My assignment came on Thursday. I reported directly to Miller now and was one of three journalists working non-profit organization news. It was a huge step up, though not exactly my dream. On my own time, Miller said I could research stories that crumbled your heart and made you stand up and cheer. Through non-profit I had a greater chance of finding them. And I had a small office on the third floor.

The new Cami charged forward and made friends with my two co-workers immediately. Trett and Julianne, who told me to call her JJ, were eager to get me into the fold. Saturday night I was attending a black tie dinner for the local hospital reporting on the guest speakers and fashion. Not exactly my cup of tea, but Trett was accompanying me to teach me the ropes. After work Friday, JJ accompanied me to an upscale secondhand shop for a dress.

The third one I tried on was a charm. It displayed entirely too much boob, but JJ thought it was perfect.

"I would give anything to have your chest. Surgery for me someday and I will." I didn't dare tell her I had a coin savings jar for future breast reduction.

The black gown hugged my figure, leaving my shoulders and back bare. The halter neckline allowed for a bra in the same style. Looking into the mirror in the small dressing room made me feel like a mature woman, no longer a girl, or young woman. I pushed my shoulders back and promised myself the new Cami was here to stay.

I had just enough time to get back to my apartment, change clothes, and drive to Skylar's for our girl's night in. Skylar barely had a baby bump. She looked really good and I told her so.

"It's frustrating because I feel great now that the nausea has backed off. Bed rest is not for me, but somehow I'll survive. Miller forwarded your series. I'm surprised they didn't give you my job."

That had me smiling. "I'm a liability when it comes to man muscle, so they cut their losses."

Everyone laughed, and Skylar shared her story about meeting her husband, a retired professional baseball player. "We actually had sex for the first time in the locker room where anyone could have walked in. I was quite na?ve back then. Les scooped me up to protect me from the other big, bad ball players, or at least that's what he said. He much prefers me working women's sporting events. He has no idea how many good-looking men are involved in female sports and I'll keep it that way."

The women all started talking about the naughtiest places they had sex. Even with continually pink cheeks, I had a blast. It wasn't until I was home in bed that I thought about The Slam's match the following day. How could I want them to win so badly when I needed them to lose? I missed Joel so badly, and it was hours before I fell asleep.

The match wasn't broadcast on any cable stations, but it was streamed live by a local television station in Ohio. If I enlarged the video on my laptop it was blurry, so I was stuck watching a small box where I could barely make out players' faces. I stayed glued to my laptop throughout the entire match. The Slam won by seven and I was going to the championship.

I decided not to think about it and slowly got ready for the charity dinner. I tried my hair in several styles, finally settling on an up-sweep that got it off my shoulders and exposed more skin. I was now the new Cami who didn't hide her assets.

Trett whistled and told me he'd do me if he wasn't gay. I'd had no idea he was gay and heat rose to my cheeks, which only had him laughing.

"I've been in a serious relationship for two years. Lars has no problem with me escorting ladies to these events because he hates them." He showed me his engagement ring.

I relaxed because Trett was gorgeous and had the build that usually made me lose my senses. Being able to enjoy his company with no fear of wild Cami coming out was a great feeling. "Is non-profit something you enjoy or do you have higher aspirations?" I asked during our ride to the venue.

"I majored in meteorology and minored in journalism. I've been working on a weatherman gig for a few years now, but haven't gotten a break. I won't give up, and I know it could take years. So what's your story?"

I told him about my journalist dreams and we learned more about each other until we arrived. I had a recorder in my small clutch bag. Trett told me to turn it on voice activation before we joined the party. He led me through the evening as he spoke with the organizers and interviewed the guest speaker. We ate dinner while the man spoke at the podium.

"This is when you can let you hair down a bit and enjoy the stodgy contributors doing the same thing. I've found if I let loose a little they're more likely to do the same thing and I'll get a better story."

So we danced and laughed. I drank too much champagne after Trett promised to protect me from unwelcome advances. He remained sober so he could drive, and he dropped me at my apartment at midnight.

"Write up a few things and email them to me. I'll cover this story, use our combined thoughts, and give you an idea of what we need. You'll fly solo and bring your own date to the next one."

I didn't tell him I had no date. My heart was playing in the championship game next Saturday and he would never give me the time of day again. I had a great evening, but when I lay in bed the tears fell. I didn't think the ache in my chest would ever disappear, and the championship game was now six days away.

I cleaned my apartment on Sunday after picking up a latte. With my new assignment at the paper, I received a pay raise that would now cover lattes three days a week. I emptied my change into the boob jar wondering if I could even go through with the surgery now. Money wise it was still years away, and Carmen, my Ford, would eventually need replacing. The boob jar would remain, but I would leave my options open. I turned the radio to a pop station and did my housework listening to today's top music.

After my apartment was spotless, I settled down to write about the previous evening. I emailed what I had to Trett and noticed over fifty emails in my inbox. The only name that stuck out was Stub's.

Cami,

Received the camera. Photos are wonderful. You have a hidden talent. We missed you at Saturday's game and celebration. Rumors are flying about you. A fight broke out at the bar when someone said something within Van's hearing. Maybe that boy has a hidden soft spot that I never saw before. Woo girl, you have some explaining to do.

Stub

Van defended my honor, not Joel. He probably believed any bad rumors concerning me. Van getting into a fight over me was beyond shocking and made no sense.

The championship game was in Seattle and I planned to sneak in and sneak out with no one knowing I was there. I could easily write a story from the stadium seats. I knew seeing Joel would break my heart again, but I wanted one last look at him while he played.

I began checking the other emails and realized quickly they were all from rugby fans. My second article ran today. I received no fan mail from the previous week, but today was a different story. I started reading.

You took everything I feel about rugby and put it into words, thank you.

It's amazing to see someone touch the sport like your words have.

You've turned me into a fan.

They all continued in the same vein. There were two more segments to follow, and I wondered what the response would be as readers came to know some of the team's personal struggles. Before I closed my laptop, I pulled up the image of Joel standing in the locker room. Sliding my fingers over the screen, I tried forgetting his hands on my body and his heart beating against mine.

Like that was ever going to happen.