Heart Shaped Spotlight

Preferring machines to people probably wasn't polite, but it was easier for me. I found people too hard to read sometimes. They were easily over-emotional. They didn't always say what they meant. And I was usually too intimidated to ask them enough questions to draw out the real answers.

With machines and other technology, it either worked or it didn't. If something failed, it was because a part broke, or I needed to figure out another way. Taking personal responsibility for things made me feel more stable.

Even though our station was pivoting and expanding all the time, sometimes at the edge of our technical limitations, those were the challenges I loved. I was given a brief, a schedule, and I made it happen. It wasn't easy, but it was clear.

I had to admit, setting up broadcasts for musicians and other celebrities was a bit thrilling. I got to be ten feet away when giant movie stars were being interviewed. I had world-famous musicians complement my cable runs. In the midst of my computer tech job, I had become a sound tech as well, simply because I was the only person handy with the patience for details.

Any topic that had manuals on the subject, I could easily handle. I just needed a few hours and a coffee.

I realized that my nervousness about seeing Nate could be disguised as tension about the stream working perfectly. Shifting tension was one of the things that I’d learned from Nate’s paper about anxiety from long ago, and I felt a stab in the center of my heart.

I still missed him so much, and now that I was finally going to see him, I didn’t know how to feel.

As I went through every computer, switcher, and piece of gear near the set, it was nearly impossible to focus completely. Where was I going to hide when he was here? They’d need me in the room. I had a little setup in the back corner surrounded by monitors. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize me.

My attention jumped wildly between testing tech issues and trying to quiet my racing heart. By quarter to two, I was trying to make myself believe that he wouldn’t see me in the darkened corner with headphones on.

There was no way he would be looking for extra faces, I told myself repeatedly. Nate would be laser-focused on the job at hand, as he always was. He would be polite to people, but wouldn’t be looking to introduce himself to everyone in the room. He’d talk to the host and leave. That’s it.

When I heard people coming down the hallway, I hunched down at my desk. Turning the brightness down on my main monitor so that it didn’t illuminate my face, a small crowd of people came in.

Gary, the office manager, was showing everyone around. Rosie, our on-air personality who was all dolled up for the video, glided into the room, laughing with the men behind her.

He strolled into my line of sight, and my breath stopped. Those chee

kbones. Those smoldering gray eyes. The ways his lips quirked a bit unevenly when he was amused.

Nate. My Nate.

I had to blink quickly to force the tears away. I didn’t have time to fall apart or get emotional.

He was wearing a tight black t-shirt that still seemed to be his uniform. Around his neck was a steel guitar pick that he’d scored at his very first concert ever. He’d added an extra chain and some sort of larger charm. Seeing the fabric stretched snugly over his shoulders almost made me forget to blink.

Hunkering down as low as I could, I glanced at the man in a crisp dark suit hovering behind him. He leaned in to speak quickly in a low voice. He seemed to be in his early thirties, with sandy hair and a businesslike attitude.

Nate laughed. “I’ve got it. Thanks, man,” he said, handing him his phone.

The man in the suit got out of the way, sitting to the side, stashing Nate’s phone in a pocket. He must be some sort of assistant or manager. It struck me how different Nate’s life must be. Even farther away from my small, comfortable world. There was no way we had a single thing in common anymore.

They got settled, and Gary handed microphones to Rosie and Nate. “I hope that handheld is okay,” he said sheepishly. “Our lapel mics are still on backorder. This is our first live stream interview.”

“Sure, this is great. Thanks,” Nate grinned. He was always so easy going. They could ask him to stand on one foot in ice water and he’d play along. Anything for the audience.

Rosie went over a few points with him, making sure that she had her facts straight, since this was so last minute. She was clearly staring at him, obviously infatuated, but Nate didn’t seem to notice.

The door opened, and Nate’s head whipped around to see who was walking in. When he saw Kim bringing in a basket of chilled water bottles, his face absolutely fell. He was back in character in a blink.

My stomach was churning. My fingers were wooden sticks against the keyboard as I checked the signal, and the feeds for both audio and video.

They seemed to be ready, and Gary looked around for me. “Are we ready to go live?”

Ducking even lower, I just gave him a quick thumbs up. Nobody else seemed to notice. “Thanks,” he said. “Let’s go.”

I had set up the stage monitors so that the guests and hosts could see a ten-second countdown before the red light. Initially, this had been so that I didn’t have to speak with famous people and get nervous. It was extra convenient today.

“This is going to be a blast,” Rosie said with her sweet, perky energy. She took a look around the room where Gary gave her a big smile and nod.

Knowing that it took a second or two to start the stream, I hit go as the countdown reached three seconds. Everything locked in perfectly, and I breathed a tiny, silent sigh of relief.