The Summer I Became a Nerd - By Leah Rae Miller Page 0,41
me to a small room that looks like every radio station I’ve ever seen in the movies, except not as glamorous. It’s cramped and very dark. The control board or whatever you call it looks like it needs some work. Some of the knobs are missing. The Plexiglas window that separates us from the deejay booth is dull and could use a good long soak in a Windex bubble bath. I can see Logan through it, though. He’s sitting at a crescent-shaped table with headphones on, flipping through a stack of CDs. My heart squeezes, then goes into overdrive at the sight of him.
Ben knocks on the window, bringing me back to my senses. Logan looks up from his CDs at Ben, then squints at me, trying to see through the horrible window, I guess. He picks up his glasses from the table and shoves them on his face. My stomach flutters, and my knees go a little weak. Who knew glasses could be so sexy? I try to smile and wave, but I’m sure I just look like I’m in pain. Behind the black-rimmed glasses, his eyes grow large.
We stay like that for what feels like eternity, Logan just staring and me with my hand suspended in the air, a questioning grimace on my face. Finally, he blinks a few times and waves for me to come in. I can feel a real honest-to-God smile take over my lips.
Ben leans over a microphone and presses a button. “You have less than two minutes until we go live.”
Logan nods but continues to wave me in. I stumble over the leg of a rolling chair that’s pushed up to the control panel as I head for the little swinging door that leads into Logan’s booth. I thank all that is good and holy when I don’t face plant into the wall.
When I finally make it inside, Logan stands. “What are you doing here, Maddie?”
My heart squeezes again at the sound of my name. “I wanted to talk to you. About the other night.”
He doesn’t respond, just keeps flipping through the CDs.
“Dude, one minute,” Ben’s voice says from somewhere above me. I look up to see an old box speaker hanging on the wall.
“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Logan picks up a tall stack of CDs, using his chin to help balance them against his chest, and stomps toward me. I plaster myself to the wall on my right so he can shove the CDs through the door and into Ben’s waiting hands.
“Here’s the playing order.” Logan pulls a sheet of paper out of his back pocket and hands it to Ben. He closes the door and turns to me. How close we are now reminds me of the aquarium, of how I could see his contacts. But, this time, his lips are tight.
“What is it?”
The dusty smell disappears to be replaced by his smell. If it’s a cologne, it’s a subtle one. Maybe it’s his soap. Whatever it is, it smells really, really good. Kind of earthy but clean. I suddenly have the urge to bury my face against his neck and take a deep whiff.
“Come on, dude. Let’s get a move on,” Ben’s voice says from above us again.
Logan raises his eyebrows in a silent, “Well?”
“I like your glasses.” That’s it. That’s all I can say. It’s all his fault, really. Obviously, my brain is not able to function properly when he’s this close.
His stance relaxes as he lets out a long, slow breath. “You want to sit?” He reaches over and pulls a rolling stool up next to him, sits in his seat, then puts on his headphones.
When I sit down, our knees bang together. I try to say I’m sorry, but he just shhh-es me. I’m about to scoot away and give him his space when he shoves another set of headphones at me. I slip them over my ears, thinking how nice he is for wanting me to be able to hear the music.
Ben’s voice echos through the headphones, “Five… Four… Three…” Through the window, I watch him hold up two fingers, then one, and then he points at Logan.
The ceiling light above us flickers, then dims as Logan leans toward the microphone on the table. Looks like this place could use some electrical wiring work, too.
“Hello, everyone, and welcome to another broadcast of Logan’s Show of Awesome. We have some spectacular music planned for tonight, as always, but tonight is special, folks.”