Page 74 of Spotlight Hearts

The paparazzi are clustered across the street like vultures, cameras already snapping.

Great. Exactly what I need tonight.

Tattoo Guy stiffens beside me. “Uh… dude?”

“Ignore them,” I mutter.

Another flash pops.

“Luca, is the band breakup rumor true?”

Something inside me snaps. I turn toward them and lift my hand. Not to wave. My middle finger goes straight up.

A couple of them shout louder, cameras going wild. Good. Let them have their show.

Tattoo Guy laughs nervously. “You famous or something?”

“Something like that,” I say.

He shrugs and flags down a ride-share. Ten minutes later, we’re climbing the stairs to his apartment.

The place is small. Really small. Second-floor walk-up, peeling paint on the hallway walls, the faint smell of old takeout and cheap detergent lingering in the air.

Inside isn’t much better.

A sagging couch. A tiny kitchen barely separated from the living room. A mattress shoved against the far wall.

Tattoo Guy kicks the door shut behind us and tosses his keys onto the counter.

“Sorry about the mess,” he says.

I wave it off.

“Trust me. I’ve seen worse.”

My head spins when I move. Maybe I drank more than I thought. Tattoo Guy steps closer, his hands settling on my hips.

“So,” he murmurs. “You wanna keep the party going?”

A few hours ago, I would’ve said yes without thinking. Now I just stare at him. And my brain betrays me again.

Because when he leans in—for half a second, I want it to be Kai. My stomach lurches. Hard.

“Oh—shit⁠—”

I shove past him and barely make it two steps before it hits. Everything I drank comes back up all over the floor.

Violently.

Loud.

Humiliatingly.

I grip the counter, coughing as my stomach heaves again. Behind me, Tattoo Guy just stares.

“…Well,” he says slowly. “That’s not how I expected tonight to go.”

I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, mortified.