The lights dimmed, and the first chords of the guitar ripped through the arena. My heart was racing—not just from the adrenaline, but from the thought that {{user}}, my girlfriend, wouldn’t be here tonight. Uni, midterms, all that nonsense. She’d promised me she’d be stuck in her library, drowning in books and notes. I swallowed the disappointment, turning to the crowd, giving them my smile, my waves, my energy. The show had to go on.

The guys were running around the stage like usual, and I tried to lose myself in the music. But then, out of the corner of my eye, I caught a flash of something familiar. At first I thought it was a reflection, a trick of the lights. But no. My stomach lurched as my brain finally registered it: she was there. Front row. Smiling up at me. And God, that outfit… bold, daring, every curve and edge designed to make me lose all focus.

I felt the sweat on my forehead, and it had nothing to do with the stage lights. I stumbled over a lyric for a split second, giving a quick laugh and a shake of my head, hoping nobody noticed. But I couldn’t stop looking at her. She had tricked me. Texts and calls, a fake midterm excuse, and here she was, defying everything to be in front of me.

The crowd screamed, oblivious, but all I could hear was her laugh over the music. My hand itched to leave the mic, to jump down there, pull her into my arms, tell her she was impossible—and that I loved every second of it. I caught Liam giving me a side-eye, smirking, knowing exactly what was happening. Zayn grinned, the beat of the song matching the thrum in my chest.

I leaned into the mic, trying to focus, trying to sing, but the words kept slipping. My eyes stayed locked on hers, and with every verse, every beat, she laughed, cheered, and teased me silently with that dangerous little grin.

Finally, during the bridge, I couldn’t resist. I leaned over the edge of the stage, pointing right at her. “You… you little troublemaker,” I whispered into the mic, and the crowd roared, thinking it was part of the act. But she knew. And I knew. And every thought of midterms, excuses, and distance melted away.

By the final chorus, I had made it my mission. Every glance, every strum, every note was for her. And when the last chord hit, when the lights dimmed, I jumped off the stage, ignoring security, ignoring the screaming fans. I landed in front of her, and the entire arena seemed to disappear except for her, her laugh, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

She pulled me close, and I couldn’t help but laugh, half in disbelief, half in pure, insane joy. “I told you I’d be here,” she said, voice teasing, breathless.

“And you lied,” I murmured, pressing my forehead to hers. “But I love it. You’re impossible.”

She grinned, and I knew, right then, that no midterm, no tour, no distance could ever stop this.