The Mute Reporter

6- Six Years Earlier

Samuel Winters

Thankfully security gave me no issues going into the event. I had a lanyard around my neck with a press pass.

I seemed very official.

I felt far from that.

My spot in the press conference room wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. I had my recorder on me to catch anything I could possibly miss.

I know I could always look up clips online, but a recorder just is always something I can rely on and it won't be edited.

I see a person standing next to the stage, and I assume that's the translator. I sign a hello, and they spot me instantly, signing a hello back.

Before I take my seat, I make sure to let them know that I can hear, but I'm just mute, so if I am
Somehow able to get a question in they would need to translate for me.

The interpreter just nods in understanding, and I go and find my seat, patiently waiting for this event to start.

I still have scrapes on my hands, and my knees still give a slight sting when the fabric of my pants rubs them the wrong way. Celia did her best to cover the bruise on my face, but did warn me it could have a chance of showing under stage lights because they were different then normal.

After waiting a while, eventually everyone stood up, pictures flashing immediately and reporters asking many questions all at once as Jensen and his team walked in.

Thankfully Jensen didn't look as silly. But he was still sporting Denver gear. It was just a black shirt this time with their green logo on the front and some black jeans.

His dark hair was trimmed and styled neatly on his head, and he didn't look high or drunk or whatever he was doing like last night.

Jensen's coaches came out and settled people down, reporters going silent, but the cameras still occasionally flashing.

He had a few microphones in front of him, but it's not exaggerated as it is in movies. He has four, not eight or ten.

"Thank you all for coming today." Jensen says, and reporters immediately jot down what he says.

Damn, it's just him introducing himself.

I'll probably write it down later though.

His eyes scan the crowd, and thankfully he doesn't see me. Too bad I'm going to make myself noticed.

"We're doing something a little different with Jensen. We're going to allow a reporter that's in this room so exclusive one on one interviews with him as the season progresses. It's just to better connect our fans with our players." The head coach lets us know right away, and immediately I feel the atmosphere in the room change.

Reporters glance at one another, already dying to get the spot with him.

Me? I just wanted to get through today. Nothing else. Just this was overwhelming.

Someone's shoulder grazes mine, and I jerk away, hating the feeling of being touched.

I probably looked mean, but I'm past the point of caring about that.

The interview goes on, different reporters asking different questions about how Jensen feels participating in the upcoming MLB season.

I write every question and every answer down though, the palms of my hands hurting with each stoke I make with the pen.

"Another question." Jensen leans into the mic, and I raise my hand for the first time, along with a few others.

He notices me though. His dark eyes lock with my blue ones, and I do my best not to feel the chill running through my bloodstream at that.