𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 | 𝐛. 𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐳

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲 - 𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 | 𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐧

      AARON JUDGE WALKS AWAY FROM ME, towards the stairs that lead to the main hall. He nods to me before facing the stairs and climbing them.
"No man looks at a woman the way Benny looks at you and says 'she's just a friend'. The way he looks at you... I haven't seen someone look at another person in that way in a long time. Don't lose him." He said.
"Lennon!" Benny asks, approaching me, an eyebrow raised.
I jump at the sound of his voice, spinning around to face him. Goosebumps travel up my skin and I'm suddenly freezing, even in the summer heat. His hand presses to my upper arm providing some heat to ease the chilled sensation that's taken over my body.
"Woah, Len, are you alright? You look terrified." He says, his eyes trailing to the dugout stairs. "Did Judge say something to you?"
I shake my head, swallowing harshly. Benny's eyes fill with concern and I exhale sharply.
"Is this a decision you made together or is it a decision one of you made and the other just followed?" He asked.
      "I'm fine, Benny. I've gotta go talk to Smalls." I say, walking towards the dugout.
      He stands in the grass, dumbfounded as I approach the dugout. I grab the clipboard and pass Santana's cubby without stealing a piece of gum.
      "Lennon, you want a piece of gum?" Santana asks, offering a piece from his tub.
      I shake my head, brushing him off of. I clutch the clipboard tightly, holding it to my chest.
      "No thanks, Santana, I'm good." I say quietly, walking away from him.
      My sneakers make a rough scraping noise as I walk on the orange tinted dirt. I walk towards the stairs, climbing them. I walk into the hall and pass people in the halls. I twist my shoulders to avoid people as I duck between groups observing the hall of fame players, the food court, the bar, etc. I use my badge and step into the elevator. My awkward relationship with Benny is my own fault. I look at Benny with sad, empty promises everyday. Aaron was right—Benny looks at me with hopeful glances, but deep inside, his hopes are crushed because of what I said in the Hospital. Benny didn't get a say in our relationship—he's just following my rules. When I come to, I realize that I mindlessly wandered off the elevator to Smalls' office. I stand in the doorway, holding the clipboard numbly. My cheeks are wet with tears and Smalls spins around in his chair.
      "Lennon, What happened? Are you okay?" He asks, an eyebrow raised.
      I walk into his office slowly, the clipboard slipping out of my hand, hitting the floor beside my feet. I crouch down, grabbing for the clipboard. Tears drip off of my cheeks down onto my chin, dripping down my neck. Smalls crouches before me, a hand on my shoulder.
      "Lennon," He says softly, furrowing his brows gently. "Talk to me."
      A sob escapes my lips and I cover my face with my hands. He wraps his arms around me, hugging me, allowing the sobs to escape. I bury my face into his shoulder, a sob passing my lips, muffled by the fabric of his shirt and his shoulder.
      "I messed it all up, Smalls," I say quietly. "Everything, I messed it all up. My job, my past, my future. Everything."
      "I'm sure you didn't mess everything up. You have a ton of people here who love you, and you have even more friends back in New York. It's all gonna be okay." He says.
      I sit up, exhaling sharply, a trembling inhale following.
      "Easy for you to say, you didn't steal confidential property." I say. "What if the Yankees decide to sue?"
      Smalls furrows his brows and shakes his head, a small smile forming on his lips.
      "Did you not hear? You and I got a letter from the Yankees last week." He says.
      He stands and approaches his desk, looking through his miniature filing cabinet. He grabs it, approaching me. He crouches, handing the letter to me. I unfold the paper, exhaling.
      "Scott Smalls and Lennon Davis, we sincerely apologize for the angry presentation we showed last week. Our frustration with personal issues got the better of us, leaving us with nothing other than anger for you, our deepest concern right now. We sincerely apologize for the accusations of stealing confidential Yankee information and hope that one day, if the trade truly does happen, we can look back at this day as a fluke in our judgement. Signed, Andrew Green, Will Allen, and the rest of The Yankees' representative team."
      I lift my head, looking up at him with wide eyes. A slight warmth fills my body, reading the cool chill.
      "They aren't suing me?" I ask, an eyebrow raised at him.
      He shakes his head, smiling. He reaches down and pulls me up off of the ground.
      "No, they aren't. Somewhere along the way, you no longer were The Dodgers' on-field-reporter, and instead their strategic author and colleague. And somewhere along the way, I was no longer The Dodgers' gameplay announcer and instead, the therapist for you, Benny, Cal, and a few others. Not that I mind, but a lot has happened in these past two months." He says. "Now let's get to work on this Roster."

* * * * *

      I stand at the dugout stairs beside Cal, watching Benny smile and shake hands with a few of the Padres' players.
      "You look a little happier than you did earlier. Something good happen?" Judge says, approaching me.
      "Is this just gonna be a recurring thing with you? Sneaking up on me?" I ask, an eyebrow raised.
       He smiles and watches where my eyes land, towards Benny.
      "Something happen with Benny?" He asks, an eyebrow raised, a smirk on his face.
      I roll my eyes and shake my hand, shoving the clipboard into his hand.
      "Calm yourself," I say, walking towards Benny and the Padres.
      "What am I supposed to do with this?" Aaron asks, shouting from the dugout.
      I shrug, returning to my walk towards Benny. I smile, waving goodbye to the Padres as they walk away.
      "I'm sorry for how I treated you earlier today. And for how I treated you at the hospital. It was rude. I shouldn't have acted that way." I say.
      Benny smiles, shaking his head. He shrugs and leans closer to me.
      "Let's just forget about it, alright?" He asks, kissing my cheek quickly. "Happy twenty-fifth birthday, Lennon."
      He remembered my Birthday.