Try.

Chapter 4: I'm Selfish, I Know

harry in yellow is eXacTLy why i have an inhaler

*

Lunch with Harry was extremely out of the public eye. We snuck our way into the back of a restaurant and sat in a booth that was nearly isolated from the main area of the dining space. I felt awkward hiding like this, but he assured me that he hadn't had a problem with paparazzi whenever eating here.

"So," he said after our drinks had arrived. "You want a story, huh?"

I pursed my lips and barely made eye contact. I nodded subtly and he leaned forward.

"And what's so important about getting a story from me?"

I shrugged, twirling my straw around the ice in my glass. "You're one of the most talked-about athletes across the country, you're also one of the most reserved celebrities and no one ever wants to write articles about you because they know they can never get a direct quote."

He leaned back and cocked an eyebrow. "Maybe I like it that way."

I looked at him questionably. "Even if what they write about you isn't true?"

He shrugged. "People can believe what they want. My friends and family know what's true and that's all that matters."

I cocked my head and gazed at him. The way his tone sounded made it seem like he was trying to convince not only me, but himself that this how he liked to live.

"Aren't you worried about your reputation? If people write false stories about you, aren't you worried about how that'll affect your career?"

He frowned and looked up at me. "You seem a little more invested in my personal life than my career."

I pressed my lips together and sat back. Honestly, I felt like I was more interested in why he didn't care so much about the media and what was said about him, good or bad. He was right, I wasn't really thinking about his career and I was probably overstepping my boundaries slightly.

"Sorry," I said. "I don't mean to get too personal."

He shrugged after taking a sip of his soda. "You're not the first person, most certainly not the last."

We were silent for a moment after our food arrived, and we conversed a little more about what got him into baseball and how his career started. He talked about his tough start to get into the major leagues and how long it took for someone to sign him. He talked about his love for his team and even though he had only been a part of the Jaguars for a few years, he still couldn't imagine himself with anyone else.

"I did notice you also don't talk about relationships very often," I noted. "Like, your parents or any siblings, a girlfriend maybe --,"

"I don't talk about them because I don't want them in the spotlight." He said flatly. "I like that they stay out of the public eye and can live normal lives."

"Are they supportive of your career?" I asked hesitantly, not sure if I was overstepping my boundaries with the question.

He pressed his lips together, and I couldn't tell if he was fighting back a smile or not. "My mother is. She's always wanted the best for me and she's pushed me to be the best I can be."

"Do you get to see her often? I know you're on the road a lot."

He shrugged, slumping in his seat. "Not as much as I'd like. Which sucks because I feel like I'm unintentionally distancing myself from her."

I finished off the last of my fries at that moment, not knowing what to say next. He looked up at me with hooded eyes and seemed to sense the awkwardness of the moment.