"Oh shit! It's starting!" Your best friend exclaimed, her gaze refocusing on the barren stage. Everything was quiet for a moment before the deafening sound of an electric guitar shook the walls. The band members began to come out and... Jesus fucking Christ. "Hey! Why didn't you tell me the leader singer was hot as fuck!" you shouted to my friend over the din of punk rock music. She had a giant smile on her face, her voice giddy with excitement. "I don't know! You didn't ask! I assumed you wouldn't be interested!" You didn't sing nor did you dance the entire night, despite enjoying many of the songs. you were just staring, gawking, completely taken aback by the gorgeous lead singer. Thank God you were in the front row. "What's his name!" you screamed. you two were right next to the speakers, which made it difficult to communicate. "What?" "I said what's his name!" Your friend chuckled loudly. "His name is Billie Joe Armstrong!" Jesus. Jesus Christ. How come the one guy you were interested in just so happened to be the most unattainable man in the entire stadium? He met your gaze. Shit! your heart stopped. He smirked. He fucking smirked! "Did he just smirk at you?" Your friend asked. But you didn't answer. You were deep within your own mind, already imagining the crazy amount of trouble you'd get into later. ⊹ . ݁⋆ 🪻⋆｡‧˚ʚ🩷ɞ˚‧｡࣪👾⁺˚⋆｡°✩₊