Chapter 6 #2
“We need rules,” I blurt out. Daniel nods patiently, waiting for me to gather my thoughts. “I never told Jadea about us.”
Now, it’s Daniel’s turn to be surprised. “Never?” I hear his unspoken questions. All that texting, FaceTiming, and calling she and I did during my and Daniel’s relationship, but we never talked about him? When he left me randomly, I didn’t complain to her?
I refuse to explain myself to him. Partially because I can barely understand it myself. “No, I didn’t. No one really knew except my mom. Maybe some of our old Stanford teammates who paid enough attention. That’s it. We can keep it professional, and no one will be any the wiser.”
Daniel takes it in stride, nodding. “I want to help, Annie, I promise. I’ll do whatever makes you comfortable.”
His words calm me somewhat, and I wipe away a few more tears.
Daniel stands up as if he might leave, following the rules I set for us, but I don’t let him.
I grab his hand at the last second, pulling his dark gaze back towards me.
“Daniel, do you think I deserve to be in the WNBA? After hearing that report?”
I don’t take my eyes off his face, bouncing between his sparkling eyes and that stubborn mole marking his strong chin.
Daniel has always been a kind, moral person, the ghosting he did to me notwithstanding.
However, he’s also intense and honest. It’s what made him a world-class athlete and competitor.
It probably makes him a good reporter, too.
I know that he’ll tell me the truth, no matter how things have changed between the two of us.
Our haphazard handhold tightens as he leans towards me. For once, I’m looking up at him. The moment lingers, both strangely awful and strangely wonderful. I can’t imagine what he sees in my face—how he feels when he sees my face.
“Annie.” My heart skips at the way he says my name, just like before.
His voice is deep, but quiet. “I know you. I know you grew up in St. Louis with a single mom. I know you met Jadea on the first day of fourth grade when she moved here from Kansas City. You became fast friends because you were both the tallest girls in your grade.” I picture Jadea the first day I saw her, wiry and lean, bare ankles on display because her pants were too short.
I remember us shooting her first dunk video in ninth grade.
When she finally made it in the hoop, we both screamed.
“I know that it was your dream to go to Stanford together. When you joined her your freshman year, you averaged 5.4 points and 6.6 assists. By the time you were a senior, without Jadea, you were averaging 13.1 points and 8.4 assists. You got better each year and that had nothing to do with the press you received, which, despite ESPN’s report, we both know was minimal at best.”
I’m speechless at the way he rattles off my college stats.
I only knew him during my final semester at Stanford.
He doesn’t stop there. “I know that in your first press conference with Jadea she talked endlessly, and when a reporter asked you if that bothered you, you scrunched up your face and said, ‘Why would it? I don’t like talking to people’. ”
I let out a surprised laugh, and Daniel grins at me.
So, he has been watching me, just as I’ve been following him.
Something crackles in the air between us.
That synchronicity, familiarity. I feel a little warmer, my chest loosening.
Daniel grows serious one last time. “Annie, society looks for labels every day. They want to label you and these women incorrectly. All of this is Jack’s fault, not yours.
I know you deserve to be out there, which means you have to fight for yourself.
Jadea believes in you. Your coach does. All your teammates.
None of them even considered that you were in league with Jack.
You need to punch back. Let me help you do that. ”
He sounds like he’s on my TV screen, inspiring people to think about sports differently.
To think about myself differently. Being the tallest girl in school who didn’t know her dad meant that nothing ever seemed to fit.
Friends. Boys. Cliques. My clothes. When I found basketball and Jadea, I truly saw myself, and I liked what I saw.
If I let Jack damage that, he’ll damage my whole life.
“I won’t quit,” I promise Daniel and myself. “I love playing too much.”
Daniel smiles easily and drops my hand. “That’s what first drew me to you. Every practice, every game, every teammate—they all mattered to you. When I saw you play that first time, I felt it. I knew I had to talk to you.” Daniel presses a hand to his sternum, over his heart.
My brow crinkles, sifting through my memories. “What do you mean? Your friend introduced us at that party senior year. You never came to one of my games until we were together.” He was friends with one of the men’s basketball players, Justin, and asked him to introduce us.
He nods, swallowing nervously. “Right. Well, that’s not really the whole story.
I actually noticed you for the first time junior year.
For one of my broadcasting classes, we had to write an op-ed about a sport on campus and argue why it was the best one.
As a diehard runner, I intended to write about track.
However, one of my friends told me I’d be an idiot not to write about the women’s basketball team, which was undefeated and just starting March Madness.
He told me Jadea Jones was the future of basketball.
” Weirdly, my heart begins pounding, imagining a younger Daniel, my Daniel, tentatively entering our packed college stadium.
“When I went to see you guys, you were playing Gonzaga. I came in late to the game, rushing from practice. I missed the team’s introduction, but it didn’t matter. You were on fire that game. You had…”
“Twenty-one points and twelve assists,” I fill in without thinking.
That Gonzaga game was the best in my collegiate career.
It was the second round of March Madness and Jadea had been dealing with a hamstring strain and unexpectedly had to sit out the game.
Feeling the pressure, I pushed my team to try to find a way without her. We did, winning by a basket.
“You stood out so much, with your red hair and red uniform. I thought you were Jadea the first few plays. To my surprise, it was your name they said each time you scored or stole the ball away. I’ve never seen a more exciting basketball game, to this day.
” My leg twitches, as if to stand up and reach for him again.
I resist the impulse, keeping my eyes on him instead.
“You were lightning in a bottle that game. I think about it whenever sports get me down. I remember you scoring at the buzzer and your teammates piling on top of you. The clip they showed on the jumbotron of Jadea tearing up on the sidelines. It was a perfect game, and it was you I couldn’t stop staring at.
I asked Justin to introduce us. I guess I never told you because it seemed a little embarrassing. ”
He shrugged bashfully. “So, that’s how I became a big fan. I’ve watched a few of your WNBA games when I can catch them. Even after our relationship…ended, I never stopped rooting for you. You’re still one of my favorite athletes.”
“Daniel…” I trail off, off-kilter. “You never told me that story before.” He shrugs a little, avoiding my gaze.
There’s a little color on his cheeks. To imagine that I played some small part in his passion for sports is mind-boggling.
That he thought I was Jadea. That he remembers that buzzer-beater jump shot I took.
That he remembers the celebration afterwards and Jadea hugging me with tears in her eyes.
That game motivated him to talk to me senior year.
Even as I resent Daniel and want to rail at him for the way he lit our relationship on fire, I agree with him. That game was one of the best days of my life. Every word he says, that’s how I feel about those moments too. It’s basketball to me. It captures everything I love about sports.
I look at him, dry-eyed, but a lump in my throat. “Thank you.”
He reaches down to help me up, pulling me so we’re only a foot apart. I’m still just a hair taller than he is, my eyes roving over that tiny, white scar above his eye. He doesn’t let go of my hand, and for a moment, I have a flashback of him wrapping his hands around my waist and pulling me closer.
The door to the locker room bursts opens and bursts the memory. I blink twice and step away from Daniel, dropping his hand. “Daniel!” Jadea swings into the room. “You said five minutes, and it’s been close to ten!”
She pauses a moment, taking us in, but Daniel only salutes her and backs out of the room. Jadea reaches for me immediately, engulfing me in a hug. She smells of sweat and her jasmine perfume. When she pulls back, she puts both hands on my cheeks. “Have you been crying?”
I’m surprised at the strength in my voice when I say, “No, no I haven’t been.” While I haven’t been crying, I do feel a little strange. This Daniel seems like the old one I loved so much. Our conversation felt so inspiring, so invigorating.
Yet, somewhere in him is that version of Daniel that left me on a whim. That broke my heart and didn’t come back for five years. If I’m not careful, I’ll let him swoop back into my life and rip it apart. Again.
Lightning in a bottle, he said. He doesn’t lie.
Or he didn’t, back when I really knew him.