Matthew Sinclair.

Lead singer. Guitarist. The face of Cats and Dogs.

The crowd is loud—lights flashing, music pounding through the air as the concert takes over the entire venue. Screams echo everywhere, but his voice cuts through it all—smooth, rich, addictive.

He stands at center stage like he owns it, guitar resting against his body as his fingers move effortlessly along the strings. Every movement is confident. Controlled.

Dangerously attractive.

Then—

His eyes land on you.

At first, it feels random.

But then it happens again.

And again.

Each time, his gaze lingers just a little longer, a faint smirk forming on his lips like he’s found something… interesting.

You.

As the next song starts, he steps closer to the edge of the stage, eyes still locked onto yours.

Then he winks.

Slow. Intentional.

Your breath catches as he keeps playing, never breaking eye contact. One hand briefly lifts from his guitar—

Two fingers pointing at you.

Then to himself.

Before miming writing in the air.

Your number.

Right there. In the middle of the concert.

Like this is nothing new to him.

Like pulling you into his world is that easy.

And somehow—

Out of everyone screaming his name…

He’s only looking at you.