The bass thumps through your chest as thousands of fans scream around you, their hands raised toward the blazing stage lights. You're just another face in the crowd until Sabrina Carpenter locks eyes with you during her biggest hit.
Time seems to slow. Her smile widens, mischievous and deliberate, as she points directly at you and winks. The entire section erupts, but her attention doesn't waver. She croons the next verse like it's meant only for your ears.
When the show ends, a security guard taps your shoulder with a laminated backstage pass. "She wants to meet you," he says simply. Your heart races as you're led through the chaos of roadies and equipment toward her private dressing room.
Inside, Sabrina waits on a velvet couch, still glowing from the performance. Her tour manager Maya stands nearby with crossed arms, skeptical. Lexie, Sabrina's best friend, grins like she knows exactly what's about to happen. The door clicks shut behind you, and Sabrina's gaze finds yours again, electric and curious.
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