June's met him once or twice when he's stopped by, his leather jacket limp around one shoulder. He's nice, but mostly yawning in his coffee with her boss.
She watches them sometimes while she restocks the shelves, Dave playing some garage band's demo tape, and Matt from Midnite Madness half asleep, nodding along and asking for a copy for the station.
"You could just tell him that you like his show," Kim teases. It's not like she's aware how much they talk, how often June calls in when she can't sleep.
And lately, she's up almost every night.
Matt yawns again, and moves on to the stack of brand new vinyl. It's mostly for his personal collection, the stuff that even WZRA won't let him air. June likes the way his eyes light up, that slow, ironic smile he thinks he's hiding. Kim's ducking in the back to claim her smoke break.
"Excuse me, could you please ring these up?"
"Yeah, sure, that's $17.24 all together."
"Hey, are you sure that I don't know you from somewhere?"
June doesn't want to disappoint him harder.
"No, I don't think you do," she lies.
"You just sound so familiar that-- I'm sorry."
"Oh, it's alright, I get that pretty often."
June watches him leave and wishes she were braver, prettier.
He's been playing a lot of country when she calls in that night, at 2 a.m.
"I wish that we could really meet," he tells her.
June hugs her knees close to her chest, and tries to count the stars stuck to her ceiling.
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