Page 81 of Spring Break Fling

“Okay,” she sighed. “If you insist.”

We got up and got dressed. I drove her to the shop. It felt weird going back to the place I had poured my heart and soul into for years, knowing it wasn’t my place anymore. Yet again, I’d lost a place I called home.

Gritting my teeth against the anger that boiled up inside, I used my key to let us in the back door. I left the lights off. Hannah didn’t need to see the hell Samantha had unleashed earlier this afternoon. The last thing I wanted tonight was pity.

I took Hannah’s hand and led her down the narrow back hall into one of the private rooms that Marcus usually used as his office. He’d let me bring my chair and tools there and set up for Hannah so we had a sterile environment away from the chaos that still needed to be put back together.

I’d come here first to string up some twinkle lights and light some candles in an effort to set the mood for Hannah after everything I’d done.

“You really went all out,” she breathed, glancing at the lights strung up like tiny stars, the flickering candles, and the soft sheet that now draped my workstation, hiding Marcus’s messy desk from view. Her voice held a teasing lilt, but her gaze betrayed how much she appreciated the effort.

The string lights cast enough light to see, but it was much softer than the usual glaring lights I worked under.

“I wanted this to be different,” I admitted. “Not just a tattoo. A moment. A thank you.”

She raised an eyebrow. “For what?”

“For putting up with me,” I said, half-grinning. “And for… I don’t know. Everything. Being you, I guess.”

She laughed, but it was a soft, almost shy sound. “If this is your way of apologizing for earlier, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I don’t plan on messing this up.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she sat on my chair. The faint initials I’d hidden there stared back at me, and for a second, I felt a twinge of regret. Not because I was covering them, but because I was doing it for her, and that meant something.

“That doesn’t look like the normal stuff,” Hannah said and gestured to the vintage medical trays.

“It still works,” I assured her.

Diego had helped me set up the candles and pulled out some of the old equipment. He thought it was funny I was going all out for a tattoo fix. But this wasn’t just a fix. This was a statement. The compass and rose design I sketched wasn’t just art; it was a narrative of her journey, of our unexpected connection. I spent hours preparing every detail, from selecting the most delicate needles to creating a comfortable if not romantic setting for her session. I’d curated a playlist with her in mind—soft indie tracks mixed with the kind of raw, soulful stuff that spoke to the complicated connection we shared.

“Ready?” I asked after cleaning and shaving her skin.

“Ready,” she said, her voice steady, her trust in me obvious.

As I began, the machine buzzed steadily with the music softening the sound. I kept my focus sharp, my strokes deliberate, the design coming to life under her skin. Every now and then, I’d catch her stealing glances at me, her lips twitching as if she wanted to say something but held back. I worked as gently as I could, and she must have been relaxed, because several times I turned off my needle to listen to her humming along with a song. She cracked open an eye and caught me staring, listening in rapture, and smiled.

I cleared my throat. “So, what’s your deal with tattoos? This is your first one, right? Unless I missed something, which I don’t think is possible.”

She snorted. “What do you think?”

“I think you walked into my shop like you wanted to be anywhere else but here.”

She laughed again, wincing slightly as I worked on a sensitive spot. “Okay, fine. It’s my first real one. I had a questionable phase in college with some henna, though.”

“Let me guess. Butterflies and inspirational quotes?”

“Worse,” she groaned. “A moon and stars. Very mystical. Very cringe.”

I smirked, shaking my head. “Should’ve gone full tramp stamp. Really commit.”

She swatted my arm lightly. “So, did you really set all this up just for me?”

I paused, meeting her eyes. “Yeah. I wanted it to be special.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, glancing away. “You’re full of surprises, Nikko.”

“Don’t get used to it,” I teased.