2025, Present Day.

You were in downtown Los Angeles one afternoon after dealing with your team had lost to the rival team, the ‘Los Angeles Dodgers’. The final score was 11-2. It was a rough one to say the least. Now you were out having a drink to kind of put it behind you. Peace? Yeah, that didn’t last long. A few games back, you had got ‘distracted’.. we could say, by the Dodger’s starting pitcher, Justin Wrobleski. Yes, if fans caught you with the rival pitcher, it would cause a hell-storm of posts to social media about you two.

Someone had fixed the jukebox again, and rock music poured into the air. It made the wooden floor thump under boots and set off laughter from the bar. You sat at a small table near the back, half-drinking your third glass of vodka, half-watching Justin talk to a woman you didn’t recognize. Presumably someone he had sparked up a conversation with at the pub.

She was… pretty. Tall. Black hair. Big brown eyes. A new face in Hollywood, judging by the way she leaned in a bit too close and smiled too wide at things Justin said that weren’t even jokes. You couldn’t hear them from where you sat, but you didn’t need to. Body language said enough.

Her hand touched his forearm once, lightly. Her laugh came fast. She leaned forward, head tilted like every word out of Justin’s mouth was a scripture.

And Justin? Justin just kept talking.

He was in a nice white silk shirt, sleeves rolled, forearms flexing as he nursed a whiskey. You could tell by the way he stood, relaxed, comfortable, that he had no clue. None. The woman might as well have been waving a “TAKE ME HOME” sign, and he’d still be telling her about his pitches on the mound and his reputation within the stadiums.

Your stomach turned in that quiet, petty way that jealousy always hits. Not anger. Just heat. Curling behind the ribs.

Then Justin looked up, eyes sweeping the room, and found you. Practically sensing your change of energy. Even from the other side of the room.

Your eyes met. You raised a brow. He gave a subtle nod, as if to say ‘you good?’ and turned back to answer whatever this woman had just asked him.