Tyed(68)

The sports editor is named Cameron, and he’s the guy I’m about to meet. I borrow an outfit from Izzy, because my wardrobe doesn’t offer anything vaguely representable. Fancy black pants with a white collared shirt and matching pumps. With my hippie, wavy hair and teenage posture, I look like I dressed up as a middle- aged bookkeeper for Halloween.

Diablo Hill magazine’s headquarters is situated on the edge of Diablo Mountain in an architecturally dazzling loft with floor-to-ceiling windows. Beats me how a small, local publication can afford such lavish digs. I walk into the pristine white foyer, with blooming, fresh tulips carefully tucked into elegant vases and breathtaking pictures of the surrounding landscape hung on the walls. The receptionist greets me with a smile wider than the fields outside, her four-inch stilettos clicking against a pristine hardwood floor. She is insanely pretty and has the high-pitched voice of a toy dog, and I immediately know that I’m not good enough for a place like this. But I’m already here, so I might as well enjoy the ethically-sourced coffee.

Violet, the rail-thin receptionist, leads me to Cameron’s office while engaging me in a casual chitchat, her huge grin both dazzling and scary. She knock on Cameron’s door and announces I’ve arrived. Then she leaves me on a sleek white chair to wait. Everything around me is white and wood and fancy, and it makes me feel like I’m in a Reese Witherspoon rom-com. I didn’t even know places like this existed in real life.

Cameron opens the door, and I’m instantly taken aback by his looks. He is hot. Hipster hot. He’s got a messy, light brown hair, a dashing face and dreamboat blue eyes. He’s wearing a denim button-down shirt, quirky glasses, tight skinny jeans and a sophisticated grin he obviously perfected over the years. Had I been emotionally available, Cameron would be the guy I'd crush on, for sure. Tall, lanky hipster, designed and molded to be unique and quirky and all Oh, are those funky chucks personalized? Who-is-your-graffiti-artist? and Baby-Baby? Of-course, I've heard of them. Great band.

But I can't get myself to get even remotely excited about the idea of working closely with him when I am still so totally and completely hooked on Ty.

I shake his hand and flop into a chair opposite him while he sits behind his desk. Cameron is nice and cheery and asks me to call him Cam. His office window overlooks a postcard-worthy view of Diablo Mountain.

“So tell me about yourself.” Cam knits his fingers together and gestures with his thumbs in my direction.

This one is difficult. I'm not good at selling myself. I could sing the praises of Izzy, Shane, Bree, Mikey and even Ty...but telling people about my strong points? Ain't happening. Still, I need to say something, so I do.

“I graduated from Diablo Hill School of Art recently. I majored in communications, and I’m very enthusiastic about my career. Professor Penniman was kind enough to recommend me after reading my assignment in journalistic reporting. I’m very grateful for the opportunity to be interviewed here.”

Jesus. I just bored myself to sleep. I believe Cam has the same reaction, because he nods at an even pause, which means what he’s really doing is thinking about what he should have for dinner tonight. He presses his knitted pointer fingers to his lips, probably thinking of a way to break the ice.

“What do you know about sports?”

“Very little. People usually sweat but not always.” I downplay my knowledge so he won’t have any expectations. A shout-out to all my underachiever peeps. High five!

“Follow any sport? NBA? NFL? XWL?”

So, editor Cam has not been reading TMZ. Good.

"I follow the XWL whenever I can." I inwardly cringe when I say this out loud, because I really do condemn MMA as a sport, but I'm also aware that this is my strongest selling point at the moment.

"Yeah?" He scans me with an arched brow, obviously calling me out on my bullshit. "That's good, because we may have a local titleholder soon, and someone will need to cover that."

I gulp hard. "I think Ty Wilder stands a good chance of winning the championship."

Cam smiles, suggesting that I passed an unspoken test. He slaps his desk and straightens up quickly. "I think I need a caffeine fix. What about you?"

I think I need something stronger, like a shot of vodka or maybe crack cocaine.

"Sure, coffee sounds good." I follow him to the door, fidgeting with the hem of Izzy's designer shirt (too tight, as per usual).

Cam cocks his head to my outfit. "You do know that we don't really have a dress code here, right? You don't have to be all buttoned-down. We’re a creative group."

I let out a relieved sigh. "Thank God, because I feel like an accountant in this outfit."