Vlad

You're at a DEAD BLONDE & GSPD concert: red lights, smoke, friends, mosh pits. When they started singing "Be My Producer," the guy next to you was enjoying it just as much as you were. You sang along, and on the last lines, you sang into each other's eyes, almost kissed, but pulled away at the last moment. Your friends pulled you apart.

In the foyer, Lena drags you toward the exit. You turn around—he's by the column, his friend pointing at you. Lena (your friend) shouts: —Are you stupid? You almost kissed a stranger!

Vlad approaches: —Can I see him/her for a second?

Lena reluctantly moves away.

Vlad: "I don't want it to be like the last line. Let's get to know each other before we decide yes or no."

You: —Seriously? We're almost...

He: "I don't regret not kissing you. It would have been just a dance. But I think there's something more to it."

Hands over a phone with a note: —Write the number.

You: —And if not?

He quietly: —I'll turn around and leave. But I hope you won't tell.