Sirenz - By Charlotte Bennardo Page 0,2

before I faint. How about pizza?”

Meg brightened. “I know a great place.”

A block or two down the street, she steered us toward a grimy-looking storefront hung with garish holiday garlands that had seen better days. I could barely make out the red, green, and gold through the tarnish. I was about to protest when she dragged me in. It looked roachy; the floors were gritty and it reeked of garlic. But the instant we walked through the door, I was glad she hadn’t given me a chance to say no. Standing at the counter, ordering a slice with extra peppers was … a god.

At least he looked like it from his profile. A rippling cascade of smooth dark locks tumbled to his shoulders, just brushing the collar of his perfectly distressed leather jacket. What kind of jeans was he wearing? It didn’t matter; they fit his lean but obviously muscular legs. Now if he would only turn around, so I could see all of his face.

“Bad-ass jacket,” Meg murmured under her breath.

“Sweet jeans,” I whispered. We exchanged glances. Yummo! But there was only one of him. I didn’t know if Meg was into sharing, but I wasn’t.

Sweet Jeans turned around and I heard Meg catch her breath. His front was even better than his backside. A fringe of hair somewhere between black and dark chocolate dipped above his large, cerulean eyes, which were smudged with a bit of dark liner. He caught me staring and grinned. There was a hint of stubble on his chin that made the eyeliner so work for him. Normally I wasn’t into makeup on guys, even rock stars, but for him I would totally make an exception.

“Hello ladies,” he said, looking from me to Meg.

“Hey,” Meg breathed. She always knew what to say and how to say it, even if it was a one-line hello. Meanwhile, I couldn’t untie the knot from my tongue. Sweet Jeans took his pizza and made his way over to a counter that ran along the window. Both of us watched him as he leaned his studly body over the narrow ledge. The soft glow of Christmas lights reflected in his hair.

I’ve been a good girl, Santa …

“What can I getchya?” I barely heard the voice behind the counter. “Girls?”

A shrill whistle made me jump. I turned my attention back to the pizza. A squat older man in a smudgy apron cocked his eye at me knowingly.

“Are you here for pizza, sweetheart,” he asked, jerking his head in Sweet Jeans’ direction, “or dessert—’cause he ain’t on the menu.”

“One plain slice and a Diet Coke,” I answered primly, trying not to blush.

“And your friend there?” he asked, plopping a cheesy wedge onto a paper plate. I glanced at Meg, who looked like she’d forgotten about being hungry. I nudged her in the ribs. Hard.

“Ow!” She glared at me.

I inclined my head toward the counter.

“Oh. Oh! Uh, a mushroom slice and … a Diet Coke.”

Meg never did diet anything. That was another one of her lectures—that I’d probably already preserved myself for eternity from ingesting all those artificial sugars and additives.

She was definitely distracted.

Pizza Man shook his head and slid a plate and a cup in her direction.

“Follow me,” she ordered, quickly grabbing her food.

“Where?” I whispered.

She grinned. “To make a new friend.” And she started moving toward the window counter.

“No! Wait!” I whispered as loudly as I could. I needed to run to the bathroom and check my makeup, but I had serious doubts about the restrooms in this place. They were probably unisex and I do not use man bathrooms. Too late. Meg had already positioned herself on one side of Sweet Jeans. I had no choice but to join them, as is.

“How did you manage to get passes to that?” I heard Meg say as I settled myself on the only other empty seat, which was on his other side. Bad-boy sandwich. Delicioso! Who would get the first bite?

“I know the manager there,” he answered in a throaty, sexy voice.

God, I hope my mascara hasn’t smudged.

He tucked a stray lock behind his ear and turned to me. My face got hot.

“Do you like Elysian Fields?”

I had no idea what he was talking about, so I smiled prettily, nodded, and took a bite of my pizza so I wouldn’t have to elaborate.

“They’re probably the best new prog band from this area. They never do club shows!” Meg purred.

Okay. He was talking about a band.

He turned back to Meg and proceeded