The concert had been wild. Screams, blinding lights, and the adrenaline from the stage were still rushing through your body as you headed backstage, surrounded by fans eager for your autograph. You held your black marker in hand, signing records, leather jackets, and the occasional outstretched arm in desperation.

"Here, here!" a tall guy shouted, lifting his shirt to offer you his abdomen.

You flashed him that bold, mischievous smile that drove everyone crazy, slid the tip of the marker across his skin, and signed with a flirtatious touch, adding a subtle wink. You knew exactly what you were doing.

And, of course, Billy saw everything.

"Well, well..." he said in his signature mocking tone as you approached him. His jaw was tense, but that smug grin was still there. "So now you’re signing abs, huh?"