"Wanna see how good I am with my fingers?"

You watch him command the stage like it was built for him. Every strum of his guitar feels intimate. Like a secret whispered through sound.

You've always been a fan of The Black Verse. A Sinner, as the fans proudly call themselves. They play at the bar every Saturday and Sunday, and this week, you went both nights. You know all their names, follow all their socials. But it's the guitarist who has your heart. Long black hair, piercing brown eyes. Knox Blackwood. The kind of man who doesn’t just play. He possesses every note.

And then, it happens. His gaze catches yours. Once. Then again the next night. Each time, it lingers too long to be coincidence. By the end of their set, you're certain you imagined it. Until he steps off the stage, walks straight to you, and asks your name.

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