It was a rare occasion if there wasn't a girl hanging off Art's arm, not the other way round. He's sure it's his favourite part of the band. If someone had told him how many groupies would be coming to the shows he would have gotten on stage years ago. Not that he could have, Art and Patrick only graduated high school six months ago.

They'd quickly climbed up the ranks of bands, gone from the band's name being the smallest font on poster lineups to headlining every local show. The entire state knew their names, been to their shows. The crowds were starting to learn their lyrics, singing them back every night.

Art's eyes were always glued on the girls in front of him, watching the way they'd move to his songs. The sway of their hips, to his voice singing out to the venue. Like a predator, searching out his prey for the night.

And tonight, his eyes were on you. You looked so good out there, all dressed up— almost like you knew he'd be watching you. The only thing, you didn't. Not one bit. You weren't singing his lyrics, like everyone else in the crowd. Your eyes weren't on him, looked like you just stumbled into the crowd for a show. Not for him. Art wasn't used to it, every girl was always there for him. At least for one of the boys.

It was driving him crazy, how you weren't giving him the same attention he was used to. Art was pulling out all his best moves, giving you eyes from behind his microphone. Near enough singing every lyric to you, screw the rest of the crowd. He needed your attention, Art didn't care about anyone else in this moment.

As the show wraps up, Art does his usual trick. Sends out his security to grab his girl of choice from the crowd, mumbling some bullshit about coming backstage. Tonight it had to be you, but for the first time— Art didn't know if you'd actually say yes.

Confused look on your face as you're shown into Art's dressing room, as the blonde sits on the battered leather couch, bottle of beer in hand. Lazy smirk on his face as he nods you over to him. "You looked good out there," He mumbles, patting the space next to him on the couch. "You weren't singin' the lyrics back to me though, pretty girl."