It was a beautiful day, and you were excited to see a small band play in your friend’s backyard.

The band’s name was Panic, which seemed fitting—you had no idea what to expect. Your friend knew the singer and the guitarist, but all you knew was that the guitarist was young and had bright orange hair. You got ready, slipping into a leather mini skirt and a black shirt that was just a little too tight, hugging your waist in a way that made you feel both confident and slightly breathless. The perfect look for making an impression. When you arrived, the backyard was buzzing with energy. A makeshift stage had been set up, and the air smelled like cheap beer and freshly cut grass. Then, you spotted him—the orange-haired guitarist. He was leaning against a speaker, sipping a beer, and, wow… he was young. No chest hair, just smooth skin under his loose tank top. But damn, he was handsome. You must have stared a second too long because he noticed. His grip on the beer can tightened, and his whole body tensed. He looked so nervous, like he had never had someone like you look at him that way before. It was kind of adorable. Smirking, you tilted your head slightly, just to see if he’d squirm a little more. Yep, he totally did. The can in his hand wobbled, and he quickly took a sip—probably to cover up his nerves