The Mute Reporter

10- Six Years Earlier

Samuel Winters

The at home interview went okay, I just asked him questions on the list Celia gave me that time.

About another two weeks passed before I was to shadow him on todays practice. And every practice to come after this.

I was bored honestly. I was never much into sports. So sitting on a bench watching him hit a ball over and over into a freakishly fake green field was nothing too exciting.

How can people find this fun?

Like who picks a career from this?

The baseball field dirt wasn't even raked clean. There was no white painted lines, it was all messy from the team running laps.

Jensen hits a ball that goes over the back fence, and a few of his teammates clap. His coach shouts a praise.

"Nice hit! Do that in our first game." His coach turns off the machine that was spitting the white baseballs at him, and Jensen takes off his helmet, giving a thumbs up and leaving the batting cage.

My eyes involuntarily travel to his chest, and the necklace I've peeled at a few times is out on display. It's just a single diamond.

He goes into the dugout and sets down a few of his things, before turning over to look at me. His eyes catch where I'm looking, and he tucks the chain back under his shirt.

"Enjoying the view?"

I scrunch up my nose in distaste. As if I would ever be attracted to him.

Jensen laughs loudly, and takes a seat next to me. I scoot a few inches away, deciding he's too close. Every time he would breathe would cause him to touch me.

His laugh dies down at the action, but he doesn't mention it.

"So, have any questions so far?" He asks, and I hand him my notepad full of questions I had written down for him.

His interpreter, named Kelsie, couldn't make it today. She's trying to teach him asl, and he's picking up quickly. But I still have to write down questions for him at the moment.

The thought of him learning ASL was kind of sweet, but so far he's just taught his teammates how to swear with their hands.

His teammates don't talk to me much, thank god. Only to tell me to move if I'm blocking something really. Maybe a hello in passing. I'm sure they'll talk to me the more I'm around them, which is inevitable.

"These are boring." Jensen says, passing my list of questions back to me.

I raise my brow in confusion, and sign a simple word to him.

'Why?'

"These are all questions about baseball." He says, pointing at the list.

I just roll my eyes.

"I chose you because you ask me dumb questions. I won't answer your questions unless they're dumb."

Dumb? I wrote that down on a blank page.

"Like what I want my super power to be if I had one?"

Icebreakers. I wrote down again.

"Sure, whatever. Your job is to connect me to my fans on a personal level. Not just things related to baseball. So ask me ice breakers."

Answer these questions first. I wrote down.

"How about I also ask you questions? I don't think it's fair that you get to know everything about me and I don't get to know anything about you."

I shrug. I guess that was fair on his end.

"Why do you always wear sunglasses?" He asks.

Oh, so I guess we're starting now.

As he unstraps his batting gloves, I wrote down my answer.

My eyes are very light sensitive.

Jensen looks at my sunglasses and frowns. "Those sunglasses can't be that good."

I just huff and shake my head. They aren't, but I manage. I don't even need them to see, they're just tinted and I don't have to take them off whenever I walk into a building.

I point to one of the questions I wrote down, and he shakes his head.

"Ice breakers, remember?"

I give him a glare before thinking of something and writing it down.

What is your favorite ocean animal?

I show him the question, and after he reads it, he gives me a big smile. A fake one. A smile he would give fans.

"Orcas. They're pretty badass."

I just breathe out another silent huff, and wrote down his answer and reasoning. If you can even consider thinking that an animal being badass is good enough reason to like them.

Jensen stands up and puts his batting gloves away, and grabs his baseball hat.

He puts on the green cap, pushing his damp hair back before doing so.

His eyes meet mine again, and he gives me a wink. Before I can flip him off, he grabs his glove, and runs out of the dugout into the field.

Annoyed by his presence even though we spent less than two minutes of 'talking' together, I grab my phone and text Celia to rant.

Me: can we trade stories please? Jensen is an asshole and Becks only has high praise from you

I get a response immediately.

Celia: nope! Becks story is mine. Back off

At the end of her message were two emojis of the fencing guy, and I just silently laugh, the only visible sign of me laughing were my shoulders shaking up and down.

Me: pleaaaaseeee I just want to see you yell at Jensen again. That was so satisfying when you did it at the restaurant a few weeks ago

Celia: that's why you're perfect for the job! Because you can't tell at him

Me: hey! Only I'm allowed to make jokes about my trauma

Celia: baseball season isn't for long anyways!

Me: girl it's six months long

Celia: hah...just have fun! You two will get along in no time! Ask him to have lunch with you or something

Me: I'd rather shoot myself in the foot

Celia: don't do that. Then I'd have to shoot myself in the foot in order to be with you through everything

Me: not sure if I should be thankful for that, or just tell you that you're a clingy, overprotective older sister

Celia: both

Me: whatever. I have to get back to watching Jensen catch balls or whatever

Celia: that's what he said

Me: I hate you

Celia: you make me watch the office too much

Me: you watch it on your own accord. But Fr I have to go now, I'll text you when I'm done

I shut off my phone, looking back out into the field.

Jensen tosses a white baseball back and forth with another guy. It's clear they're joking around with whatever they're saying as they do so.

I sigh, and turn off my recorder.