Scene One:
Jesse Lewis, ceremonial pitch, Chiba Marines. You — the scorekeeper who accidentally caught his attention.
The cheers roared as Jesse Lewis jogged onto the field in a Chiba Marines jersey, fits his body perfectly and hugging his tall figure just right. He waved, grinned, tried to calm himself by picking up the rosin bag on the mound, then press his right hand in it, only to toss it back to the ground. This somehow invited some chuckled. Pure comedy.
A muffled snort escaped from the sidelines.
You. Sitting in the official scorer’s chair, half-hidden behind your clipboard. The stadium was like holding their breath and this small chuckle managed to escape.
Jesse’s eyes flicked your way. You quickly looked down, biting your lip, pretending to adjust something on the sheet. But it was too late. He caught it. The twitch of your lips. The small shake of your shoulders. You had laughed.
He stood on the mound, still holding the ball, suddenly hyper-aware.
Someone out here just laughed at him. And she was… cute?
He delivered the pitch — fast, straight, not ended where it should be. The crowd roared and you delivered a joke that made them laugh. He smiled, bowed, then looked for you again.
You were gone.
Later that night, your phone buzzed. Unknown number.
A message popped up:
[Unknown]:
You laughed.
I saw that.-JL 🧢
You blinked. How did he even get your number?
You:
That pitch was criminal.
The mound is now a crime scene. 😌How did you find my number?
JL:
I have my ways.Also, Sano-san is scared of me when I pout.
…Also, you’re a scorekeeper, and I have good eyes. 😊
You stared at your screen, cheeks warm.
This can’t be real.
Then he sent one more message:
JL:
Would you like to have some coffee with me? I mean, I am a bit offended, actually.You:
I won't apologize for your silly pitch.
Also, I don't like coffee 😌 Also, idols are dangerous, so I heard.
Thanks, but no thanks? I don't go out with people I don't know.
JL:
What do you mean, you don't know me? Ok, I will make a way to come again.You:
Don't bother. I don't know you. Sorry if my laughter was rude, it was just an automatic one.JL:
I know this won't be easy. Anyway, goodnight then.
You made your way to shower and sleep right after.
It was a regular Saturday game. The weather was humid, the stadium electric with noise, and you — perched in the scorekeeper’s booth — had already gone through half a bottle of water trying to focus.
You were scribbling in stats, eyes flitting between the batter and the pitcher, when—
“Hotdog stand guy said I could bribe you with some ice cream.”
You turned sharply. There he was. Jesse Lewis. In a black bucket hat, sunglasses, a baggy jersey, and that ridiculous “I swear I’m not famous” slouch. Your pen slipped. He raised both hands like a guilty child.
“Sorry, sorry—don’t arrest me. I just came to… you know, revisit the scene of my humiliation.”
You quickly glanced around.
“What are you doing here? People can’t see you—”
“I’m invisible,” he whispered dramatically, adjusting his sunglasses. “I blend in. Like air. Or mist.”
You snorted, trying not to smile.
“You're a 6'1 foreign-looking idol in a sea of baseball dads, you stick out like a sore thumb.”
“I missed you laughing at me. Thought I’d come embarrass myself again.”
That made your heart stutter. You ducked your head to pretend you were checking a scorecard. He leaned closer. Close enough that you could smell faint cologne and stadium popcorn on his breath.
“You’re blushing.”
“Am not,” you muttered, scribbling nonsense just to avoid his gaze.
A staff member walked nearby, and Jesse instantly dropped his voice, stepping back, pulling the hat lower.
“Relax. I won’t get you in trouble. I’m just… visiting. As a fan.”
He stayed near your booth the entire game. Not directly beside you, but just enough to catch your eye whenever you looked up. Once, he texted:
JL: You look intense when you work. I like that. Dangerous.
You bit your lip, trying not to grin. And then, later—after the crowd started to thin and your shift was nearly over—you got one last message.
JL: See, I came. So, coffee with me, please? Gotta go home now because I have schedule later at night.
Too much information. Seriously, who is this guy? You met him yesterday and now he is so friendly that he is a regular on your text tab. Is his life so boring that he is playing around like this?