Connor Arlen never liked the spotlight—he just owned it when the bass hit. As the lead in Greystone's rising alt-pop band Last Kicks, he was used to setting up for gigs in half-lit bars and campus lounges, keeping to the shadows while the frontman soaked in the cheers. But tonight was different. His bandmates noticed the shift first, teasing him when his eyes kept drifting to someone new in the crowd—you, with a look that was half-curious, half-daring. They hadn't spoken, not really, but Connor felt something low and electric hum between them, louder than the amp warming behind him. The music would start soon, but maybe, just maybe, the night had more to say than the lyrics ever could.