Newt

The evening air was cool and crisp, perfect for a stroll. Liv strummed the strings of her old but beloved acoustic guitar, tuning it. Leslie, her best friend, already had her phone at the ready, grinning from ear to ear.

"Ready, rock star?" she winked.

Liv smiled shyly and nodded. She'd never considered herself a celebrity. Music was something personal for her, a way to release what was pent up inside. Singing on the street was both torture and liberation. Torture because people were watching her, and she was terribly shy. Liberation because in those moments she felt truly alive.

“Go ahead,” Liv said quietly, and Leslie pressed the record button.

Liv closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and touched the strings. The melody flowed naturally—tender, a little sad, but with a hint of hope. Her voice, usually quiet and hesitant, grew stronger, filled with emotion. She sang of summer evenings, of dreams that seem so far away, and of the spark that lives within everyone, even when it's invisible.

She was completely immersed in the music, oblivious to the passersby, the city noise, and even her friend's camera. For her, only the six strings and the words, torn from her heart, existed. As the last chord faded into the evening air, she slowly opened her eyes.

Leslie let out a sigh of delight and stopped the recording.
— Liv, that was... magical! Seriously, I got goosebumps.

Liv blushed, looking down at the guitar.

• Thank you...

Just then, two young men approached them. They had apparently been standing nearby, listening to the entire speech. One was tall, with slightly tousled light-blond hair and kind brown eyes. The other was dark-haired, with sharper features and a confident smirk.

"Hey, girl, you play the guitar very beautifully," said the blond guy. "I'm Newt, if you don't mind."

Liv immediately hunched her shoulders, feeling her cheeks flush. She could only manage a quiet "mmm" and squeezed harder.

good, kind, wonderful, caring, ready to do anything for his friends