Page 13 of A Little Too Forward

“I have patience, Suzanne. Excuse me if I’m not at my best the day after I lose my job and get woken up at the break of dawn.” I can hear her stifling her laughter on the other end of the phone. “I’m glad my pain causes you such joy.”

“Oh, stuff it, Bean. I was calling to let you know that your interview with Max is going viral. The public loves the two of you together.”

I must still be dreaming because what my sister is saying can’t be real. My interview with Max during the second-period intermission last night did not go well. The two of us ended up arguing, for crying out loud.

“Suz—” I begin, but she cuts me off.

“I’m serious, Sabrina. You’re the talk of every morning show today. I am literally staring at your face right now as Travis watchesRecap 30on the Sports News Network.”

The tone of her voice has me sitting up and on high alert.

“Really?”

“I wouldn’t lie about this. Turn on your TV or click into something.”

Getting to the living room for the TV feels like too far of a distance right now for the urgency I’m feeling. Tapping out of the call screen on my phone, I open my SNN app. I don’t have to scroll or look far. There I am, the first video post on the homepage.

It’s a thumbnail of me and Max from last night with the headline, “Daws shows game off ice with local reporter.”

“Oh my God.” Tapping around, I find that my social media has exploded with tags, comments and new followers. My email is pure chaos, and as I scan down the long list, I see a few emails from local and national stations inquiring about chatting with me. “This is insane.”

I don’t realize I’ve said the words out loud until my sister responds.

“This is good, right? You’ll keep momentum for a bit until you find your next great adventure.”

“Yeah,” I say, still not believing what’s happening. “Maybe.”

“Okay, I’m going to let you go. Sounds like you need to obsess over this for a while.”

“Yeah,” I repeat, not really hearing her as I read my emails.

“Bye. Love you!”

“Love you too,” I say to a dial tone.

The next hour is a haze of searching, scrolling and pinching myself. I can’t believe me and Max harping on each other got this much attention. I was expecting the network to saygood riddanceto me after that stunt, but instead, they’re telling megood job.

Internally, I joke with myself that theSphereis probably kicking themselves for letting me leave. I did my best work—at least in their eyes—on my final night reporting for them. A sense of pride fills me. I don’t feel quite so hopeless anymore. Thiscouldbring amazing opportunities that I wouldn’t have had a chance at before this.

When my neck begins to ache thanks to me being crouched over my phone all morning, I decide to take a break from social media and actually get out of bed.

There is so much to do now. So many emails to respond to.

A part of me hates that I’m getting this attention because of Max. I knew long ago when I decided that I wanted to be a sports reporter that running into him would be inevitable. Max was destined for the pros long before I got the journalism bug. This instant fan love is a bit over-the-top though. We’d interacted onscreen before, and no one had given a crap.

Yet, that other part of me, the part that I’m trying really, really hard to push down, is grateful to Max. He’d picked up on my mood and good-naturedly gone along with the teasing. It was because of him that last night hadn’t been a complete disaster.

Maybe there are some redeeming qualities about him.

Splashing cold water on my face, I snap out of my strange thoughts. Eww, I’m actually thinking nice thoughts about Max. No, thank you.

His one good deed for the decade can’t be my swaying factor into liking, let alone tolerating, him again. It won’t be that easy to get back into my good graces. If ever.

Whatever. I need to switch gears and get ready for the day. I have an interview today withToronto Sports Nowthat I’d secured before my internet fame and desperately need to prepare for that. Even though interviewing is part of my job, being interviewed is something I’m not completely comfortable with.

I spend the rest of the morning going over my notes and practising some of my answers out loud. When it’s time, I shower and dress for my meeting.

TheSports Nowoffices are located inside a refurbished historical building right on King Street in the heart of Toronto. I left an extra thirty minutes early, knowing the traffic was going to be horrific, and it still wasn’t enough time. I had to thank and dash out of my Uber five blocks away in order to make it to the building with three minutes to spare.

---