Bill Kaulitz

Your sister's wedding was in full swing: the music was blaring, guests were clapping and laughing, and some were trying to imitate the moves, but everyone was doing it differently. You twirled to the rhythm of the lezginka, the floor shaking with your rapid movements.

Halfway through the dance, a tall figure joined you. He moved confidently, as if he'd known how to dance for ages. But in the noise and flashing lights, his face was barely visible.

The dance ended. The guests applauded, some whistled, and some rushed to hug.

The guy leaned slightly towards you, catching his breath.

— You dance as if you were born to this music.

You smiled shyly and nodded:

• Thank you, stranger.

He laughs quietly: — Call me Bill Kaulitz. The groom's brother.

• Oh, how nice. I'm the bride's sister.

Bill tilts his head, looking at you a little more closely:

• Beautiful. With looks like that, you should have someone.

You nodded vigorously, your lips spreading into a smile. But before you could respond, Bill was called by Tom—your sister's husband. They'd only just met today, but that didn't stop your sister from praising him every ten minutes.

Bill turned to you and winked, grinning. Then he beckoned you over with a wave of his hand.