𝐑 𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄?¹ - juan soto

7.

the chaos of the airport terminal was a cacophony of announcements, rolling luggage, and irritated passengers. lyra stood in front of gate b17, staring at the empty boarding area. the plane to seattle, with the man she was supposed to be shadowing, was already taxiing down the runway. she tightened her grip on the strap of her laptop bag and let out a frustrated sigh.

"this cannot be happening," she muttered, shaking her head. she had been delayed getting through security thanks to an overzealous tsa agent who insisted on swabbing her laptop.

out of the corner of her eye, she spotted juan soto strolling toward the gate with the same nonchalant energy he brought to the batter's box. he wore headphones slung around his neck and sunglasses perched on his head, looking completely unbothered. lyra didn't know if she was frustrated or amused by his lack of care.

"tell me that's not our plane." juan nodded toward the runway as he reached her.

lyra shot him a withering glare. "congrats, you're late too. guess it's a team effort."

juan grinned, unfazed. "relax, larosa. we'll catch the next flight. it's not the end of the world."

"oh, i'm sorry," she snapped, throwing her arms up in exasperation. "not all of us are superstars who can show up whenever they feel like it and still get away with it."

he shrugged, ignoring her sarcasm. "and not all of us stress about things we can't control."

before lyra could retort, james johnson, director of yankees pr, appeared, phone in hand and an exasperated expression on his face.

"you two," james said, pointing between them. "what happened? the team's already on their way to seattle. i told you to be here an hour ago."

lyra pointed to juan. "i was delayed because of tsa. he's just late because he can't tell time."

juan held up his hands defensively. "whoa, don't pin this on me. i'm not the one obsessively checking emails instead of watching the clock."

james groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "i don't care whose fault it is. you both missed the commercial flight. luckily, i have a solution. there's a private plane we can book last minute to get you there tonight."

lyra blinked. "wait, private? as in just... us?"

"yes, just the two of you," james said flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. "it'll be tight, but you'll make it in time for tomorrow's events. i've already cleared it with management."

juan's grin widened. "a private jet? not bad."

lyra's stomach twisted. despite their reconciliation, she didn't know if spending hours in close quarters with juan sounded like a nightmare or a journalistic dream. she folded her arms. "is there really no other option?"

james shook his head. "nope. unless you want to sit here all night waiting for a red-eye. trust me, you do not want to be on the yankees' bad side if you miss tomorrow's press conference."

juan chuckled, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "guess it's just you and me, larosa."

lyra shot him a glare. "fantastic."

james checked his phone. "the plane's already waiting at a private terminal. a car's coming to take you there. try not to kill each other before you get to seattle."

juan smirked. "no promises."

lyra sighed, muttering under her breath, "this is going to be a long night."

✎ 𓂃

"let me guess, this is my fault somehow?"

lyra settled into her cozy seat, trying to ignore him. "well, maybe you should've hustled a little more," she said coldly.