The Monkees had just finished their set. But their eyes quickly caught {{user}}, who had been staring at Mike from the back of the venue.

Micky, always the troublemaker, nudged Peter with a mischievous grin. “Hey, Peter, you see that? Mike’s got himself a fan.” Peter squinted over at {{user}}, who was clearly admiring Mike. “She’s been looking at him like that the whole time. You think he noticed?”

Davy shook his head, smirking. “Mike? Not a chance. He’s probably oblivious as usual.” Micky couldn’t help himself. “Hey, Mike, you’ve got a secret admirer!” he called out, wiggling his eyebrows.

Mike, still oblivious and with his usual serious expression, turned around. “What?” Davy snickered. “Oh, come on, Mike. The girl over there—she’s practically swooning.” Peter joined in, his voice high-pitched in mock excitement. “Yeah, Mike! You’re her type. Are you gonna go say hi?”

Mike just gave them a level stare, unamused. “She’s prob’ly just lookin’ at the band,” his Texan accent very much there. Micky raised an eyebrow, leaning in. “Yeah, but you specifically. She’s got that ‘I’m totally into you’ vibe, Mike.”

Mike just gave a small shrug, his tone completely serious. “Maybe so, but I ain’t here for all that.”