Page 104 of Spring Break Fling

Her eyes softened. “You’re not a mess, Nikko. You’re just figuring things out. And for what it’s worth, I would’ve stayed.”

That hit me square in the chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she said, smiling softly.

We sat there for a moment, just looking at each other, and I felt like the world had righted itself for the first time in weeks.

Then she surprised me.

“If you’re waiting for things to blow over in Miami, why don’t you stay here? With me. Boise is a great place to lay low.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Here? In Boise?”

“Yeah,” she said, her cheeks turning pink. “We could use the time to figure out… us. No pressure, no expectations. Just see where it goes.”

I stared at her, stunned. The idea was insane—and yet, it made perfect sense.

“You don’t have cats, do you?” I asked, deadpan.

She blinked, then burst out laughing. “What?”

“I’m allergic,” I said, grinning.

She shook her head, still laughing. “No, no cats. See? I’m already learning new things about you.”

“Guess we’ll learn a lot more,” I said, my smile widening.

“Guess we will,” she agreed.

36

HANNAH

After dinner, I brought Nikko back to my tiny eight-hundred square-foot apartment. It was the space I’d lovingly referred to as “cozy” but secretly felt a little self-conscious about now that he was here. It wasn’t glamorous and was about as far from pretentious as one could get. One day, I would have an apartment on the Upper West Side with a beautiful view of the Manhattan skyline.

Well, that had been the dream, but after today, that dream was getting further and further away. It made me think I may never get it. I was destined to live in this tiny apartment and spend my days busting ass for other people to get the accolades.

But that wasn’t important. Appearances didn’t matter. Of all the people I brought to my place, I knew Nikko would be one of the less judgmental. He wasn’t like that. He couldn’t give a shit about my address or my view.

I still couldn’t believe he’d actually come to Boise—my little corner of the world. Even if part of the reason was because Miami was getting a little too hot. It still meant a lot to me that when he ran from his home, he ran to me. Long distance seemed a lot easier when we were parked in my designated spot in front of the building I called home.

“Is that the only bag you brought?” I asked, gesturing to the duffel in the back seat.

“Yep,” Nikko said, grabbing the bag. “Traveling light. Never know when I might need to move quickly. You won’t even know I’m here. I won’t leave a bunch of shit lying about.”

I laughed. “Trust me, with the size of my place, a sock will make the entire place look a mess, but that’s not your fault.”

I led him up to the second floor and unlocked the door. “So, this is the place,” I said, pushing open the door with a flourish and flipping on the lights. “Welcome to Casa de Hannah.”

Nikko stepped inside, glancing around with mock seriousness. “Hmm, I like what you’ve done with the place. Very ‘minimalist with a dash of mid-life crisis.’”

“Excuse me?” I laughed, nudging him in the side. “This is peak Pinterest chic, thank you very much.”

He wandered around, his gaze flicking from the tiny kitchen to the slightly sagging sofa. Then he spotted the open shelving above my desk and squinted. “What’s that?”

“What’s what?” I asked, peering over his shoulder.

“This… thing.” He reached up and grabbed my crochet cactus, holding it like it might bite.