‘Are you absolutely sure about the avocado situation? Because I did do an extensive Google search.’
He smiles and repeats the question. His voice is so soft and warm. I could listen to his accent all day. He’s got an intelligent manner about him that makes me want to talk to him all night.
‘Who wouldn’t have last-minute reservations?’ I say.
‘It’s not the easiest of shows to go on,’ he says. ‘It’s a lot of pressure. It’s not for the faint-hearted, that’s for sure.’
‘I can imagine.’
A strange giddy feeling in my stomach is compelling me to use long and overly complicated words.
‘Nearly every episode is one random smorgasbord of haphazard snogging andshe said, he saidtit-for-tat,’ I say asthough I’m writing a review for The Guardian. I don’t know what is coming over me but it’s borderline horrific.
‘Interesting. Interesting,’ he says, beginning to frown. ‘Some might view it like that, I suppose.’
‘You could even say it’s a social satire of reductive, trepidatious twentysomething behaviour. Almost toxic and playgroundy, if you will.’
God help me. Make it stop.
I watch his face fall and instantly regret trying to show off. Tyrone and Lois are staring at me open-mouthed.
Why? Why am I like this?
‘Playgroundy?’ Cam asks, giving me a quizzical look. ‘Oh, like in the school yard?’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that,’ I blurt, backtracking like mad. ‘I’m sure a lot of work goes into producing the show. I just meant that it tends to reveal how childish we can all be at times.’
‘No worries. We edit the show that way. We take out all the boring chit chat about war, poverty and saving the planet, and keep the focus squarely on what really matters to today’s discerning, globally literate audience,’ he flashes me a huge grin. ‘Which is of course, who fancies who.’
His eyes are sparkling. There’s a hint of a smirk going on which causes me to giggle. I’m in way over my head but relieved he is willing to overlook every crackpot word I’ve just said. I emit a nasally laugh that causes Lois to put her head back in her hands.
To me, this is the very definition of flirtatious patronising banter. My favourite kind.
‘That’s very reassuring,’ I say playing along, after all, no one does patronising banter quite like teachers. ‘But I think you’ll find it’s who fancies whom.’
There’s a small silence where we stare at one another. Perhaps he is wondering if my flirting is too much. Then to my relief hestarts chuckling. It transforms his whole face. ‘Funny. So, Libby, do you want to be on the show?’
My heart is in my mouth.What am I doing?‘Yes. Yes, I do. One hundred per cent. Sign me up.’
‘Are you sure? Not too reductive or trepidatious for you?’ he says, grinning.
I shake my head slowly. I am so up for this. It feels like the best decision I’ve ever made in my entire life.
He checks his notes, unaware of the turmoil I’m in. ‘You’ll be the only British woman to appear on the show. We’re taking a bit of a gamble that you’ll fit in.’
Of course, I won’t fit in. Because Americans don’t understand sarcasm or know how to make a proper cup of tea and because we are baffled by your incessant over-the-top friendliness, but mostly because we are deeply ashamed of our terrible yellow teeth.
‘We’re hoping you’ll connect with our British audience and increase our overseas viewers.’
‘We British are famed for our strength of character, our superior intellect, and our moral fibre. As long as you don’t make out that I’m a desperate, slutty villain, I should be fine,’ I joke as though I’m going to be the star of the show, right across the planet.
Cam tugs at his collar. I’ve clearly caught him off guard. He seems unsure of how to handle a British woman telling him how to do his job. It feels rather empowering. I can see Lois and Tyrone rolling their eyes at one another. I shift away so that I can’t see them.
Cam recovers himself quickly. ‘Well, of course, we don’t script this show. Not like we script other reality shows. We prefer a more natural take.’
He is very charming and believable. But I suppose all Canadians are.
‘I have to say, Libby, you’re a lot different to how you were last year.’
