werner Schuster.

It was most likely only a formality and their assistant coach was going to be running everything, but it didn’t change the fact that Schuster and his boys were going to Spain. Therefore Andreas Wellinger, an eighteen-year-old ski jumper from Rupholding, was going to finally live a little.

Carelessly throwing his clothes into the suitcase, he was imagining all the afternoon surfing that awaited him and hoping the gossip about the famous parties thrown by the star team was true. After all, there was no way he was wasting another summer playing Schafkopf.

Two months later

Okay, so the late night parties turned out to be a total bogus. The A-team, though more eager to chat or go out after the gym, didn’t differ that much from his own teammates.

Still, Andi couldn’t care less if they had watched soap operas all day. He didn’t plan to spend any more time with them than it took to say hello. No, all his free time was reserved for one person. Stephan Leyhe, a twenty-one-year-old Hessian, who was still waiting for his first big success in the World Cup.

Their first meeting was a total cliché.

The B-team has just arrived and was finishing checking in at the reception when the more accomplished sportsmen showed up. Only half-listening to his roommate Karl, as the two walked to the elevator, Andreas was too busy posting his latest selfie on Instagram to notice the man coming from the opposite direction. Until they bumped into each other and his phone fell out of his hands.

“I’m sorry, I got lost in thought,” he heard someone say as he bent down to pick it up.

“It’s all fine, I should have watched where I was…“ he started to answer before lifting his head to find a pair of brown eyes, belonging to a handsome man, staring straight at him. Only after noticing a growing smirk on the older one’s face did he snap out of it with a blush and finished his sentence. “…going.”

“Stephan,” introduced himself the brunette and extended his hand.

“Andi,” responded Andreas, shaking his hand and feeling mortified when his voice came out much higher than normal.

Suddenly, they heard someone yelling: “Stephan! Hurry up or I’m leaving and good luck finding our room.”

“I better go, I wouldn’t put it past Markus to leave me stranded here. It was nice to meet you. Sorry again for running into you,” said Stephan with a grin and started to walk towards his waiting roommate.

Andreas continued to stare stupidly after him until he heard his friend laughing.

“Man, you should have seen yourself. Somebody has a crush!” teased Karl.

“Shut up,” spat out the blond grabbing his suitcase and setting off towards the elevator, not waiting for his teammate.

So, it wasn’t by any means the smoothest introduction he could imagine. Fortunately, he was soon given the opportunity to make a better impression.

After spending the evening unpacking and listening to Geiger’s further mocking, Andreas decided to go to bed early. Having spent the night dreaming about a certain ski jumper with the sweetest smile in the world, he woke up an hour before the alarm. He knew he wasn’t going to fall back asleep and decided to get dressed and head to breakfast.

Having grabbed something to eat, he sat down at an empty table. This early the place was almost deserted with the exception of the hotel staff and an older couple in the corner.

A few minutes later, he was startled from his thoughts by the very person he has been daydreaming about.

“Mind if I sit here?” asked someone stopping by his table.

Andreas looked up from his plate and saw the guy from yesterday staring at him with a friendly grin.

“Go ahead,” he replied quickly.

Muttering “thanks”, Stephan took the place opposite him and began to eat his sandwich.

“So, how are you? Excited to start the season?” asked the older one after a moment of silence.

Andi was a little surprised that the man, who was basically a stranger, decided to join him and wanted to talk. It was far more common for the jumpers from the A and B teams to keep to themselves during the competitions or the rare combined trainings.

On the other hand, the only other option was sitting alone. He silently thanked Karl for annoying him enough to make him go to sleep early yesterday.

“Of course but mainly I’m thrilled to be here. There’s really no comparison to our usual location.”

“Yeah, I remember it all too well,” chuckled the brunette. “Have you just joined your team? I’m sure I would have remembered seeing you during a competition.”

Andreas felt his face turn red for the second time since arriving in Spain. He wondered why his body was betraying him all of a sudden. All the blushing and nerves, when he was usually the loudest person in the room making others feel intimidated not the other way around.

“It’s my second season on the B-team but last year I got injured before I had the chance to earn a spot in a World Cup competition.”

“I’m sorry, that’s always tough. I’m sure you’ll have better luck this year.”

“I hope so. I’m so over the kids' team.”

“Come on now, you’ve got time. How old are you? Seventeen?” asked Stephan laughing.

“Eighteen,” mumbled Andi reluctantly. Did he have to look so young? There goes any chance he had with the brunette.

“Sorry, my mistake,” said ironically Leyhe, sending him a smile to show that he’s joking. “Ok, tell me if Muller is still the physiotherapist…”

When the others started to gather in the room, Andreas looked at his watch and was surprised to see that they have been talking for over an hour. It didn’t matter that they had just met or that Stephan was a little older. They hadn’t brought up any heavy topics, but Andi felt that he could tell him anything and not be judged or mocked.

In the following eight weeks you could rarely see one without the other. As soon as their respective trainings were over, they would meet up and spend their free time together much to the annoyance of their other friends.

Most often they would stroll along the beach, sharing stories and secrets. They talked some more about Andi’s injury and his fear of missing out on a successful career because of the forced break. Stephan admitted to feeling frustrated with his slow progress and insecure about his position on the team during the upcoming World Championships.

Sometimes they didn’t say a word and just enjoyed each other’s company. When Stephan was in a good mood, he would let his new friend teach him surfing despite being pretty terrible at it.

Today was their last day together. Tomorrow the B-team was going to travel home while the others stayed on for another week.

Andreas had finished a few hours earlier than usual at the gym, their coach giving them some time to pack, and was now waiting for his friend in his room.

He tried not to think about the inevitably approaching moment when they will have to say goodbye. At last he had to admit, at least to himself, what he had denied all this time. He has fallen for Stephan. There was no other way to explain his feelings lately.

He wanted to spend every possible moment with his older friend and missed him like crazy on the rare occasions when they went out with their separate teams. His heart was slowly breaking at the thought that after today they may go back to being strangers, sporadically exchanging hellos when passing each other during the competitions.

Of course, there are phone calls and e-mails. They will probably meet at some point during the winter if his results are good enough to start in the World Cup. But how often do long distance relationships work out?

And it wasn’t even a romantic one, just a friendship. As much as he felt like they have known each other for years, the truth was they had met two months ago. Andi felt deep inside that something was ending forever.

Anyhow, his feelings for Stephan were going to stay a secret. He couldn’t imagine telling him. He knew that the brunette, despite his kindness and compassion, didn’t see in him a potential partner but rather a kid brother.

Shaking off his wistful thoughts, he decided to focus on enjoying the evening and after quickly choosing an outfit went to the bathroom to prepare.

Soon they were sitting in a café, eating ice-cream and laughing after Stephan told him about Markus’s another crazy idea. It was almost midnight when they finally got back to the hotel after taking a final walk on the beach.

“I’m gonna miss you,” whispered Andreas, hoping that in these simple words his friend will hear everything he wasn’t ready to say.

They were standing in front of his room, quietly saying their goodbyes so as not to wake up Karl. The blonde tried hard not to cry, not wanting to look like a child again.

“I’m going to miss you too, Andi,” said Stephan and cupped Andi’s face in his hands, pulling the younger one closer and kissing him hard.

Andreas returned the kiss and felt a few tears escape his eyes. They stayed locked together for what felt like hours. Finally, Stephan slowly broke the kiss and wiped the tears from his face.

Not saying anything else, the older man took a step back and left with a sad smile.

Andi entered his room, not bothering to try and stop the tears. All he wanted was to hide under the covers and cry, but he quickly put on his pajamas to avoid any questions from Karl in the morning. He spent the next few hours staring at the ceiling, trying not to think about what happened.

He must have fallen asleep sometime during the night because the next thing he heard was his roommate, yelling at him to get up as they were leaving in half an hour. Feeling numb he got dressed, finished packing and before long they were on the bus waiting for everyone to turn up.

Having chosen a seat with a view of the hotel, he spent the minutes before their departure staring at the main entrance but the one person he wanted to see was nowhere to be found.

***

Sequel?

#fanfiction #lellinger #andreas wellinger #stephan leyhe #ski jumping #ski jumping fanfiction #summer love

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bettybou1001-blog · 7 years

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Broken Bone or a Broken Heart?

A bump in the road

I was too eager to finally have my turn to play. The ref whistled, the Rugby ball was kicked off, my team mate caught it and she was tackled to the ground so I went to get the ball out while one of the opponents managed to reach just in time when I was passing the ball to tackle me down. I went down alright but this time I couldn’t get back up on my feet again. I heard my leg crack. I was not tackled properly. The pain I felt at the moment was unbearable that I was struggling to take my breathe. As a reflex action I was trying to re position my leg back to normal but I had no control, it was loose. In no time mode, I was carried out of the field. First aided. My leg was elevated, iced and the game was back on. It all happened too fast. Calmly, I was trying to figure out where exactly my leg was hurt, while the match continued. To be honest I was worried from how the team was warming up at first. We were a bit nervous. I didn’t want us to lose our hard work for that reason. But as always they have amazed everyone including me, as an audience now, with their performance. They truly lit up my heart. And they left me with one reason only to be sad about, which is not being part of this. I did tear because the whole incident was shocking, trying to get my head around it. The day before the tournament. I felt something was going to happen but I had no clue how. I knew that because I pray every night before our tournaments to Allah asking him to protect us from injuries but this time I did pray a lot, as if I knew it would happen. So the whole incident was overwhelming considering a lot of factors. The first thing I spoke after I was able to, was “الحمد الله” while the girls were carrying me outside off the field to the outline.

The struggle

The most challenging thing for me on that day was to stop tearing. It wasn’t because I couldn’t bear the injury. But rather, I felt like I was a a huge plastic bag filled with water. And it was pinned. So I put my finger on the hole to stop the leakage but whoever was near my figure and was able to move it a bit, it leaked again. Until I managed and I was calm again. We spent the rest of the day as we usually do. We ate together then it was time to head back to Cairo. I slept the whole way back. And before we arrive I called my friend to come and pick me up, I didn’t want to worry my mum. My friend said, let’s go right away to the hospital and we did. I did my scans and it appeared to be a broken ankle. We spent 4 hours in the hospital that night. I called my mum and it wasn’t easy to calm her down. Finally I arrived home with the scans, my ankle in a splint, doctor’s prescription and doctor’s words, that it needs a surgery. Of course I didn’t sleep well that night besides, it was not comfortable to sleep in the same position the whole night. Plus I had no crutch yet. So I had to hop to go anywhere. The next step was to tell dad about what happened, my dad works abroad, and to start asking more well known doctors about my case. A week went by and all the doctors I’ve visited said the same thing. That I need to do a surgery. I have not only broken a bone in the ankle but due to the complete tear of the main outside ligament of the ankle, two bones have been separated. So it needs to be put back to position by screws. Hearing the news from the first doctor I have visited was like a slap in the face. I had hope that I can recover without a procedure. All I know about surgeries was only through “ Grey’s Anatomy.” What to expect? What should I do? I knew nothing. I started watching the surgery online. I started calling the doctor frequently and he was horrible on the phone, I wanted him to reassure me about whatever I am asking. But my sister told me “you don’t look like you need to be reassured plus you know he’s busy.” And he is. He’s becoming like a family doctor now. We have been dealing with him since my sister was a swimmer.

The surgery

Day in day out. It’s surgery day already. I am fasting. We are all up early ready to go. One of my teammates joined me on such day. Everything was peaceful we had a photoshoot before the surgery with the ball. Our rugby ball. And then the nurse asked me to start changing to get ready for the surgery. I sat on a wheelchair and the nurse pushed me. Then I had my time, asking Allah for the best. Everything seemed more quite now as I entered the surgical room. First time to see the doctor in scrubs as I always went to his clinic for just soft tissue injuries. I felt so small and the room was too big. They helped me up to lay on the bed. And as the nurse injected a needle for a liquid to maintain my blood pressure during the surgery she asked me if I would want to sleep through the whole surgery or have an anesthetic which wouldn’t let me feel my whole legs while the doctor is working. I chose not to sleep. The doctor started and I felt nothing “ الحمد الله” I started talking to the anesthetic doctor while I saw on the x-ray screen, the screws put right through my bones. It wasn’t as horrible as it sounds. Imagine it as an x-Ray scan but with screws. I looked at the time, almost an hour had passed now. I can imagine how mum is worried from waiting outside, so I asked the nurse if she can tell her that I am okay. Finally time has flew and I was out of the surgical room to the guest room resting until the anesthetic effect runs out. So I can go home safely. I was very hungry. My teammate and sister went to get some food and coffee as the doctor said it would help with awaking me from the anesthetic effect. Few hours later, I felt my leg again and it was time to leave the hospital and go home.

It’s coming to an end :)

I thought I was fine, and I was physically fine considering, I just did a surgery. Until I was faced with my basic needs as a human being. I wasn’t able to go to the bathroom on my own. I wasn’t able to actually sit. It started bothering me very much. And I knew I didn’t want to be left alone with my brain. I teared when my friends started to leave. And it wasn’t helpful for them. They had their lives to keep going with. So I calmed down and they were able to leave in peace. I on the other hand started fighting all my bothering thoughts and I was trying to force my normal life thoughts back but it doesn’t work that way. All of a sudden I had a breakdown, I cried my heart and lungs out. My mum was frightened but my sister understood that I needed to let it all out. Finally It’s bed time, I was just hoping to be able to sleep. But the pain reliever effect was gone and I couldn’t take any more until sunrise. It was very cold night for me. I couldn’t sleep a minute from the amount of pain I felt in my ankle. My sister wasn’t able to sleep too because of me that night. She had to assist me each time I needed to go to the restroom and I shouldn’t lower my leg under any circumstances, I wouldn’t bear the pain anyways. The anesthetic made me very thirsty I kept on drinking all night and of course I had to go to the bathroom. Imagine you are completely asleep and exhausted from the day then someone wakes you up at around 3 am. Plus you know that someone is not okay so you wake up abruptly. It’s something you don’t want. This was repeated about 4 times along the night. Few hours later, I finally could take a pain reliever, daytime has arrived with better vibes and try again breeze. Everything felt better. Days have passed, pain has diminished, my appetite was coming back to normal. I finally started to get some food in my system. A Week flew by, I went for the first visit to the doctor after the surgery. He checked the surgical cut, everything seemed fine. And we agreed to visit again next week. I felt way better way lighter. I am starting to feel me again. Until I met someone who had a car accident and he came out of it, complete leg paralyzed. I was grateful that my only challenge is to not be able to play the sport I love for a couple of months. He also gave me more positive energy and reassurance. If he can go on with his life and he’s paralyzed I definitely can do way more. Things are getting better for me now, towards several things I was trying to plan lately and I believe it’s only because Allah has planned for it.

#rugby

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theinvinciblenoob · 6 years

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Founded in 1990 by CEO Bahram Akradi, Minnesota-based Life Time used to be known as a premier health club that operated large gyms mainly in affluent suburbs in Midwestern and Southern states. Its success was memorialized in 2015 when two leading private equity firms, Leonard Green & Partners and TPG Capital, led a $4-billion deal to take the company private. But rather than retire or move on to new challenges, Akradi chose to remain in his leadership post and continue to build the Life Time brand.

Just a few years later, Life Time, which has always been profitable — even in the depths of the Great Recession — is enjoying double-digit top-line growth, which should enable it to top $2 billion in revenues next year. With the median household income of its members topping $100,000 throughout its 139 clubs, Life Time has sought to build a central relationship with its discriminating clientele by adding extensive health, wellness, spa and sports offerings.

For the company’s next act, Akradi plans to make a big leap into co-working and residential living, and he’s spending considerable time with shopping mall landlords as they look to replace struggling anchor stores with vibrant new tenants. A one-time immigrant who has overcome his fair share of adversity, Akradi understands that he will encounter formidable competitors as he adds new services that are not within the typical scope of a company with fitness roots. But Akaradi doesn’t have time to dwell on his boundary-busting ways. Instead, he’d rather talk to you about his Four Seasons-esque vision for his company and his desire to serve a customer’s mind, body and soul at play, at work and at home.

Gregg Schoenberg: It’s great to see you, Bahram. Let me kick things off by asking you how you found your way here from Iran.

Bahram Akradi: I came here one year before the revolution [1978] to get an engineering degree and go back. Of course, a year later, there was nothing to go back to.

GS: Now, 40 years later, Life Time is a great American brand. But for those not familiar with it, what’s the elevator pitch?

BA: We’re thinking about your health, your nutrition, your spiritual wellness, anything that touches your life. With that in mind, we wanted to focus on the member point of view, to create something where the member felt like our club was designed with them in mind.

GS: Two things are notable about Life Time relative to a lot of other health and wellness-related companies. One is that you have more clubs in the suburbs than in the cities, and two, you have more clubs in America’s heartland versus the coasts. What was the thesis? Did you say, “Let Equinox and others duke it out in New York, D.C. and California. Let’s be aggressive in Minnesota, Texas and Indiana”?

BA: That’s a great question. Actually, I left the company that I had sold to Bally’s in 1988 to build new clubs. The first target market for me was San Francisco. In fact, I spent three years of my life traveling back and forth to San Francisco trying to secure sites and financing. For one reason or another, things just would not come together. So, finally, I was able to start a tiny little club that had been vandalized and closed—

GS: —in Minnesota.

BA: Yes, in Minnesota. But the idea wasn’t originally to be a Midwestern company, and then kind of accidentally get to the coasts. We had always planned to be a national company. The benefit of starting on the coasts is that people know your brand. Your brand gets built, and then you can go everywhere.

GS: But there are offsetting benefits to starting in the Midwest, no?

BA: Starting in the Midwest is tougher. The economies and market can be less robust. Plus, you can do magical things and nobody talks about it. But the benefit is that today, we go to the East Coast, we go to the West Coast, we go to Miami, to all of these hot markets, and we get to build our best product in the hottest markets.

This isn’t a noble idea. It’s been done for hundreds of years in other countries where they have had massive populations.

GS: Actually, I hadn’t heard of Life Time because of that best product. Instead, I have this friend who lives in the suburbs of Philadelphia, who one day told me that he was working at this terrific co-working facility launched by Life Time. So with that backstory, let me ask you this loaded question: Is it easier to start a co-working facility when you already have health clubs, or is it easier to start health clubs when you’re already in the co-working business?

BA: Co-working is a substantially less complicated business to operate than a health club. We both rent space. We both have to fit that space to the needs of the customer, and then we have to provide the programs and everything else. But the health club business is significantly more work than the co-working business.

GS: It sounds like you view them in similar fashion.

BA: Like the club business, we think of co-working as a subscription business. I see it as a continuation of what I wanted to do at the beginning: make things more convenient for my customers. Some of those people would like to work in an environment where they can go downstairs and get their massage or workout. For us, tying it together is a completely natural move.

GS: In five years’ time, how many co-working facilities would you like to have?

BA: I’d say 50 to 60.

GS: Wow. So, a good part of your business?

BA: Yes, but our clubs are so large that even at 50, they’re not equal to 50 of our clubs in terms of revenue. But we think we have a great approach to co-working at the very high end.

GS: What does very high-end mean to you?

BA: The one company we admire and regularly give accolades to at Life Time is Four Seasons. I love their execution. I love their consistency. I love the way each employee is certified and trained to give you the Four Seasons brand of service. We constantly work on delivering that at LifeTime, and that extends to Life Time Work.

GS: You are the largest private operator of swimming pools in the country, right?

BA: That’s correct.

GS: So, in the future, if I’m choosing between Life Time Work and WeWork or another co-working brand, one benefit of your offering is that there’s is a decent shot that you’ll be able to go for a swim in the middle of your workday, right?

BA: That’s right.

GS: That is something that, I would imagine, is not so easy for anybody else, including WeWork, to replicate.

But it’s not as easy as you may think to deliver the feeling of our club into one of those boxes.

BA: I will tell you this: I think WeWork is a phenomenal entity. They have to get credit for what they have done. Co-working existed long before WeWork showed up. They made it the real thing. They put it on the map, and they have created enough size and momentum for other people to step in.

GS: To that point, as you know, WeWork has made a modest foray into residential living. Is that also on your roadmap?

BA: It’s called Life Time Living.

GS: Would that residential offering be integrated alongside the clubs and the co-working facilities?

BA: Yes, and the concept is to bring Life Time Work, Life Time Living, Life Time Resort and sports all together under one roof, and create basically the Life Time Village. This Life Time Village is naturally and intuitively environmentally friendly because you have a car, but you don’t have to use your car for as many trips as you do if you live in disjointed places. This isn’t a noble idea. It’s been done for hundreds of years in other countries where they have had massive populations.

GS: A modern-day town square of sorts.

BA: Exactly.

GS: On that note, I watched the videos associated with your Oklahoma City opening. A few of the people featured said, “I can cancel my country club membership” or, “I can cancel my golf club membership.” That resonated with me, because I’ve always felt like when I’m in an elegant golf club, some guy in a Kelly green blazer is going to tap me on the shoulder and ask me to leave. Do you see Life Time as sort of the alt golf club?

BA: Yes, except I think there’s a place for the country club with golf, because there are some people who want golf.

GS: Sure.

BA: But there are also people like you who don’t want golf. I don’t golf, but my nephew golfs. Compared to athletics, however, golf is played by a much smaller percentage of the population on a regular basis.

GS: Your new club in the Baybrook Mall near Houston and your club in Oklahoma City were both mall-based properties. As you well know, people attribute what’s going on with shopping malls to e-commerce in general and Amazon specifically. Do you see an opportunity for Life Time to become the new anchor of a reimagined shopping mall?

BA: Yes, exactly. Think of the size and the scale that we can deliver. We have approximately 3,000 to 4,000 people with a very high median household income come to each club per day. That’s a lot of foot traffic with money to do other shopping. So, yes, we can play that role. But it’s not as easy as you may think to deliver the feeling of our club into one of those boxes. We generally don’t. Instead, just as we did in Oklahoma City, we need to build on a freestanding piece of a shopping center, and it takes a lot of work.

GS: So if there’s a Sears that is closing in a mall, you can’t just go in and inhabit that box.

BA: Well, it’s not going to be the experience that we have developed for our brand. But it doesn’t mean that we can’t make it work in some locations.

I would literally pay to do my job.

GS: Do you create that experience in-house?

BA: Actually, Life Time has its own development company. We have over 120 architects and engineers. We have our own construction company. We have our own mill shop. So, we’re also a vertically integrated development company.

GS; Given that team and the particulars involved, I’d imagine you’re spending a lot of time with mall owners today.

BA: Oh, regularly. We are in the think tank with them about the opportunities where it makes sense. And I think that there’s at least one thousand locations of the big retailers, like a Sears, or Macy’s, or JCPenney that will become available. But that doesn’t mean you can put a thousand clubs there…

GS: Sure.

BA: In some of those locations, you will find opportunity to build our type of product, and some places it could be apartments. Some places could be office buildings. In some places, it could be all of the above. It’s definitely additive to our traditional opportunity, where we’d go find a raw piece of land to build our club on 12 or 14 acres.

GS: A few years ago, I know you launched a foray into an integrated health solution, and you ran into some challenges. Can you talk a little bit about that?

BA: I still feel passionate about that integrated health model. The problem with our healthcare system is that it’s neither driven 100% by government nor 100% by private enterprise. And right now, it’s in a train wreck. At this point, we kept one of our clinics open for primary care, in which we deliver this integrated, optimal health model. I do remain passionate about it, but from a business model perspective, it just doesn’t work.

GS: What does work is your overall financial model. Do you ever look at the metrics of some of the unicorns that have never approached profitability and think to yourself, “My company is growing very quickly, has scale and is well-diversified across the country. If it were a start-up, positioned as a tech company and had a few large Silicon Valley VCs on the cap table, my company would be worth a stratospheric amount”?

BA: (Laughs) My job is to serve Life Time and its causes, mission, and vision. And while I can see the folks who have become billionaires on paper, I don’t ever think about somebody else being worth more money. When we die, we all go away with absolutely nothing. And right now, I am so lucky to live the life I live and to do what I do. Not only would I do it for free, I would literally pay to do my job.

GS: You ran Life Time as a public company, and now as a private company. Does that represent a major difference for you ? The quarter-to-quarter pressure, the conference calls, grinding non-deal roadshows, etc….

BA: The quarterly conference calls were just never a concern of mine, because I think we either beat or met the street expectations in 41 of the 44 quarters we were public. We have impressive discipline inside of the company, and it extends beyond me. So we’re not worried about it. If we have to be public, we’ll be public. If we have to have other shareholders, we’ll get them in.

GS: It sounds like either way, you’ve got plenty of room to grow. Best of luck to you.

BA: Thanks very much, Gregg.

via TechCrunch

#IFTTT #TechCrunch

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postgamecontent · 6 years

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NES Switch Online - The Launch Games

While Nintendo’s new paid online service isn’t making everyone happy by any means, I personally generally appreciate what the company is doing with its retro catalogue this time around, if not necessarily the speed at which it’s doing it. The NES Switch Online app, along with whatever similar apps come down the road, could finally give us a sort of Netflix for classic games. The biggest issue, as I see it, is the way Nintendo plans to distribute the games, with 20 NES games available at launch and a few added every month thereafter. It’s going to take a while to even build up to the Virtual Console libraries found on the Nintendo 3DS and Wii U, let alone the salad days of the Wii Virtual Console.

Still, this does provide a means for people to discover and play games they may not have tried before. If you subscribe to Switch Online, you’re getting all of these games no matter what. With the slow pace of releases, you might be inclined to spend a little time with each one that comes. Or you might just ignore the whole thing, I don’t know. Anyway, I thought what I would do is to give a little run-down of each game that comes to this app, with a new write-up corresponding to each month’s releases. These aren’t going to be in-depth by any means, but hey, it’s something to read, right?

1. Donkey Kong

Well, it’s the NES version of Donkey Kong. Seemingly obligatory, but it very well may be the least necessary of the whole lot so far. It’s not so much that it’s a bad game of Donkey Kong, but with the more complete arcade version available on Switch through Arcade Archives and the fact that this NES version is so utterly commonplace among Nintendo’s many retro re-issues, it’s hard to get excited about it. Turn-based multiplayer means the online play isn’t worth a lot here.

One Good Thing: It’s short and sweet.

One Bad Thing: That missing stage rankles.

2. Mario Bros.

Compared to Donkey Kong, this is a better port of a worse game, but Mario Bros. can still offer a good bit of fun for one or two players. It’s another common re-issue that has its arcade version already available on the Switch, but the online play and the fact that the NES port isn’t missing anything big the way Donkey Kong is means that if you want to play Mario Bros., this is a perfectly good way to do it.

One Good Thing: Mario’s controls are a bit more forgiving in the NES version.

One Bad Thing: It gets repetitive quickly.

3. Baseball

I’m sure Baseball has its fans, but I can’t say I’m one of them. There are better baseball games on the NES, and I suspect we’ll see some of them eventually added to this app. It can be fun with a second player if you’re in the right mood, but it’s not very enjoyable in single player at all thanks to the merciless CPU. I suppose it’s good that Nintendo dropped a bunch of the “black box” releases into the launch line-up, though, so that they won’t be taking up valuable slots in the monthly releases from here on out.

One Good Thing: It captures the basic feel of the sport.

One Bad Thing: The CPU opponent is a bit too strong.

4. Tennis

This has aged a little better than Baseball, but it’s still about as basic a take on the sport as you can get. It’s another example of a game that can be a little fun with a second player, but isn’t all that great if you have to match up against the nasty CPU opponent. It’s a slightly rarer sight in Nintendo’s retro re-release initiatives than some games, so I guess it’s nice to see it here in that sense.

One Good Thing: This isn’t too far from today’s tennis games.

One Bad Thing: It can be tricky to gauge elevation and distance.

5. Excite Bike

Excite Bike is a game that I didn’t think much of back in the day, but have come to appreciate quite a bit. There’s not a lot to it in terms of content, but it feels good to learn and make use of the game’s mechanics. It mostly comes down to regulating engine heat and making sure you hit the ground running after each jump, but it’s all nice and satisfying once it clicks.

One Good Thing: The controls are fantastic.

One Bad Thing: The course-builder just doesn’t live up to its potential.

6. Balloon Fight

A shameless clone of Joust? Yes, but a very well-made one. Balloon Fight is an enjoyable arcade-style experience and even offers a nice two-player mode to play with a friend. The Balloon Trip mode gives you something different to do with the skills you learn in the main game, giving you something to come back for. Balloon Fight is a pretty common sight in Nintendo’s retro initiatives, so there’s a good chance you already own this somewhere. Nevertheless, it’s worth playing, so it’s worth including here.

One Good Thing: Balloon Trip makes for a great score attack experience.

One Bad Thing: There isn’t enough meat on the bones to fully satisfy.

7. Ice Climber

Extremely common and not that great of a game, Ice Climber is not the strongest reason to fire up this app, to say the least. I can see what the game is going for, but it just feels clunky and rough in a way that few Nintendo games do. Oh well, it’s here, and that means it won’t be taking up a slot later. Unlike, say, Urban Champion. Now that’s going to be a terrible month.

One Good Thing: There are a lot of cute details in the graphics.

One Bad Thing: The collision detection on ledges is hard to read.

8. Soccer

Interestingly, every region got the same line-up of games this time around. Soccer probably wouldn’t have made the cut for the American service if that weren’t the case, but I’m sure it has its fans in most other regions. This is again a case of an okay sports game that got greatly outclassed by future releases on the system. Some fun with a second player, but not much more than that. Still, it’s not something we see in every bundle of Nintendo classics, so welcome aboard, I guess.

One Good Thing: It covers the basics well enough.

One Bad Thing: It doesn’t really capture the feel of soccer.

9. Super Mario. Bros

A genuinely great game that I’d reckon every Nintendo fan has already bought numerous times. It had to be here, and I’m glad it’s here. Now I can stop trying to put up with Vs. Super Mario Bros.’s nonsense every time I want to scratch my Super Mario Bros. itch while playing my Switch. You’ve played it before, but let’s be real: you’re probably going to play it again.

One Good Thing: Plenty to enjoy at a fast pace or slow crawl.

One Bad Thing: The castle mazes.

10. The Legend of Zelda

I’m actually a little surprised that Nintendo put this one into the launch line-up. The Legend of Zelda is another one of those games everyone has bought and played many times, but it definitely qualifies as a big gun that could carry a month if it had to. I still really like this game a lot. It’s tough, and if I didn’t already know where almost everything is I might not be as forgiving of its vague nature, but I never have a bad time replaying it.

One Good Thing: The dungeon designs are great.

One Bad Thing: The hints can be pretty opaque.

11. Gradius

Gradius is an excellent shoot-em-up, and although the NES wasn’t going to be able to do an arcade-perfect port on its best day, this version is more than good enough to do the original justice. It’s a good pick for a third-party title for the launch of this app. It hails from fairly early in the system’s life, but quite playable today. Also frequently re-released, but worth a spin regardless.

One Good Thing: Having a full set of power-ups feels awesome.

One Bad Thing: It’s really hard to get back on track after dying.

12. Ghosts ‘n Goblins

This port, on the other hand, could probably have been better. Micronics did some lousy work on the NES in general, and I suppose by that developer’s standards Ghost ‘n Goblins turned out alright. It doesn’t look great, but the gameplay is more or less what it should be. It’s another common re-release, but people seem to enjoy banging their heads against it. A nice starting point for Capcom releases in this app, if nothing else.

One Good Thing: The variety of stages keeps things fresh.

One Bad Thing: The qualifications for seeing the true ending.

13. Pro Wrestling

A bit of a rarity as retro re-releases go, Pro Wrestling was a Disk System game in Japan that was converted to the cartridge format for international release. While it’s part of the “black box” series of early NES releases, it actually came out years after most of those games in Japan, and it really shows. The gameplay has enough depth to be enjoyable in single-player, and it’s terrific fun with a friend. A nice choice for the starting line-up.

One Good Thing: The character designs are outstanding.

One Bad Thing: Some of the moves are useless.

14. Ice Hockey

Ice Hockey always seems to get left out of Nintendo’s retro re-releases. It might be due to the relatively niche appeal of the sport, or it could be because it was a Disk System game in Japan. It’s too bad, because it’s probably the best hockey game on the NES. Not that that is a particularly difficult achievement or anything, mind you. Hockey is one of those sports that works very well when you simplify it down to basic rules, however, which is probably why hockey video games got better earlier than those of most other sports. Love, love, love that Nintendo included this right from the start.

One Good Thing: You can customize your team, if only a little.

One Bad Thing: Goalies can’t do anything on their own.

15. Double Dragon

This is a weird port of Double Dragon, but it’s a good game in its own right. The slower pace and odd inclusion of added platforming segments make it feel quite distinct from the arcade version. This version is notable for not allowing two-player simultaneous play in the main gameplay mode, which kind of contradicts the title, and the experience point system for unlocking your full set of moves doesn’t work out the way it was probably intended. You do get that weird pseudo-fighting game where you can face off against a buddy, at least. A good choice for a third-party title for the app’s launch.

One Good Thing: Billy’s full move set offers a lot of depth.

One Bad Thing: No two-player mode.

16. Super Mario Bros. 3

This is another one I’m surprised Nintendo didn’t hang onto for a rainy month. But I’m happy the company got it out there right away, as it’s something most players likely already own and have played many times. Even those who have little fondness for the NES generally admit to an appreciation for Super Mario Bros. 3. It plays as well as any Mario game from recent years, so it’s easy to see why it’s held in such regard. I’ll certainly be playing it again. And again. And again.

One Good Thing: It’s full of ideas to an embarrassing extent.

One Bad Thing: Special suits are too scarce to fully enjoy.

17. Tecmo Bowl

Much as Soccer is to Americans, Tecmo Bowl is to the rest of the world. It probably wouldn’t be included in the European and Japanese line-ups if they weren’t all using the same games, since American football is very much localized to North America. Unlike Soccer, however, Tecmo Bowl is still a pretty fantastic representation of the sport. There are better games, even within this series, but licensing makes a lot of them tricky to re-release. This is another common pick, but it’s one that few people would complain about, I think.

One Good Thing: The method of choosing your plays is brilliant.

One Bad Thing: If you don’t know the rules of football, good luck.

18. River City Ransom

With Double Dragon already here, Nintendo definitely could have sat on this one for a bit if it had wanted to. I find it interesting that a game that was definitely considered niche in its day outside of Japan has become a de facto part of just about every collection of NES games, but River City Ransom deserves that recognition. This is probably the most fun you can have with a second player simultaneously in the initial selection of titles. It’s one of most enjoyable multiplayer games on the system, period.

One Good Thing: The RPG and action elements balance well here.

One Bad Thing: There are some technical issues when things get busy.

19. Dr. Mario

Dr. Mario is here. Dr. Mario is always here. Well, what can you do? Tetris involves licensing, so if you want something that was reasonably popular along the same lines, you’re going to end up with Dr. Mario. It’s a little bland compared to some other falling-block puzzle games, but it will occupy your time if you need it to, and its head-to-head versus mode is certainly a blast.

One Good Thing: The music is excellent.

One Bad Thing: It lacks the tension of many other puzzle games.

20. Yoshi

On the other hand, compared to Yoshi, Dr. Mario is absolutely amazing. Yoshi is part of that elite group of Nintendo’s NES releases that seem to get re-released every time even though not many people care about them or enjoy them. I don’t care much about Yoshi, and I do not enjoy it. At least it won’t be taking up a future release slot.

One Good Thing: The graphics are cute.

One Bad Thing: It’s crushingly boring.

Looking at these 20 games, I think Nintendo made some generally good picks. I would have liked to have seen an RPG make it in, but that’s not really in Nintendo’s hands, I suppose. There are enough big games here that the company could get away with shoving in a bunch of simple or mediocre games that would have been a harder sell as part of the monthly drops. It definitely could have been better, but it surely could have been worse, as well. I’ll be back tomorrow to look at the just-released October batch of games, and from there on, I’ll try to get these out day-and-date with each new drop.

#gaming #retro #nes #famicom #nes switch online #nintendo switch #nintendo #switch

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junker-town · 7 years

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David Ortiz doesn't miss baseball because he's having too much fun

An afternoon with the retired slugger, who still gives fans exactly what they want.

MANHATTAN — The chandeliers that hang from the ceiling in the Gansevoort Hotel on Park Avenue match David Ortiz’s shirt. Both are very purple, but the color looks better on the retired slugger than it does in the gaudy lobby. Prince might as well have started designing this room and then given up halfway through the process.

It’s 4:45 p.m. on Tuesday, and Ortiz has just emerged from the elevator after a day spent in one of the hotel’s soulless conference rooms answering reporters’ questions about his new book, Papi: My Story. He looks exhausted. At least that’s the vibe I get from his slumping shoulders; I can’t see his eyes because he has orange mirrored sunglasses on.

An entourage of suits surrounds Ortiz as he makes his way through the lobby and out the revolving doors, speaking rapid-fire Spanish into his phone. Fans are waiting for him outside, holding out baseballs and pens, yelling his name. His handlers guide him past outstretched arms and into a black SUV that’s waiting on the corner.

There’s some confusion as Ortiz’s whole team attempts to get into the car at the same time. When everyone is finally situated, Ortiz seems surprised to find me squished between him and a publicist. I wonder if anyone told him I’d be riding along with him to the Barnes & Noble in TriBeCa where he’s about to sign books for two hours.

Either they didn’t or he forgot, because he doesn’t seem thrilled to have to talk to one more person during what he probably thought was going to be 30-minute respite from his media tour. But here we are. He fields the first few questions I ask him about his first year of retirement with short, polite answers.

Then I tell him I’m from Boston.

“Oh, is that right?” His face lights up. At least he smiles big; I can’t see his eyes behind his glasses.

Yes, I tell him, and explain that we’ve met before. During the Red Sox’s AL Championship run in 2004, I was a student at a high school down the street from Fenway Park. I skipped soccer one afternoon in October to go down to Yawkey Way with a few friends. We spotted players coming out a back entrance, and I shouted Ortiz’s name through the chain-link fence. He came over, and I realized that while I’d brought a marker, I hadn’t brought anything for him to sign. In a moment of panic I took off my flip flop, shoved it under the fence, and asked him for his signature. He wrote his name on my shoe, and I walked back through Boston barefoot.

Ortiz cracks up.

“That’s probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever signed,” he says. “Though I’ve signed some weird stuff. One time this lady got me signing her leg because she said she was going to get a tattoo. And she did! She tattooed my autograph on her leg! She came back to me the following season and she was like, ‘Look.’”

It’s almost surprising to me that more people in Boston don’t have Ortiz’s signature on their legs. For Red Sox fans, Ortiz is frozen in time as the guy who helped break the Curse of the Bambino and then stuck around long enough to win two more World Series. He earned god status in New England.

Now, Ortiz spends most of his time filming commercials, promoting his book, teaching his 15-year-old daughter how to drive, planning a move to Miami so his kids can play baseball outside year round, and turning down party invites from his good friend Lil Wayne (retirement is busy).

Photo by Maddie Meyer/Getty Images

Which brings me to the bad news, Sox fans: While you probably miss him at Fenway, he doesn’t really miss being there.

“My teammates and I go a long way back,” he says as we pull onto FDR Drive. “That’s one thing that I miss. That’s the only thing I miss about the game, hanging out with the boys. I played the game for so long that I basically am OK with not playing now.”

Ortiz’s laughs often; it starts with a booming “What?!” or one big “Ha!” and then fades into a low chuckle with a long tail, like a half-life of funniness. He completely cracks up telling me about his recent trip to the Kentucky Derby, where he had the first 11 a.m.-drink of his life (seriously, he swears). Apparently there’s this room near Millionaires Row that’s filled with bottles of fancy bourbon that blew his mind.

“The entry of the secret room is behind this one picture that’s right next to a giant door,” he says. “This lady did something tricky and the door just opened. Boom! I’m like, I need one of those in my house. They tell you before you go in that it’s all-you-can-drink in like five minutes. Everything is perfect in there. They let me stay a little longer because the lady was a fan.”

That’s the only thing I miss about the game, hanging out with the boys. I played the game for so long that I basically am okay with not playing now.

“Wait, they just put famous people in there and try to get you really drunk?” I ask.

“Yeah, famous people just go in!” He’s laughing again. “There’s no way you can go crazy drinking bourbon, though. Because a couple of them can get you tipsy. But I heard a story while I was there about Sylvester Stallone. He loved the room so much he didn’t wanna leave.”

“Is Sylvester Stallone still in the secret room?” I ask. “Did they just leave him there at the Kentucky Derby?”

Ortiz laughs harder.

“They had to kick him out with security and everything,” he says. “I was like, ‘No way!’”

Once Ortiz gets going, he doesn’t stop talking — he tells me not to give up on my dreams, that he can’t swim, that he and Daddy Yankee are close, and that it’s good I drink Dunkin’ Donuts (even though I think it’s kind of gross) because I “have to represent my city.” He tells me he’s glad he wrote the book so that he could address questions people ask him all the time — including what playing for Bobby Valentine was like for that disastrous year. He tells me that he doesn’t wear his World Series rings. In fact, he’s not totally sure where they are. He’s pretty sure they’re in a safe.

Do I know that World Series rings are smaller than Super Bowl rings? I don’t, so Ortiz tries to show me by gesturing to his huge, diamond-encrusted watch — which matches his massive diamond earring — to indicate the size of a football players’ rock. He adds that “his boy Brady” (Tom, that is) doesn’t wear his championship rings, either.

Bob DeChiara-USA TODAY Sports

David Ortiz at the Celtics’ Eastern conference finals Game 1 against the Cavaliers.

Speaking of his boys, Ortiz talked to another one, Isaiah (Thomas, that is), before the Celtics won Game 7 against the Wizards.

“Isaiah told me this,” Ortiz says. “He says, ‘Papi, I promise you we’re gonna with this. You can put it down: I promise you we gonna win it.”

“It’s hard being a Boston sports fan,” I say sarcastically.

“We know that Boston is a big city of sports,” Ortiz says. “Sports mean a lot to people over there. Boston always pulls the best out of you. That’s how I feel about Boston.”

But Boston doesn’t always give the best back. Fans at Fenway recently called Orioles outfielder Adam Jones the N-word and threw peanuts at him on the field. Ortiz stops laughing and shakes his head when I bring this up.

“Adam, that’s my boy, man,” he says. “Adam is a very, super nice guy. He’s very emotional, and you get a couple knuckleheads out there trying to be smart-asses, saying things they shouldn’t, and it’s frustrating.”

Ortiz says he never experienced racism when he played in Boston. Maybe that’s because he was Our Guy, a local hero. But he insists that “Boston ain’t like that,” and that most people there are “nice and humble.” He also knows, however, that these experiences other players have are very real and very upsetting.

“Now, you know, I had a couple players saying that’s how they feel when they come to Boston,” he says. “You know they have their reason to say it. I don’t see that in Boston — I never experienced anything like it, but on the other hand, planet Earth is jam-packed with stupid people.”

We’re pulling up to the bookstore now, where a line of people wearing No. 34 jerseys stretches down the block and around the corner from the entrance. Ortiz grins; he might be used to it, but this never gets old. We drive around to a loading dock entrance in an attempt to sneak the star in undetected, but one wily little kid somehow manages to sneak in behind the SUV.

Ortiz’s people start to shoo the boy away, but Ortiz tells him to come over. He takes a selfie with him.

Charlotte Wilder

One of the guys running the event is almost half Ortiz’s height. They look somewhat similar, so Ortiz starts calling him “Little Papi.” Little Papi and the rest of the entourage follows Big Papi as he swaggers through the underbelly of this New York City mall as though he were walking up to the plate to hit a grand slam.

We reach the door of the Barnes & Noble. Ortiz takes a deep breath, says he hopes his hand doesn’t cramp up, and enters the room to screams and applause.

Each fan approaches the signing table with a different story. Some thank him for their childhoods. One tells him he’s the reason her son got back into baseball after being diagnosed with type I diabetes, another tells him he inspired her in her fight against cancer. Some ask him to say hi to their parents on the phone. Some cry. At least three fans’ hands are shaking so badly as they try to snap selfies with him that they have to ask the person in line behind them to take the picture.

Many of them say things like, “Thank you for everything you did for Boston.” One guy comes up to the table and tells Ortiz he clerked for the judge who presided over the trial of the Boston Marathon bomber.

“Thank you for speaking for us,” the man says. Ortiz smiles and shakes his hand and tells him of course. An hour before in the car, Ortiz told me that he didn’t realize what he’d said — “This is our fucking city!” — until the clip went viral afterwards.

“I was like oh, ah, did I, ah, really say that?” He laughs again. “But I was angry, man. I can’t tell you right now, I was so mad.”

I watch Ortiz sign books for an hour and 45 minutes. Not once does he show signs of flagging. He’s still wearing his orange shades, but he’s so effervescent that it doesn’t ever seem strange: it’s just what he does. He’s especially happy to talk to little kids and people who come up to him speaking Spanish — “my man!” He spends extra time with a little girl in a wheelchair, with the cancer survivor, with a young man wearing a Dominican Republic World Baseball Classic shirt.

But he never gives less than all of his attention to anyone in line. He seems to understand that what might be one handshake in a million to him is the greatest grasp of someone else’s life. That a flip flop he forgot he signed 12 years ago becomes a prized possession. That even in retirement, he represents all of baseball and all of Boston to the people who love him.

Aside from playing baseball, this — being something bigger than himself, the beating heart inside the memory of a spectacular era — seems to be what Ortiz was born to do.

With a half hour left, one of the Barnes & Noble employees comes over to him.

“Do you want to stand up and stretch?" she asks. Ortiz looks at the line of people in front of him, each one clutching the picture of his face that graces the cover of Papi.

“No,” he says, reaching for the next book and readying his pen. “I’m good.”

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