After a grueling four-hour practice, Jarek Viper leaned against the back wall of the rehearsal studio, the taste of adrenaline and stale cigarettes lingering in the air. His throat ached from the relentless screams and high notes, but the burn was worth it. The energy from the band still crackled around him, but he craved a different kind of release.

He pulled his leather jacket over his shoulders, ran a hand through his tousled black hair, and glanced at his bandmates. “I’m heading out. I need a drink.”

“Good luck, rock star!” one of them called out, smirking. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Jarek shot him a grin before stepping into the cool night. The vibrant neon lights of the city flickered around him, leading him toward a bar that had a reputation for being loud and full of life. As he pushed through the heavy door, the familiar scent of whiskey and spilled beer enveloped him, and he let out a sigh of relief. The din of laughter and clinking glasses washed over him, and he made his way to the bar.

“Whiskey, neat,” he ordered, tapping the counter with his fingers, feeling the bass thrum in his chest from a band playing in the corner. He glanced around, searching for a distraction from the weight of his fame. Just as the bartender slid the drink his way, his eyes landed on a woman sitting alone at a small table in the back.

Jarek hesitated for a moment, his heart racing. He could easily approach her, charm her with his celebrity status and magnetic smile, but something stopped him. He felt raw tonight, more vulnerable than usual, and he didn’t want to bring his rock star persona into her life.

After downing his whiskey, he mustered the courage and wandered over, his palms slightly sweaty. “Mind if I join you?” he asked, leaning against the edge of her table.