chapter one

 I have three rules for interviewing.

The first; always come to an interview prepared. I always keep a pencil on me at all times, and I will frequently bring my pocket notepad to interviews to write down how the person I'm interviewing looks, or other small details. I have a recording app on my phone that I have on at all times throughout the interview, to make sure that I get the best quality of quotes. Often the best quotes are the ones that aren't scripted answers.

The second; be professional. Often my colleagues at Norwood News tease me for this one, as we're only a high school newspaper, but I like to be taken seriously.

The third; never interview someone that you're too close to. It shows incredible bias, and often the interview won't come out as well, or work at all for the paper that you're trying to write. I try my best to stay unbiased and find people who attend Norwood High that I'm not too familiar with, as often it leads to a new friendship and killer quotes for my articles.

Interviewing Oliver Tate somehow manages to break all three of these rules.

"There is no way that I'm interviewing Oliver Tate." I look behind me to see my editor-in-chief and closest friend, Dorothy Glaser, giving me a smile.

"Come on Deana, it's time that you work up the courage to talk to him," Dorothy insists, and I shake my head, uncapping and recapping my pen. "I figured I might as well give you a bit of a push."

"Dottie, I love you, and you know that, but there is no way that I'm going to be able to interview Oliver Tate," I tell her, and she shrugs her shoulders.

"Well, he's the player of the month, and you always write those, and so if you don't want to write it, then you can lose the points," she replies, and I frown. "Besides, you already have all of your interview questions, so long as you just ask them, and then get the answers, you won't ever have to talk to him again."

"Dottie, I-" I start, but I know that there is no point in finishing the thought. She might be my best friend, but she's my editor-in-chief first, and if I want to keep my job as the sports editor for Norwood News, I'm going to have to make do.

Even if that means interviewing the boy that I have been in love with since the fifth grade, when he saved a ladybug that had flown into our classroom by mistake.

And that's how I ended up on the football field of Norwood High, camera strapped around my neck, clicking and unclicking my light green pen. (Because taking interview notes in blue or black is simply too boring.)

"Is that Deana Coleman, in the flesh?" Santiago Gonzales asks as he runs up, throwing a sweaty arm around me. I cringe away from him, throwing his arm off of me, and he gives me a pout.

"You stink," I inform the boy, who frowns.

"I help you out with one group project, and suddenly you feel the innate need to insult me whenever you see me?" he asks, and I roll my eyes and give him a smile, trying to ignore the butterflies that are going wild in my stomach. Oliver Tate looks over at us, and I resist the urge to swoon.

"It's all in good fun," I tell him, and he nods his head sarcastically, but I see a smile begin to break out upon his face, and I'm relieved that I'm not actually hurting his feelings.

"Santiago, what're you doing?" Oliver Tate asks as he runs up, not noticing me standing next to the taller boy.

"I'm just socializing with my good friend Deana, Captain," Santiago replies, giving me a wink before looking back at his captain.

I look over at Oliver, and when his eyes meet mine, recognition dawns on his face. Even though we live right next to each other, I'm still taken aback by how different he looks.

His jawline is sharp, and his skin is in a constant tanned state, from all of the time that he spends outside. His hair is matted down because of all of the time in the helmet, but often it's fluffy and hides his eyes. It's a shade of blonde dark enough that he likes to claim it's brown. And his eyes are an ever-changing shade of green, the type of eyes that you could just get lost in.

"Hi," I say to him, internally cringing at my choice of words, but then he smiles at me, and the world rights itself again.

"Adeana Coleman?" he asks, and I nod my head. "Hi, how are you? What're you doing here?" I feel Santiago move beside me, and I know that he's planning on getting out of this conversation as soon as possible.

"I'm actually here to interview you," I tell him, and his face breaks out in that perfect smile of his that always seems to have me in a puddle, my heart dropping down to my toes.

"That's great," he says, and for a moment, we just stand there, staring at each other and smiling. His smile manages to light up his whole face, and for a moment, I see a glimpse of the kid that I used to know, the scrawny one that used to spend all of his afternoons with me and his little sister.

"Well, I think it's probably best that you interview him after we hit the showers, so he'll see you back out here in a few minutes?" Santiago asks, interrupting whatever moment we were having. I watch as Oliver's smile drops, and he nods his head, his eyes still locked on mine. Against his red jersey, his eyes are the same shade as Christmas trees, and they're captivating me.

"I'll see you in a few?" he asks, and I nod my head dumbly, watching as they walk off towards the locker rooms. When Oliver is finally out of sight, I look around me, trying to figure out how to be best prepared for this interview. I have all of my questions lined up in my notepad, and several pens.

Unfortunately, I didn't plan for the weather, and as the breeze starts to come in and the sun begins to set, I've found myself cold with no way to warm up.

"Hi," Oliver says to me as he walks over, and I'm so busy looking around for a jacket that I temporarily forgot that I'm supposed to be interviewing him.

"Oh, hi," I reply, and stop rummaging through my things, wrapping my arms around my shoulders. "So, I just have a few questions for you, and then we should be good." I try to stop myself from noticeably shivering, but I think he notices anyway.

"Do you want to move to a different location?" he asks me after a moment, and I smile, and nod my head. "My car is parked out front, and it heats up pretty quickly." I nod my head again, too cold to do practically anything else, and he helps me gather my things. We move to the parking lot, and although we don't say anything, we're exchanging glances every so often. He walks towards a small electric car that is parked next to my Volkswagen Beetle, and I fumble for the car keys that I put in my jacket pocket.

"Is that your car?" he asks me, and it occurs to me that I must leave earlier in the mornings than he does.

"Yeah, this is the AJ-mobile," I joke, and he smiles politely, opening his passenger door for me. I give him a grateful smile, and take a seat on the passenger side of the car. As he moves around to sit in the driver's seat, I notice that his car has already warmed up, something that's oddly refreshing. It takes my Bug at least ten minutes to fully heat up, but then again, it stays pretty warm once it's heated.

"So?" he asks me, his soft voice trailing off at the end.

"Right, interview," I say, pulling out my phone and hitting the record button. "I'm going to let you know now that I'm recording you, and anything that you may or may not say can be used in the school paper." This is something that I tend to say to everyone I'm interviewing, to let them know that I am recording everything that they are saying. "Okay, so what got you into football?"

And then he begins to talk, and I'm enraptured by his voice. The way that he uses different inflections at different parts, and everything he's saying is so well said that it'll be no problem to pick out quotes from his different statements.

"So, yeah, it was definitely my dad," he finishes, and I nod my head, and look down to my next question. "When did you get into journalism?"

I'm caught off guard by the question, often the people that I'm interviewing are content to talk about themselves and then move on with their lives. "Freshman year, I accidentally signed up to write for the paper, and I've been stuck ever since."

"So, why sports?" You. But I don't say that, I don't want to go into all of that with him. How after long nights of listening about his football playing dreams, I picked up on a lot of the terminology, something that was previously unheard of at Norwood News.

"It just seemed like the right fit, I mean, I wasn't really great at tips or advice, and a lot of my opinions-"

His phone begins to ring, and as he gives me an apologetic smile and picks up the phone, I'm reminded of the hour. My mom is on the late shift at the hospital tonight, which meant that I was going to be all on my own for dinner. Which meant that I should probably make extras for her to eat when she gets home.

"I have to go," Oliver tells me as he gets off of the phone, and I nod my head, my face falling slightly. I had hoped to get this interview done tonight. As I begin to gather up my things, and stop my recording, he puts one of his hands on my arm, and my skin is on fire. "We can finish this up later, right?" I nod my head again, and open his car door, stepping out.

"I'll email you," I tell him, and maybe it's all in my head, but I swear I see his face fall. It's his turn to nod, and he does as I close his car door. I make a show of trying to find my keys as he starts his car and begins to pull away.

As I watch him go, I begin to think that maybe I should have just emailed him in the first place. After all, he is Oliver Tate, Norwood High's golden boy. And I'm just Adeana Coleman, the girl that's been in love with him for as long as she could remember.

opening gif credits to: zuleszn
sign off gif credits to: potterlulls

AUTHOR'S RAMBLINGS:

Welcome to the first chapter of interview with the homecoming king! I'm so super excited for this fic, and hope that you guys like what you're reading! Please comment and vote to tell me what you think and let me know if there is anything that you think that I could change or make better so far!

Also okay Oliver and Adeana are probably one of my favorite ships ever they are literally so soft and pure and I adore them. They're going to be a super slowburn, but trust me, it's going to be worth it!