A Shot at Love

Live the Dash

I blink rapidly, trying to get my bearings as test flashes from cameras explode around the room. The energy is charged, but Noah remains completely unfazed—slipping seamlessly into CEO mode. Without hesitation, he drops my plate onto a nearby table and strides toward a polished group of media professionals, exuding the kind of effortless confidence that turns heads.

The group is a well-oiled machine—a videographer, a photographer, a social media team, and a stunning blonde reporter I instantly recognize. She's been all over my TV for years. Polished and poised, she looks every bit the part—pageant-worthy waves, magnetic energy, and an outfit that screams both authority and graceful glamor.

The group's faces light up the moment Noah greets them. With a smooth motion, he unbuttons his suit jacket and turns back toward me.

"Team, this is Kingston Hart, our sportswriter covering tonight's game. She's the one behind the Shohei playlist that went viral, so stick close—he knows her."

My stomach twists at the unexpected attention, nerves swirling deep in my core. But I shove them down and flash my best confident smile. "Hi, everyone! It's so nice to meet you."

The crew greets me warmly, all smiles and easy camaraderie. Before I can fully take it in, the sports reporter hurries over, and I do a double take—she's pregnant, maybe six months along. But if anything, the baby bump does nothing to slow her down. She radiates excitement, her energy infectious.

"Hi, Kingston! I've been following your work and love what you're doing. Let's team up tonight—I'm Charlie."

I barely have time to process my surprise before she extends a hand, and as soon as we shake, an unexpected calm settles over me. I've got this.

"Thank you. Girl, I know who you are—I've been watching you for years! You've been absolutely killing this space," I say, giving her a grin before motioning toward her belly. "And congratulations! How far along are you?"

"Almost seven months!" Charlie beams, rubbing her bump excitedly. "I can't wait to meet her—I'm counting down the days."

"A girl! Oh, how precious. Well, you are glowing." I reply just as someone hands me a laptop.

Before I can say more, a deep, husky voice cuts in. "Hey, Kingston, I'm Jake." I turn to find a man in his thirties—worn jeans, a black graphic tee, and sneakers that have seen their fair share of stadiums. A camera rests on his shoulder, his stance all business, but his easy confidence tells me he's a pro. "Kingston, you can use that laptop tonight and return it to Sports Digest in LA. You ladies ready to head down?"

"Let's do it!" I say with a smile, gripping the laptop before instinctively glancing back at Noah.

For a second, the room slows, the high-energy buzz of production fading. His gaze softens as he catches my eyes, and then—quick as ever—he shoots me a wink.

My pulse kicks up, heat rising in my chest, but I don't have time to linger on it. Charlie and Jake are already leading the charge, and with adrenaline buzzing through me, I follow them and the rest of the team out of the press room.

We settle into the press box to the right of the Yankees' dugout, and the stadium buzzes with an electric, almost unbearable intensity. Every seat is filled, a sea of jerseys and flashing lights.

I keep my hands poised over my laptop, fingers ready, but my pulse pounds with every pitch. The Yankees explode out of the gate, their bats catching fire early, launching them to a commanding 5–0 lead. The crowd is deafening—roars of triumph from Yankees fans clashing with tense silence from the Dodgers' faithful. It feels like New York is on the verge of forcing a Game 6.