Kaya smiles proudly. “I am. Our team has been killing it in practice so far and I think we have a chance to win it all this year.”
Thinking about our busy schedules reminded me that Kaya’s set to start her new season soon, and I know how nervous she gets at the start every year.
“You’re going to be amazing,” I tell her, having witnessed whenever I can how much of a badass she is on the court.
“Thank you. Sometimes I need that reminder. I can get lost in my head so easily,” she admits, so I place my hand on her arm, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“I’m here for you, whatever you need,” I tell her, and Kaya places her other hand on top of mine, squeezing back.
“Sorry.” Clara blows a breath as she returns to the table with a tray of shots. “Turns out she knows a family friend, so we talked for a bit.”
“You? Talk to strangers? Shocking.” My voice oozes sarcasm, making Kaya laugh as Clara’s mouth pops open.
“Rude,” she mocks offense, placing a hand on her chest. Then her lips tilt and she joins our laughter. “But true, I can make friends with anyone.”
“Don’t we know it,” Kaya mutters, making me laugh more. We’ve been friends for a long time, and there have been many instances where we’ve adopted strangers into our outings due to Clara’s overly-friendly personality.
“Yeah, yeah, take your shot,” Clara orders as she passes one to each of us.
I bring mine upward, inspecting the red liquid. “What is this?”
“It’s a white freezie. A shot that doesn’t actually taste like death,” she explains, holding her glass up in the air. “Cheers to the talented trio.”
“Talented trio?” Kaya’s brows rise in confusion.
“There are three of us… We’re all talented. Get it?” Clara enunciates slowly.
Kaya and I turn to each other and shrug as we can’t help but chuckle.
“To the talented trio!” the three of us say in unison, then down our shots, which are surprisingly good.
We spend the next few minutes chatting, when I notice a man behind Clara, sitting at the bar with his eyes on us.
The man notices that I caught him and approaches our table. Once he gets to us, he says, “Clara Connelly?”
“The one and only.” She beams with a bright smile. “Did you want me to sign something?”
“No, that’s okay. I just wanted to say that was a great goal you scored against Chicago last week,” the man says, looking starstruck.
“It couldn’t have happened without the assist from my teammate,” Clara replies, always making sure to credit her team.
“I’ll be watching your next game against New York. Keep up the good work,” he says before moving to head off. His eyes widen when his gaze moves to Kaya.
“Holy shit. Kaya Dalisay. I can’t believe you’re also here. This night just keeps getting better,” he exclaims. “I look forward to watching you and the other girls this season. Go Team USA.”
“Thank you for the support.” She smiles politely at him.
The man then turns his attention to me, and for some reason, my stomach sinks. With my abruptretirement,who knows what he’ll say.
“Teagan, what a great career. I was shocked by the news. I thought you had more years left in you. But you got to do what’s best for you. Your competitors breathed a sigh of relief at the news, I bet.”
I do my best to control my emotions, not wanting him to see how pissed off I really am about it. So, instead, I put on a fake smile and say, “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your night, ladies, I won’t bug you longer. Great to meet you all,” he says in parting before leaving.
Kaya and Clara talk about how nice the man was, while I fixate on what he said. I knew I was the best talent in our country, and that validation felt sweeter than anything.
And yet, the validation wasn’t enough to overpower the sour taste in my mouth at his assumption that I quit in my prime. I’m not an idiot. I’ve seen the news stories online and the comments swirling around on social media. But to hear it up close and personal, it stings. Peoplereallythink I’m done.
