I'm So Into You

Additional Reporting

"BRETT."

When Brett finally gets Deane on the phone, she's not sure whether him firmly saying her name is her being reprimanded or if it's a positive sign.

"I take it you listened to the recordings of Josiah's interview?" Brett asks cautiously.

"I did."

"Deane, you're kind of freaking me out. I know I haven't interviewed an athlete before, but I don't think they're that different from artists or musicians or any of the other people I used to interview back in my Willamette Weekly days. I don't think I did that bad...did I? Sorry if I fucked up. I know this was a big get for you."

"Brett, are you gonna let me fuckin' talk or what?"

"Go ahead. Sorry."

"Brett, this conversation was inspired," Deane says, almost breathlessly. As breathlessly as he can, for a 35-year-old man who only feels emotion when he scores big during a sneaker drop or when his team makes the finals. Brett and Deane had always been unlikely friends — he was a sport-obsessed sneakerhead and she was always starting in a play or stage managing some school production. She wasn't a quiet bookworm by any means, but if they hadn't both worked for the school paper, they probably never would have gravitated towards each other. But they both loved writing more than anything and their friendship, now about 13 years on, was based on respect for the other person's craft and the ways their brain worked.

"I don't think anyone else is covering sports or athletes like this right now and I want more," Deane said.

"Okay, wow. Well, first of all — thanks. And second of all — what...would that entail?" Brett asked hesitantly, partially excited at the prospect of ongoing work and also feeling like she might have just gotten herself big time out of her depth.

"Well, we're going to stick with this piece about Josiah right now. I want it to be bigger, we're definitely going to need some additional reporting. The team's PR is excited about the opportunity to use his arrival to build some momentum towards their run at the playoffs and cement him as a fixture. They intend to go after him aggressively this summer when he's a free agent and this whole homecoming angle gives us a lot to play with. They're already on board."

"Yeah, I have no idea what most of that means, but I'm definitely interested in figuring that out. So, I'm going to be working on this for a while?"

"I'll connect you with PR tomorrow and we can discuss an ultimate timeline, but they have a couple of things planned. I think you're going to his session with his trainer on Monday and to a practice and game later next week. Is that okay?"

Brett's heart flip-flopped in her chest. She was instantly excited at the prospect of spending more time with Josiah. She pictured herself sitting next to him on the team plane and imagined him glancing at her from the court after he drilled a 3-pointer. She couldn't stop thinking of his long, gorgeous fingers wrapped around her shoulder as they walked side-by-side in a new city, laughing. Before she knew it, she thought about those fingers in her hair and on her collarbone and skimming her breasts.

The past few days had really messed with her head and thrown her off of her game. Falling for a subject — or even just wanting to be friends with them, honestly — was way out of bounds and a slip up she'd have never have made any other week, she was positive. Besides, there is no way that a guy whose friends were dating Brazilian models and one of the Kardashians would give her the time of day romantically, no matter how warm and kind that person was in an interview.

They'd get to spend this next week together, she'd do her goddamn job and get her cheque. While she did get a small thrill from knowing that she'd get to see him sweaty in the gym next week, she chalked it up to him being a handsome stranger with a kind heart during a rough time. Nothing more.

"Hello, Brett? Are you there, dude?" Deane asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Yeah, that sounds great, let me know where and when and I'm on it."

"You got it. Check your email tomorrow morning."

"Hey Deane? Thanks for taking a chance on me. I appreciate the opportunity to keep working and also to, like, keep my bills paid. I've grown kind of partial to having modern conveniences, like electricity and internet and whatnot, you know? It means a lot and I hope I don't let you down."

"Don't mention it, just keep getting that gold out of Josiah. You have a really incredible way with him, Brett. We'll transcribe the recording for you here tonight, I want to send the executive editor the transcripts to make sure I have notes for you for Monday."

"Perfect. Bye, Deane."

"Love ya kiddo, don't fuck this up" he said, hanging up before she could hurl and insult back his way.

As she hung up with Deane, wondering what she'd gotten herself into, she realized that afternoon had been the longest that she'd gone in the last 36 hours without thinking about her own shit. She threw her oversized brass keyring in the black ceramic dish at the front door and eased off her bomber jacket with a deep sigh. As she turned around and faced the bed/couch/office/lounge/entirety of her bright little studio apartment, her phone buzzed in her hand. Exhausted from the day, she swan dove face first into the softest sky blue linen covering her duvet before checking the notification. It was a text from Josiah.

"I hear we're going to be spending next week together. Can't wait to hear you use 'flagrant' out of context in front of the team because it's the only basketball word you know!!! Better brush up on your basketball terms, West. Don't embarrass yourself and I might treat you to some brussel sprouts after the piece comes out."

So, it looks like he's at least a little excited to see me too, she thought.