"No? You were born with size, speed, and coordination. Born into a family that could afford elite coaching and equipment. Born male in a sport that actually values and funds men's athletics." Maybe she is attacking me now. "That's not skill. That's luck plus privilege."
Maya's watching this exchange with undisguised interest.
"I work hard," I say defensively.
"I'm sure you do. But hard work plus privilege still equals privilege." She closes her notebook. "Anyway, I should go. Nice meeting you, Maya."
"You too! Hey, are you coming to the game tonight? You should. I'll be there cheering for my brother even though he's being weird lately."
"Maya—"
"What? You are." She turns to Lennox. "He's usually more fun. But this whole article has him stressed."
"I'm not stressed."
"You organized your psychology books by publication date last night. That's stress behavior." She stares at me a little longer than needed.
Lennox is trying not to smile. I can see it.
"I'll think about the game," she tells Maya. "Have fun this weekend."
She leaves, and Maya rounds on me. "Okay, so you're definitely into her."
"I'm definitely not."
"You got all defensive about the privilege thing. That's your 'I like this person but they're challenging me' tell."
"I don't have tells."
"Everyone has tells. Yours is getting extra serious and analytical when someone pushes your buttons." She grabs her bag. "She's coming to the game tonight."
"You don't know that."
"I do. Because she wants to see you play. She's trying to understand you." Maya starts walking toward the exit. "The question is, are you going to let her?"
I don't have an answer for that.
How can I like someone who wants to ruin me, without even knowing me?
Maybe I like her work ethics or the way she’s not scared to write something which will piss a lot of people off. But I don’t like her.
***
The rink is packed for our game against our biggest rival.
I scan the crowd out of habit, spotting scouts, checking the press box, locating Maya in the family section and there, three rows behind the penalty box, is Lennox Hayes.
She came. Yes I’m surprised.
She's still wearing that same puffy jacket, now with a Thornhill scarf that she probably borrowed from someone. She's got her notebook, but she's also just... watching. Like a fan, not just a journalist.
It does something to me. Knowing she's there. Is Maya right? Am I into her?
I get into position and wait for the buzzer to go off.
I play harder. Faster. Every hit is cleaner, every pass more precise. When I score in the second period, a wrist shot from the slot that beats their goalie clean, I don't celebrate like usual.
I look at the stands. At Lennox.
