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What the hell? This is not what I was expecting to come out of this conversation. Why has he even bothered showing up here if he intended to lecture me about my behavior? Un-fucking-believable.
"How much did Nicole pay to sleep with you?" I taunt, feigning amusement. I can't seriously dignify his last accusation with an answer. I know I wasn't perfect, but I didn't hold a destructive secret either. "Tell me, so I can appreciate what you've given me for free."
He rests his head on the wall behind him and lets out a bitter laugh that makes my skin crawl. Frankly, he seems as pissed off as I am right now. More.
"Nicole was just for fun. I didn't charge her shit. She came along way after I wrapped things up with Ray. I've been out of the business for six months now. Happy?" His cheeks are flushed, his breathing heavy. “I didn’t come here to talk about Nicole.”
"So why did you come?" I'm grinding my teeth, annoyed with myself for even mentioning her name.
"I came here because I thought you might have calmed down. But I was wrong."
It's starting to seem like he's the one who isn't happy with me. I keep quiet, my eyes clinging to his face.
"Nothing to say, huh?" His sad smile fills the gap between us with more than words.
Ty pivots, and I have to do something more destructive. I can't let him leave before I scar him deeper than he scarred me. And he got fucking deep.
"Ray's right. You're still the guy you were, you know," I spit after him. “You haven’t changed.”
He turns around slowly, squinting his eyes and zeroing on me. "This is your cue to run away, sweetheart. So run. I'm done chasing."
Chapter Seventeen
I suck at job interviews.
When Mikey interviewed me for the position at Ned’s, I arrived half an hour late, broke the glass of water he had offered me and got caught lying about my experience as a bartender. So I’m keeping my expectations to the absolute minimum with the job interview as an intern at Diablo Hill magazine. In fact, if I manage not to break anything in the process, I’ll declare victory.
The fact that I have absolutely nothing to offer—I didn't even major in journalism and my only connection to the school paper is that I once fooled around with a guy who wrote for the music section—doesn't help. But I'm eager to impress, and still on a high from graduating, so I'm hoping this will work in my favor.
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.
