^That picture of H is what I imagine him in this book as... hot asf but a lil shy at first. Enjoy!
Q: would u rather have a writer update small but more frequent or take a while but a longer update?
Word count : 1309
Harry
(Same day)
Alright, you can do this. I just need to walk up to the plate and throw like I have thrown my whole life. It's easy H, I got this.
Who am I kidding ? I'm petrified. It's only the MLB, only the greatest league for baseball and I'm playing for the 2017 World Series champions.
Oh no, I'm freaking out again.
In and out Harry.
In and out. Haha that's what she said.
Oh my god I'm seriously mental.
"Slow down there, thirteen." Coach advises and I turn to look at him, he raises his eyebrows with a smirk and fixes his eyes on the Baseball gripped in my left hand, I was constantly twirling it around my hand quickly. I seize my actions, clear my throat and nod my head at him. He only smirks in return.
"I thought I overheard a certain British boy claim he doesn't get nerves." He questions playfully.
"I don't, sir. No, I'm fine. Just excited?"
He raised his eye brows.
"Alright you caught me, I'm sweating more than a hooker at church." I sit on the bench, bouncing my knee, while coach is howling with laughter from my joke. I'm a joke king. Even when I'm practically shitting my pants.
"Calm down, just like practice alright?" His palm closed around my shoulder, lightly moving it in a relaxing manner.
"It's not like the fans are only here to see you play for the first time and will be scrutinizing your every move..." I widen my eyes in fear and my mouth drops open,
"Relax Styles! I'm kidding boy, now get out there, it's time." He continues to chuckle while I fumble putting on my glove and trip over my feet up the stairs out of the dugout.
I quickly text my mum a picture of me faking a smile holding the game ball with the caption 'I love you. You not the baseball.' With the winking emoji.
Here goes nothing.
Stare at your feet, stare at your feet. Don't make any unwanted eye-contact Harry, gosh I hope nobody makes fun of my hair, I should cut it.
Everyone probably thinks I'm I girl, not that there is anything wrong with women. I love women.
I'm just - I'm nervous. Is it too late to get a plane ticket back to London ?
I heave a big breath through my nostrils and chew my gum, counting how many chews so I don't puke from nerves.
I step on the mound the same time the first batter gets on home plate. Why is he looking at me like that? I didn't do anything to him! His eyebrows are furrowed at me and he rolls his eyes. My jaw drops in astonishment, I didn't know the other team were assholes. I'm gonna strike this boy out.
I step together, wobbling the slightest from anticipation and the whole arena becomes silent. I raise my left leg and swing my arm violently for a fast ball. The familiar sound of the ball hitting a glove meets my ears milliseconds before the fans cheer and I smirk, the batter has wide eyes.
Yea boy, I can pitch you bitch.
I strike out all three batters with a tattooed smirk on my face the whole time, all my nerves dissipated and came back in confidence. This is the sport that I love, what I'm meant to do.
After ripping off my my hat and replacing it with a helmet, I wrap my leather-enclosed hands around my wooden bat. Bregman was up first, making it onto second with ease. He is such a good player, teammate, and lad all around. He knows how to focus which in turn causes a good game, but he also knows how to make me laugh till beer shoots out of my nose.
Long story.
Before I know it, my long legs are walking me up to home plate and I release a loud sigh to help with my nerves. I tap both my cleats with my wooden bat that is engraved with 'HS13' at the top, and then raise it above my head getting ready to hit.
Holy heck this guy pitches fast .. I just stayed still because I could tell the ball was too low, so it was a ball and zero strikes, but watching it buzz by me was a new feeling. I'm kinda scared but I have to grow some balls and face this guy.
I can do it,
I can do it.
He pitches.
I can't do it.
Oh shit ! I just missed a perfectly good ball, damnit.
Now I have a strike and a ball..
He gets ready to pitch again and I gulp.
Just watch the ball, Harry.
He raises his knee, kickstarting his pitch and I relax, keeping my eye on the ball when I hear a faint 'Bring him home!' In the sea of screams. The familiar crack of the ball sounds through the arena and I sprint like never before, taking peeks up toward the flying ball, and facing first base. When I see the ball is no longer inside the field, but in the stands of screaming fans, I jog around all the bases with a giddy smile painted on my face with my fingers lightly twitching from excitement watching the ball buzz through the air into the screeching stands.
After rounding third heading to Home-plate I slow down my jog and my eyes fall upon a girl in the crowd in the first couple rows. She was cheering with a beautiful smile on her face, her eyes slightly widening when she noticed my gaze was locked on her. Her and her apparent friend nudge each other while watching me gaze at the brunette. Should I wave? No that's too much. I'll just smile... no I can't I'm already smiling, fuck.
I nodded my head at the beauty, like an idiot. She probably thinks I'm a stupid, stuck up, fuckboy now... great.
Wow, she was beautiful, but it's time to get my head back into the game. Correa knocks off my helmet and the rest of the boys ruffle my hair, yelling with excitement.
"Let's go, boys!" Altuve yells with his accent lingering, and claps my back. Step by step I gradually make my way back to the dugout with my coach laughing at my shocked and happy expression.
"Well done, 13. Well done."
"Thank you Coach, for everything."
"Glad to have you on the team."
"Glad to be here."
Eight innings later and we are walking off the field, lugging bags, getting ready to head home. Before I exit the stadium, I sneak a peek behind my shoulder to find the beautiful brunette in the crowd. I watch her as she fixes her cap a top head with concentration, a cute small frown etched on her face as she nods her head every now and then to her friend beside her.
I turn back around and walk with Springer to the back room.
The girl is so pretty but with the seats right behind home-plate, I hope she isn't stuck up or using her dad's money to her advantage. The last thing I want is a girl hooked to my hip with jewels hanging around your neck shining my newly found wealth.
Yeah... definitely not my goal here. If she is here tomorrow, I'll talk to her after the game, but if she isn't then I'm done with her. No need to get caught up over a pretty face.
But... what a pretty face...
