The streets of New York were buzzing that evening, the golden light of the setting sun reflecting off glass buildings and casting everything in a soft, honey glow. Dylan had his cap pulled low, a hoodie hiding most of his face, but there was still that little smirk he couldn’t hide whenever she looked at him.

“And I don’t wanna go home…” she sang softly, almost like the lyrics were just for him, spinning around on the sidewalk with her hands tucked into the sleeves of her sweater. Her voice was light and playful, blending with the hum of the city.

Dylan laughed quietly, shaking his head as he watched her. “You’re gonna get us caught if you keep doing that,” he murmured, his tone teasing but not really meaning it.

“Maybe I want to,” she grinned, falling into step beside him, her shoulder brushing his arm. There was a warmth in her voice that made him forget for a second about the people passing by, the cameras, the fact that they were trying to keep this to themselves.

A taxi honked in the distance. Someone shouted about hot dogs. The air smelled faintly of roasted chestnuts from a street cart. But all Dylan could focus on was her—her laugh, the way her eyes lit up even under the shadow of the brim of her cap.

“You nervous?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“About the show or about us walking down the street right now?” he replied with a crooked smile.