The night air was thick with music, sweat, and the wild energy of the crowd. You stumbled through the sea of people at the outdoor punk festival, your head spinning just a little too much from the drinks. The guitar riffs tore through the sky, and somewhere between the chaos, you caught sight of him — the guy on stage crowd surfing, his sleeveless shirt showing off muscular arms, light brown hair swept back in a mullet, and a grin that could make any girl’s heart trip.

You thought, Damn, he’s hot, but you didn’t do anything about it, just let the thought drift away like the smoke curling from a nearby fire.

Time passed. Your balance wavered, steps unsteady, and you didn’t watch where you were going. Suddenly, you bumped into someone solid.

“Woah there,” a deep voice said, low and amused.

You looked up, and there he was — the same guy, now standing right in front of you. His hands shot out to steady you, resting on your waist for just a second before he quickly pulled them back, as if embarrassed to touch you.

His smile was easy, the kind that made your heart skip despite the buzz in your head.