Try.

Chapter 25: Splinters in My Knuckles

*if i'm wrong in any way about how the World Series works, pls be nice and help me fix any mistakes, I'm not a huge baseball person so if something is off — pls tell me niCELy ok thank u*

sorry this took foREVER but it's Christmas break so i can finally update more w/out the stress of college breathing down my neck
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"Plans for the weekend, Viv?" Leigh-Anne asked once we got back from lunch. I shrugged as I sat down and crossed my legs.

"Well, Harry invited me to this party, or whatever. His entire team is going to be there and it's like a pre-World Series celebration." I said.

"Right," Louis said. "How many games do they have left now? They've played two, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah, it's best of seven, so they won the last two and they at least need four wins to claim it all."

"This is exciting." Leigh-Anne smiled. "This is Harry's first actual shot at the World Series, isn't it?"

"Yeah," I nodded, feeling so proud of him. This past month has been a rollercoaster of preparation. Harry's been training with the Jaguars day in and day out, and I was so excited to see him succeed. "He's been a nervous wreck lately, but his averages have really improved since the beginning of the season."

"So, when he wins, are you guys going to do something fun?" Louis asked with a smile as he leaned his chin into his hands.

I shrugged. "I don't know, we haven't really talked that far into the future."

"And you're getting married when?" He asked, and I threw a wad of scratch paper at him.

"We aren't getting married, Lou." I said. "And besides, I can't see that far into the future, remember?"

"Honestly," Leigh-Anne piped up. "I can see you and Harry getting married far more than I saw you and Tanner tying the knot."

I groaned, not really wanting to talk about Tanner anymore. I had officially moved out, given up my key, and I was fully living with Harry. Memories of Tanner and our life together felt so distant now, and I wanted to keep it in the past where it belongs.

At the end of the day, I went home and immediately plopped down on the couch. I could smell Martha cooking something amazing in the kitchen, and the table was being set by Harry's butler, whom I've now learned his name is Wilson. I didn't see him much, mostly because I felt awkward asking Harry's employee's to do things for me since I've gone most of my life being able to do everything myself. He had some maids that would stop by every so often to clean as well. I spent a lot of time in the bedroom and out of the way, often avoiding his staff.

I flipped on the television, seeing the news and the anchors were talking about the most anticipated game of the year, the Jaguars against the Arizona Rockets. Glancing at the clock, I figured Harry would be home in less than an hour, but with the game coming up, it wouldn't surprise me if he stayed at practice a little longer.

I very much wanted to call Harry's coach and talk about the spokesperson position. It would truly be better than anything I could've ever wanted in my career as a reporter. I'd be able to work directly with the team and I would have all the answers up front, no hassling players and coaches for quotes or editing material day in and day out; I'd have everything right in front of me and I would be a fool to say no.

But I'd also be a fool to leave ASM when I've just started climbing the promotional ladder. I had my promotion in the palm of my hands at this point, and once Chelsea officially moved me out of the editorial department and upstairs into the journalism section, I'd have everything I always wanted.