Page 23 of Spring Break Fling

“Nick,” Tara said. “Nate. Noah.”

“I have a student named Nash,” Maddie offered helpfully.

I rolled my eyes again. “That is not the point. The point is consent and boundaries,” I snapped, the frustration clear in my voice. “It’s about respecting someone enough to ask before marking their skin forever.”

“Technically, you did sign a form,” Rachel pointed out gently.

“I thought it was a release form for the shop, not consent for him to tattoo whatever he wants!” My irritation bubbled up again as I recalled Nikko’s smile. It seemed charming at the time.

“If the form didn’t specifically mention personal branding, I would think that’s a case,” Maddie said.

I looked at her. She was totally teasing me. “Not helping,” I sighed. “It’s about the principle, Maddie. He should have at least told me what he was planning to do.”

I stared out the window, my emotions still swirling. Anger, embarrassment, something that felt suspiciously like attraction—all of it buzzing in my chest.

I looked down at the tattoo again, my eyes drawn to those tiny initials.

NM.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to punch him or kiss him.

Probably both.

8

NIKKO

The shop was a zoo.

Spring Breakers poured in like locusts, their enthusiasm for matching tattoos as unstoppable as their complete lack of originality. If I had to tattoo another infinity symbol, palm tree, or poorly thought-out inside joke, I was going to stab myself with my own machine.

“Can I get a daisy with, like, a little heart in the middle?” asked my latest client, a girl who looked barely old enough to legally order a margarita. I could tell she was a little buzzed. Most of them were. As long as they weren’t drunk, we didn’t deny service. The young woman had a tan that suggested she’d been spending a lot of time on the beach.

I forced a smile. “Sure thing. A daisy with a heart coming right up.”

She giggled, clueless to my soul slowly leaving my body.

I tried to keep my frustration under control as I sketched out the requested design for the young woman. Spring Break was always the busiest and most annoying time of year at the shop. Drunken coeds stumbled in wanting tacky, unoriginal tattoos to commemorate a trip they would likely regret once the hangovers wore off.

I glanced over at Jessie’s station where she was working on some guy’s tribal armband design. She met my gaze and rolled her eyes, clearly just as over this seasonal work as I was.

“Okay, I’ve got the design ready,” I told the girl, sliding the sketch across the counter. “Take a look and let me know if you want any changes.”

She peered at it, biting her lip. “Can you make the heart a little bigger?”

I resisted the urge to sigh. “Sure thing.”

When I finished the masterpiece of mediocrity, I plastered on my best customer-service grin and walked her to the front desk to pay.

She was perky. Like really perky and annoying as hell. But she also looked like she had money. I was not averse to tips. A little flirting was usually worth a few extra bucks.

Lucky me, she gave me an extra twenty. “Thanks. Take care of that.”

“I will,” she said with a flirty smile.

I walked back to my station. Marcus was cleaning up after his last customer.

“You think we could start charging double for flowers and infinity signs? Spring Breaker tax?” I asked.