“Yeah, I’m going. Of course,” I said, as if there was any other choice in the matter.
They both oohed and aahed like immature teenage boys. “Hoping to see a special someone, Cammie?” Tom asked, his over-whitened teeth practically blinding me as he smiled.
My cheeks warmed and I knew I was blushing. I wished I could stop it because the moment they saw that happening, they’d attack me like sharks circling their prey. Anything for a good show, especially if it meant embarrassing me.
“Oh, she’s blushing! Look at her cheeks!” Tom yelled as John jumped in. “Okay, Cammie, no one turns that shade of red if there isn’t a story to tell. Tell us! Who is he?”
“Am I red? I’m not red, am I?” I sputtered, attempting to bullshit my way out of this uncomfortable topic. “I’m just excited to see everyone! I swear,” I lied, and prayed they wouldn’t call me on it.
“There isn’t one guy that you’re hoping will be there?”
“You didn’t have a crush on anyone back in high school?”
I averted my eyes, trying to keep what little secrets I still had to myself. “Nope. I didn’t even really date in high school.” That statement was the truth, and I found myself growing more nervous with each second that passed.
“I think you’re lying, Cammie,” Tom teased.
John nodded. “She’s definitely lying, Tom.”
“I swear! I was more hung up on boys in bands than I was on boys I actually went to school with.” That wasn’t an entire lie. I did have a crush on one guy from a boy band for most of my teenage years. Who didn’t?
“Maybe someone from Cammie’s high school can call in and tell us who you think she’s excited to see,” Tom suggested. “’Cause there’s definitely something she’s not telling us!”
I sucked in a quick breath, but then remembered that no one from high school knew about me and Dalton. Except my best friend, Kristy, and she’d never throw me under the bus by calling in to the show.
“No one’s going to call because there’s nothing to tell.”
I said the words, praying they’d be true as I stared at the phone line buttons, watching all of them flashing simultaneously. Glancing out the divider window, I noted an intern sitting at my seat, fielding the phone calls in my absence. He didn’t look particularly enthused, so I figured none of the calls coming in were about me.
The guys bantered back and forth, the conversation flowing effortlessly between them due to years of working together. They quickly moved from “worst first dates” to “high school crushes.”
“What about you, John? Did you have a crush on someone in high school?” Tom asked, as if he didn’t know the answer.
“Uh, yeah. I married her, dummy,” John said sarcastically, because anyone who was a regular listener already knew that he was married to his high school sweetheart.
“Lucky bastard,” Tom whispered into the mic. “Enough about John, we want to hear all about your high school love, or obsession, or reveal your crush with us on the air. Call us or text us with your stories.”
“But let’s get back to Cammie.” John looked up at the computer screen and his eyes lit up. “Uh-oh, hold on a second. We have a caller from your high school on the line. Hello, Debbie, are you there?”
Crap.
“I’m here,” a girl said with a giggle, and I narrowed my eyes, trying to place the name with a face from my high school years.
“Okay, Debbie, did you go to school with Cammie?”
More giggling. “Uh-huh.”
“All right.” John lifted his eyebrows and mouthed wow at me, but I was too busy freaking out. “So, are you going to the reunion this weekend?”
“I wouldn’t miss it for anything! I can’t wait!” she practically screamed into the phone.
“Sounds like you’re excited to see a special someone too. But, Debbie, let me ask you this. Who do you think Cammie is dying to see there?”
“I think she’s excited to see David Lampson. I know I am,” she said breathily, and I couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped.
“Ooh, is that him? Are you excited to see David Lampson?” All eyes turned to stare at me.
“No! I mean, no offense, David, if you’re listening, but not really. He wasn’t my type.”