𝐑 𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄?¹ - juan soto

12.

the morning after publishing the op-ed, lyra woke up to her phone buzzing incessantly. her heart sank, a hand fumbling across the nightstand until she found it. the screen was lit up with notifications—texts, emails, and what seemed like an unending stream of twitter mentions.

her stomach churned. she had prepared herself for the worst—angry readers, accusations of bias, and maybe even professional fallout. taking a deep breath, she unlocked her phone, bracing for the storm of scathing insults and questions regarding her credibility.

but the storm wasn't what she expected.

the first text was from her editor:

Lyra, we need to talk. This piece is making waves. Call me.

next, a tweet from a prominent sports journalist:

"Lyra LaRosa's op-ed is a game-changer. This is the kind of journalism we need in sports. Bravo."

she scrolled further, finding a clip of prominent podcaster talking about her. she swallowed as she clicked it, expecting harsh criticism.

"let me just say—this girl has got some serious balls. it's hard for people in our field to admit we were wrong, and it's even made me rethink some of my own commentary."

her heart raced as she scrolled. the article wasn't just being read—it was being felt. people were talking about it, sharing it, and, most importantly, understanding it.

but with every positive comment, a shadow of doubt lingered. had she crossed a line? had she compromised her journalistic integrity by writing something so personal?

lyra set the phone down and buried her face in her hands. she had taken a risk, and while the initial reaction seemed positive, the consequences—good or bad—were still unfolding.

lyra nervously pulled up her editor's contact. she knew she had done the right thing, but this man was unpredictable—would he call her soft? he approved the article, but lyra was sure he would find something to criticize, something to blame her for. just as her thoughts reached their peak in self doubt and fear, he picked up.

she swallowed as she put the phone on speaker.

"larosa?" his voice was rough as ever.

"hello, sir." she responded shortly, her throat tight.

"the piece is everywhere," he said. "you're trending all over social media."

the conversation died for just a moment as lyra found the appropriate words. "i know it's a little different from what we usually publish, sir, but—"

he interrupted her, "different?" there was an unfamiliar brightness in his tone, "lyra, this isn't just a good piece, it's a great one. you didn't just write about soto—you broke down an even bigger issue. and people are listening."

she blinked, caught off guard, "you're... okay with this?"

and strangely, the monotone and sharp tongued man let out a warm, loud laugh that rang through the phone. "okay with it? i thought calling juan soto 'baseball's biggest brat' would be your career defining work, but somehow you've got it beat." he continued, "i couldn't be more proud."

lyra ended the call with a mix of relief and disbelief. her editor's praise was unexpected, but it felt good. better than when he called her soto exposé gold, or better than when the sports community had praised her for dragging him. this was different. this mattered.

✎ 𓂃

that evening, lyra found herself back at yankees stadium for a post-game press event. the team had just pulled off a decisive win, and the locker room buzzed with energy. she lingered near the edge of the room, observing the players as they celebrated.

her eyes inevitably found juan. he was across the room, laughing with a few teammates, but his gaze flicked toward her almost instinctively. when their eyes met, the noise around them seemed to fade.

he excused himself and made his way over, his usual swagger tempered by something softer. when he stopped in front of her, he didn't say anything at first, just looked at her with an expression she couldn't quite place.

"hey," he said finally, his voice low.

"hey," she replied, feeling oddly self-conscious.

juan glanced around the room before leaning in slightly. "i read it."

lyra's breath hitched. "oh."

he smirked, though it didn't reach his eyes. "you didn't tell me you were writing that."

"i wasn't sure how you'd feel about it," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

juan nodded, his expression unreadable. then, to her surprise, he stepped closer. "thank you," he said, his voice rough with emotion. "you didn't have to do that, but you did. and it means more than i can say."

lyra blinked, her chest tightening. "i just told the truth. that's all."

"no," he said firmly, shaking his head. "you did more than that. you stood up for me when no one else would. you made people see me—not the image, not the headlines—me."

his hand brushed hers, and she let him take it. the moment felt heavier than any of their previous encounters, but in a way that grounded her.

"i just hope it helps," she said softly.

juan smiled then, a real one that reached his eyes. "it already has."

for a moment, they just stood there, the chaos of the locker room fading into the background. then, as if remembering where they were, juan smirked. "but don't think this means you get to go easy on me in interviews. i know how you operate."

lyra laughed, the tension breaking like a wave. "oh, don't worry, soto. i'll still make you sweat."

as he walked off, lyra couldn't shake the feeling of warmth. she stared at him with a kind of adoration that felt indescribable. he was brash, headstrong, the representative of the new generation of baseball. but none of that was on her mind.

he was sharp witted, with an undeniable charm that pulled her in from the start. he carried the weight of his people on his shoulders and never forgot about them, no matter how far he's come. they had butt heads so many times, but after every fight, every fallout, every mean spirited and petty word, he had slowly broken down a layer of her walls.

and as she watched him now, she realized that maybe, just maybe, her feelings were something more than physical attraction or pent up tension. maybe she wanted something more than sneaking around.