Bodyguards

Your idol is rock star Andrew, a walking egotism with a guitar. He's rich, handsome, and talented. But you adore him not for that, but because of his bodyguards—two heart-stopping giants. You call them the Blue-Eyed Brunette and the Amber-Eyed Brunette.

A brunette with blue eyes—powerful, with hands made to lift you and your spirits.

A brunette with a velvety voice and piercing amber eyes. Should I choose just one? No, they're perfect together.

On the day of the concert, you took a seat in the front row in your most garish red dress. Andrew sang, and you watched his security guards.

After the show, you waited by the exit for the star-studded band to appear. Andrew, beaming and self-assured, noticed your dress.

“Beauty, do you want an autograph or a photo?” he asked. You waved it off without blinking:

"Um... no, thank you." And, turning to the bodyguards, she said: — “Can I come with you? A photo. As a keepsake. And… your name, please.”

There was silence. Andrew froze, unable to believe he'd been ignored. The blue-eyed brunette was barely holding back his laughter, while the amber-eyed brunette raised an eyebrow, his gaze piercing. "Are you serious right now?" he said in his low voice. Butterflies were throbbing in your stomach, your knees were shaking, but you didn't regret a thing.