"I haven't seen a line like this since the last time I went to a DMB show," I said.

I could hear the smirk in Kelley's high, fast voice. "Probably a different crowd. I have a hard time seeing a lot of housewives and sorority girls smoking hash in the lawn seats."

I couldn't resist. "Well, in this car, I know which is which."

"Bite me," Kelley said nonchalantly.

We were sitting in my Ford hatchback with our heads out the windows, stuck in a traffic jam that stretched at least half a mile back from the turnoff for Verizon Wireless Amphitheater. The doors had been open for 20 minutes for the Backstreet Boys' show, their first here in years. We'd been sitting in traffic for half an hour.

"You'd think they would have given us priority parking or a frickin' shuttlecraft or something," Kelley said. I looked over and down at her over the tops of my sunglasses. The black bucket seat dwarfed her borderline-midget petite frame, which she had boosted to exactly five feet tall with four-inch straw wedges.

"The radio station promised us a meet-and-greet," I said dryly. "They didn't promise us the future."

Last week, I'd called in to a radio contest on a dare and won Backstreet Boys tickets. That had been a pleasant enough surprise, if a slightly mortifying one; I still listened to the Backstreet Boys, but I hadn't planned to actually spend money on their concert tickets. The call back yesterday from a smarmy DJ, announcing on the air that we'd won backstage passes, had nearly caused a heart attack at my desk. The rest of the marketing department had yet to let me live down my squeal of shock.

I had called Kelley, the other closet Backstreet Boys fan in a circle of friends dating back more than a decade to our first week of college, and sputtered in a mad rush, "We won backstreet passes for backstage boys!"

Kelley, her typical sarcasm just barely hiding her excitement, had replied, "You mean backstage passes for Backstreet Boys?"

"Stage, street, whatever," I'd said dismissively.

A day and a half later, it seemed we'd never get there. The smell of exhaust filled my car, which seemed perilously close to overheating.

The meet-and-greet was supposed to be in half an hour. It seemed too good to be true. It seemed entirely possible we'd both regress to age 15. We'd both been screaming, fainting BSB fans back in the day, and here we were, meeting them in the flesh.

What if the meet-and-greet was for just us? What if we could get close enough for long enough to smell their cologne and look into their eyes? My mind wandered in the interminable traffic jam...

**

The beefy, red-haired security guard ushered us around a corner, wordlessly leading us. And suddenly, there they were, standing in a clearing of scaffolding and wires and director's chairs. The five guys we'd lusted after throughout our adolescence. Standing in a circle, playing hacky sack. It was like 1999 all over again, all right.

Howie's eyes landed on us just as the guard cleared his throat. "Yo, guys."

All five of the guys faced us. None of them were in costume yet. None of them looked sweaty or tired -- just sexy as all get-out. I felt my eyes go wide and my knees go weak. A squeak escaped Kelley.

"Hey, ladies." A.J. was the first to walk over and offer us a handshake. His eyes were rimmed in guyliner, his arms covered with tattoos, a Def Leppard T-shirt stretched over a gut I didn't remember. He smiled warmly. "I'm A.J."

His hand was warm, firm and a little rough against mine. "I know who you are," I managed. It came out as a squeak.

A.J. winked as he slowly released my hand. "I know. But if I tell you my name, maybe you gals'll tell me yours."

"You're obviously the radio contest winners," Howie added with a charming grin, picking up the discarded hacky sack. "So how about you give us something to call you besides Winner 1 and Winner 2?"

I cleared my throat and offered a smile. "I'm Lucy. This is Kelley."

"Awww. Your little sister?" Nick was walking over to us now, an encouraging smile on his face.

I glanced quickly down at Kelley, whose wide green eyes had suddenly narrowed dangerously. She had stopped growing in the fourth grade, she had once explained to curious sorority sisters, and would forever stand four-foot-eight and look about 10 years old. The jokes had never stopped being funny for us -- or started being funny for her. She glared up at the guys through a curtain of auburn bangs.

"Hey, screw you," Kelley said indignantly. It could have been anyone in the world standing in front of her, least of all a Backstreet Boy. "I'm 29 years old, I have a kid, and you can't make a joke I've never heard, so don't even try."

Nick blanched and took a step back. Howie rolled his eyes. "Way to go, douche."

"Let's all take a deep breath here." I was starting to relax, and I even cracked a smile. "Probably the first time you've been read the riot act by a contest winner, huh?"

"Well, it just makes you all the more memorable," Brian said in his smooth drawl. He picked up first my hand, then Kelley's, and pantomimed a gallant bow over each one. I noticed, with disbelief, that he didn't break eye contact with me as he bowed; his eyes teased us a little. "Not that you weren't already."

My heart sped up, class ring-sized wedding band on his hand notwithstanding. Somehow, I didn't remember him having facial hair, but he looked no worse for it. He had been my favorite once, and now he was again. I did a quick self-check. Lip gloss felt even, straight almost-black hair didn't feel too frizzy, clothes seemed straight...

"Well, you sure know how to make a fan feel like a million bucks," I said lightly.

"This guy doesn't get out much," A.J. said dryly.

Nick was still contemplating Kelley. "I seriously just wanna give you a piggyback ride."

Kelley crossed her arms and glared up at him, looking almost straight up. "Do you have any idea how much money I spent on your records 15 years ago?"

Kevin, the only one who hadn't walked up to us yet, rubbed his forehead, a pained expression on his face. "Christ."

"Hey, I didn't see you say hi to the nice ladies who came all this way," Nick retorted, turning on his heel. "Backstage passes don't just grow on trees."

"You're right." Kevin walked over to us, towering over both of us, a genuinely friendly smile on his face and in his piercing green eyes. He shook each of our hands. "Lucy, Kelley, thanks for coming to see us."

Brian looked at the embarrassingly huge watch on his wrist. "Hey, we've got a little free time. Come hang out with us for a while. There's somewhere we can sit and talk. Sign some stuff for you."

"Stuff?" A wave of panic swept over me. I knew I'd forgotten something. I could picture the Millennium liner notes sitting on my kitchen counter, as clear as day. Maybe they could scribble on our ticket stubs...

Apparently sensing my horror, Brian took a step closer and picked up the all-access pass hanging around my neck. His knuckles brushed against my stomach through my ruffled red tank top, and I swear my vision blurred for a second. He held up the pass and grinned. "We'll just sign these."

A.J. rolled his eyes. "Jesus, dude, why don't you just offer to sign her cans while you're at it?"

Brian reddened. "Right. To the green room!" He pointed down the hall. I thought I heard nerves in his voice. "Fearless leader, lead the way!"

We took off down the hall, Kevin in the lead. Nick was now borderline-whining at Kelley, still begging for a piggyback ride.

"Christ. Fine. Fine!" Kelley stopped and clambered onto Nick's back as he stooped. Her ass hung awkwardly in the air, wedge-clad feet bobbing heavily, as a gleeful Nick ferried her down the hall. A grin tugged at the corners of your mouth as she looked down at me. "You really can't make this shit up. It's like we're back at the frat house."

"Might as well be," Kevin said as he pushed open what seemed like a random door. He threw a long-suffering glance over his shoulder. "These ass clowns act enough like it."

"Hey, kettle, you're black," Howie shot back as we walked into a small room with green walls and cushy leather couches.

As Nick set Kelley down on the couch and fished around in his pockets, I sat down tentatively, Howie and Brian on either side of me.

"So, what do you ladies do when you're not hanging out at concerts with a bunch of singing, dancing ass clowns?" Howie grinned at me.

I leaned back into the leather. "Kelley's a stay-at-home mom. Husband's a doctor. And I work in marketing at a bank."

"And your husband?" Brian looked at me with an interest that should have made my skin crawl.

I managed not to look away, smiling a little smugly. "Nonexistent."

Brian shifted his eyes to Howie, who was staring at him with an arched eyebrow. Unspoken communication seemed to pass between them, and they got up from the couch, standing close together.

Nick had had no luck in his pockets. A.J. produced a Sharpie from his back pocket. He uncapped it and looked back and forth between me and Kelley. "Autographs, ladies?"

I took the all-access pass from around my neck and handed it to A.J., but my eyes were on Brian and Howie, who were talking just a few feet away from me, doing a shite job of being quiet.

"You're not gonna cash in your fan chip now, are you?" I thought I heard Howie say.

"Well, why not?" I could swear I heard Brian mutter. "She's hot. She's single."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. They both looked down at me. My pulse drummed in my veins, and I was sure I was as red as my tank top. I didn't really care if I saw the show now or not.

As Howie took our passes and A.J.'s Sharpie, Brian sat down next to me, unmasked interest in his piercing blue eyes. He was awfully close, and the smell of his cologne washed over me.

"Hey, listen," he said, and leaned in still closer. His voice suddenly became high, feminine and fast. "Traffic's moving."

I pulled back. "What?"

**

"Earth to Lucy! Traffic's moving!" A small hand waved in front of my eyes.

I snapped to attention. The cars in front of me had disappeared, and horns were honking behind me. An Escalade swung around us in the other lane, and a platinum blonde girl glowered down at us.

Kelley was staring at me. "Dude, you wanna miss the meet-and-greet?"

I took a deep breath, put the car in drive and continued, at last, the journey to the venue.