Chapter 5 #2
No, definitely not. I need to act professional but ultimately keep it short and sweet.
If we start a conversation, who knows what Daniel will say.
I need to corner him sometime later today, so we can privately agree to never mention our past. When he introduces himself, I’ll do the same and then say, “I’m a big fan.
” And then I’ll smile. Short and sweet. That’s a polite response.
A true one. It makes me the bigger person and reveals nothing to my teammates, who just think Daniel is my celebrity crush.
Just as my pulse begins to lower in response to my internal planning, I hear Allyson giggling. “Do you think he’ll say, ‘It’s Daniel Chan and this is Our World through Sports.’ That would be so hot.”
Olabisi rolls her eyes. “Why on earth would he say that?”
Jadea leans over from where she’s seated on the bench, retying her shoe. “Allyson, you don’t even like men.”
Allyson looks at Jadea with bewilderment. “So?”
I’m still laughing when he walks in. Surprisingly, he’s not wearing a suit.
Instead, he dressed more casually, his lean, muscled body clad in a Gotham FC jersey and black sweats.
His black hair is curling a bit on top, and when he smiles, it lifts up crookedly.
He’s still wearing the black framed glasses I supposedly (definitely) waxed poetic about to Jadea.
He looks better than I remember him. Better than he has on my TV screen.
My breath stutters a bit in my chest, and I cover it with a cough.
Jadea shoots me a smug look that I return with venom.
Daniel is walking with a woman in her forties carrying a clipboard. She must be Iris Langley. They pan to her sometimes on his show. She was the one who saw potential in his YouTube channel three years ago and pitched it to HBO. At least, that’s what it says on his Wikipedia page.
Daniel stops a few paces away from us to introduce himself to Coach. They shake hands, and Iris begins animatedly talking to Coach Rembert and pointing to her clipboard. For a second, they look like exact mirrors of each other. Two driven women with big goals in mind and a protective energy.
Though we’re all straining to hear what they’re saying, we act like we’re not by straightening our things or whispering to each other.
Lynn says something in my ear, and I can’t hear it over my elevated pulse.
It must be the stress of the week that’s making my body go haywire.
It can’t possibly be seeing Daniel. I’m over him. Fully.
Finally, Iris, Daniel, and Coach Rembert finish their little conference. Coach turns our way, immediately keying in on our attempts at listening. She waves her hand at us, and we all scramble to create a semi-organized line so we can introduce ourselves.
Daniel smiles easily as he approaches. Up close, I can see the small mole on his square jaw and the faint scar above his right eye.
I remember the stitches he had there from where the car smashed his glasses into his face.
My hand twitches unconsciously as though to touch it.
“Sorry for the formality, everyone. I know some of you…” his eyes trace over us, and I swear they linger on me for a moment, “…from watching your games, but I’m a New York Liberty fan first, so introductions seemed appropriate.
” That earns him a few chuckles and an eye roll from Olabisi.
He launches in with, “My name is Daniel Chan, and I’m here to put a voice to this team.
I know you’ve recently been grappling with some negative media attention and want to use this piece to combat that.
While I think that is an admirable goal, I also want to show people what the WNBA can do.
I want them to see your talent, your grit, and the utter lack of equality you deal with on a daily basis. ”
I think my teammates’ metaphorical jaws drop.
He says it like it’s obvious. He doesn’t equivocate or quibble with the details.
He just says we aren’t treated equally to men in this sport.
A fact many men refuse to face. “If you’ve seen my show, you know I take this seriously.
Sports can be fun and exciting, but they have an impact.
I don’t intend for this to be a puff piece.
This will be real. Real interviews. Real practice clips.
My show and this story are very important to me, just as I assume it’s very important to all of you. Right?”
He looks at each of us in turn, and I give a firm nod.
No matter our history, on this, Daniel and I agree.
Sports are a facet of society, and unfortunately, they are not equitable.
He’s trying to create change with his show, and I have to respect him for that.
Jadea speaks up for us. “Absolutely. We’re ready. ”
The business-like expression melts off his face. He smiles again, and I feel a little starstruck. A lot starstruck. Allyson lets loose a nervous giggle beside me. Daniel steps forward and offers a hand to Jadea. “Jadea Jones, right? An honor.”
She winks. “Me too, Chan.”
He chuckles a little. “I saw you play a bit at Stanford. You and Annie.” I’m basically hiding behind Allyson at the end, but even I hear the warmth when he says my name. What does it mean? Does he feel guilty for the abrupt ending to our relationship? Is he just trying to move on and be polite?
He shakes everyone’s hand as he walks down the line, sincerely responding with a “nice to meet you” or “it’s an honor”.
He sounds professional, but kind. As he gets closer, I feel a little relieved.
I can manage a conversation with the tone he’s setting.
He recognizes Lynn, too, as she’s a veteran of the league, but otherwise, he practices saying everyone’s names, repeating them each time.
When he steps up to me, I open my mouth, ready to repeat the script I created in my head.
Ready to pretend. Instead, Daniel’s warm, familiar hand engulfs mine.
I look at him, startled at the intimate contact.
We’re basically eye-to-eye, both of us being six feet tall.
“Annie Larger.” I must look like a deer in headlights.
What will he say? Will he spill our secret history?
Will he say the reason he left me? Definitely not that last one.
His eyes are sparkling dangerously, long lashes surrounding his dark gaze. “I’m a big fan.”
He’s trying to shake my hand, but I’m of no help. He said he was a big fan. Of me. His ex.
He stole my line.
Someone starts snickering, probably Olabisi or Jadea, and I realize I’m still holding his hand. I haven’t said anything in response either, totally frozen. How long have we been standing this way?
He’s leaning in a bit towards me, as though waiting for a response.
I drop his hand quickly, taking a half step back.
My heartbeat is too loud in my ears, but I manage a shaky smile.
“Thank you. It’s so nice to meet you.” I wonder if he hears the spark of defiance in my voice, the warning.
For a brief moment, I think I see disappointment flash across his face, but it’s gone so quickly I blame my paranoid brain.
He thanks all of us, smiling again, and gestures to Iris.
Our line relaxes, everyone sitting down or leaning against the table as we listen to her go over our schedule for the next two weeks.
I can barely hear what she’s saying as I try desperately not to look at Daniel.
He stands a few paces away, next to Iris.
Jadea covertly comes to stand by me, nudging me with her elbow.
I raise a brow in question.
“Oh my God!” she mouths, tilting her head toward Daniel.
“I don’t know what you’re referring to,” I whisper, turning my head stubbornly.
Jadea continues to look at me as if it’s the first time she’s ever seen me. “Sure. Sure, you don’t.”
I try to focus on Iris again, but eventually I give in and peek at Daniel.
I almost fall out of my chair when I find his dark gaze already on me.
There’s one electric second where we stare at each other, and the roaring in my ears gets louder.
I find myself wishing I could go over and talk to him, hear more of his passion and intensity, watch that mole on his chin move as he smiles.
Instead, I snap my gaze away, flushed. Daniel left me.
He’s acting like his old self—kind, and hardworking, and intense—but that doesn’t mean we should fall into our old habits.
I’ll be the one who ends up hurt and alone.
From my peripheral vision, I notice Daniel’s lips settle into a firm line.
Fortunately, Jadea didn’t seem to notice our exchange.
This will be a long two weeks.