I was still staring at the menu when he came over. He was so sexy, even his pants were sexy.
"Can I sit with you?" His voice was like a mellow, throbbing bass line.
Anything you want, Mr. Sexypants, I thought. I blushed scarlet from my forehead all the way down to my ample cleavage.
"Sure," I mumbled, acting like I didn't care either way.
I looked up at him again, and he was twice as sexy as he'd been ten seconds before. I wanted to say something cool, but in my tipsy state, I could barely focus, and my menu kept shifting between single and double images.
Mr. Sexypants ordered water, because he was just that cool. I thought about ordering salad, so I could be cool, too, but when the waitress came and I actually opened up my mouth, I said "Lemon pie."
Pie? Really? Awesome job, Anna, I scolded myself.
I played with my hair, twisting a lock of my bottle-blonde hair between my fingers. It smelled like smoke.
"You seem like you know your way around this place," Mr. Sexypants said.
"No, not really," I lied. "I actually DJ down the street at The Dive."