Page 73 of Spring Break Fling

He paused as he buttoned his jeans and met my gaze. “I get it, Hannah. Really, I do. You don’t have to explain yourself or apologize. Your job is a big part of who you are.”

I nodded, grateful for his understanding but still feeling a knot of regret tightening in my stomach. “Thank you, Nikko,” I said quietly.

He finished dressing and turned to grab his leather jacket from the back of a chair. He said the right things, but I could tell there was something off.

“Will you be okay?” I asked, not just about him and his work drama but about us, about whatever this was turning into.

“I’m fine, Hannah. I’ll see you later.”

I watched him walk out without another word or a kiss or anything else. The door clicked shut behind him. Guilt gnawed at me as I sank onto the bed. I told myself I’d call him later, that this wasn’t the end of anything. But as I looked around the room, papers scattered everywhere as an angry reminder of what I’d neglected, I knew I had to focus.

Nikko was a fling in Miami. My whole life was in Idaho. I couldn’t just throw everything away to have a little fun with a man that would probably get tired of me in a week or two.

I started the process of organizing my paperwork. My mind raced with what might happen when I got back home. Clarke was a man of few words. I knew he was pissed. Of course, he was.

As I began to sort through the stacks of documents and notes, my phone vibrated with a new message. It was from Clarke. “Sent the flight information. Don’t be late.” No pleasantries, no “safe travels,” just straight to the point. That was Clarke, always business, always terse.

I sighed, pressing the phone against my forehead for a moment before setting it back down. The room felt colder now, emptier without Nikko’s presence. His quick departure left a hollow space that I couldn’t quite explain. I shook off the melancholy thoughts and focused on the papers in front of me.

Each page I reviewed was a stark reminder of the presentation I had missed. The graphs, the statistics, the meticulously crafted arguments—all meant for my voice, not Clarke’s. I winced at each highlighted section, knowing how long I had spent polishing them.

When I finally leaned back in my chair, my brain fried and my stomach growling, I glanced at my inbox. Clarke’s email sat at the top with my flight information.

I opened it with a sigh. Three days. Clarke’s accompanying message stated that I’d have been on an earlier flight, but everything was booked, and he wasn’t going to pay triple the airfare to put me in first class. I read it in his tone and knew he wanted me to squirm for three days, awaiting my impending fate back in Idaho.

The weight of it all settled heavily on my chest. My career—the thing I’d built so carefully over the years—demanded my full attention. But Nikko? He wasn’t just a distraction. He was something else. Something I couldn’t quite define but couldn’t ignore either.

I closed my laptop and stared at the ceiling. For the first time in years, I wasn’t sure which path to take. My career had been my sole focus for the last ten years. I rarely dated. I never allowed myself to be distracted.

And that was exactly what Nikko was. A huge distraction.

But beneath that distraction, there was something more. I felt a connection that couldn’t simply be dismissed or rationalized away. Nikko had seen parts of me I hadn’t shown anyone in a long time, perhaps ever. That thought alone made the decision all the more complicated.

I felt a weariness from more than just the lack of sleep. It was the weight of having to choose between two paths that seemed equally essential to my happiness. I stood up, stretching out the stiffness in my limbs, and walked over to the balcony. Somewhere out there was Nikko. Was he still thinking of me? Did he feel the same or was this just me?

25

NIKKO

The hum of the tattoo parlor felt like home. It was the same steady, familiar, grounding feeling that always had a way of calming me. Clients came here to get inked with some meaningful message or to have a memory put on their skin. For some, it was a rebellious act. Others were doing it for the hell of it. For me, it was a sanctuary. At least, it was supposed to be.

I could feel the tension in the room.

Diego and Jess were keeping to themselves. I had a feeling they knew my connection to the break-in. Add our last blowup to the mix and I felt like I was the black sheep. The needle buzzed in my hand as I leaned over a fresh piece, a complex design with an ocean and beach theme. The guy was a surfer and had been building up the piece with sessions once a month. As I sketched the lines into the client’s back, my mind drifted inevitably to Hannah.

How many times had I told myself that getting involved with someone on vacation was a bad idea? Yet, there she was, different from the start. Not just another tourist, but someone who carried her own set of pressures and problems, someone as complicated as I was. Usually, I hooked up with chicks that were in town for a week. There were more than a few locals I messed with, but those were dangerous entanglements. Any woman that knew where I worked and could pop in was risky. They tended to get clingy—just like Samantha.

I wiped away excess ink and glanced over at the clock. Hannah was probably stressing herself out about the missed presentation. She didn’t say it, but I knew she was pissed. At me. I showed up at her hotel and distracted her. I was the one who acted like a needy person. She was too nice to tell me to get lost. I hadn’t meant to stay all damn night.

It just happened.

When Diego passed by, he threw me a look—an unspoken question lingering between us. We hadn’t really talked since things got heated. I knew I owed him an apology. Maybe more than one. But that was how we were. We argued and then we were fine. We truly were like brothers.

“Diego,” I called out as he started to walk away.

He paused, eyebrows raised in surprise. “Yeah?”

“Good?”