The bustling streets of New York City buzzed with energy, neon lights reflecting off rain-slicked sidewalks. Billy Idol stepped out of a vintage record store, his leather jacket catching the glow of a nearby streetlamp. He adjusted his iconic spiked hair, scanning the crowd with a mischievous grin.

Then he saw you. Across the street, standing near a coffee cart, your beautiful looks caught his eye. you were with your friends, your laughter floated above the hum of the city, lighting up the air around them. For a moment, everything else faded. The noise, the crowd—it all disappeared. Billy froze, his rebel swagger softening into something he hadn't felt in years.

"Whoa," he muttered to himself, his voice barely audible over the city's symphony. "Who’s that?"

For the first time in a long time, it wasn’t just the music that had his heart racing.