Free Angel Dares by Joss Stirling

what band are you with?’
    ‘Seventh Edition. You won’t have heard of us.’
    ‘What do you do?’ He sat across from me, foot resting on the opposing knee. I had to keep pinching myself: Kurt Voss was actually acting as though he was interested in what I had to say.
    ‘Vocals and violin.’
    ‘Cool. You any good?’ He laced his fingers behind his head.
    ‘Er … ’ How to answer that without sounding a complete egomaniac?
    Marcus banged three mugs of coffee on the table between us. ‘Her boyfriend says she’s very talented, but the guy’s such a dick I’m not sure I’d take his word.’
    ‘What boyfriend?’ I scowled at Marcus. ‘Matt and I are just friends.’
    ‘Matt? I’ve no idea who that is. Just how many guys are you stringing along?’
    I spluttered in outrage: that was completely uncalled for! ‘None, thank you very much!’
    ‘I’m talking about your boyfriend, Jay Fielding—remember him? He bored me rigid about you yesterday; he said you were his great discovery, owed everything to him.’
    Kurt chuckled and sipped his coffee.
    My temper soared. ‘Jay Fielding? Are you out of your tiny little mind? The guy is a gold-plated egotistical gobbet of slime!’
    Marcus’s eyes glinted dangerously. ‘So what does that make you? You’re the one shacked up with him.’
    ‘Shacked up? Who said that? I live with my parents, you idiot!’
    Kurt cleared his throat, breaking into our quarrel. ‘I take it, Marcus, you met Angel just yesterday?’
    He nodded, face dark with rage.
    ‘Then why are you so angry with her?’
    ‘Because … I’m not angry.’ Marcus took an angry sip of too-hot coffee and winced.
    ‘No?’ Kurt flicked his eyes to the guitar case.
    I stood up. ‘Look, let’s get something straight here before I’m the one putting a fist through something.’ Preferably Marcus’ face—or Jay’s, as he had started this whole stupid rumour. I settled for stabbing a finger at Marcus. ‘I am not—nor am I ever—going out with Jay Fielding and I’m definitely not living with him. I’m still at school for Pete’s sake and I live at home. Not that it is any business of either of you.’ I glared at Kurt, who was chuckling quietly on the sofa.
    Oh my word: I’d just sassed my rock hero. I had to be mad.
    ‘I hear you, Angel.’ Kurt pushed my coffee closer. ‘Sit down. Marcus will stop being a complete moron when he realizes he’s made a mistake about you.’
    ‘Unlikely. I would have thought that moron setting was Marcus’s default mode.’
    Kurt roared with laughter at my quip, while Marcus fumed and moved to a spot as far from me as the living space would allow.
    ‘Did you want something, Kurt, or did you just drop by to stir things up as usual?’ asked Marcus.
    Kurt stretched his arms above his head lazily. ‘Just came to tell you the tech is at eleven. You OK with that? I must be getting old because all I can think is how nice it is to have a day or two in the same place for once.’
    There was a quick rap on the door and two more people appeared—an Asian boy with black hair longer at the front and an auburn hunk with impressive biceps. Putting two and two together, I recognized them as the other members of Black Belt. From my deep research of the subject—I had read the Wiki entry last night—the smaller one was called Michael and he played drums. The big guy was Pete and he multitasked on keyboard and bass. I deduced from the muscles that he also did a fair bit of heaving kit in and out of vans. The band members were all from Liverpool and had met as kids when they had all been enrolled in the same judo class, hence the cute name. After they hit their teens, they started making music together. The rest, as they say, is history: Black Belt had been talent-spotted a year ago. I could only sit back and gaze with envy at their meteoric rise.
    ‘Hey, Kurt, how was the trip?’ asked Michael. His gaze slipped to me. I was beginning to feel very out of place. These