Page 82 of Spring Break Fling

When I finally finished the last line, I sat back, wiped her arm clean, and shone a light so she could see. “Done.”

Hannah stared at the tattoo, her fingers tracing the intricate design. The rose now bloomed fully, its delicate lines and shading telling a story of resilience, exploration, and finding one’s way.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You know,” she added after a moment, her lips twitching into a smirk. “For an asshole, you’re kind of a softie.”

I threw my head back and laughed, the sound echoing around us. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“You should,” she said, her smile widening.

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” she asked.

“For seeing me. For giving me a chance,” I said, the words coming out easier than I expected. “Women like you don’t usually give guys like me the time of day. And I get it. I’m a mess. Got my old man’s blood in me. You are uptown and I’m barely out of the gutter.”

Her head snapped up, and before I could go on, her hands cupped my face. “You’re not a mess, Nikko,” she said firmly. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’re not your dad. You’ve done very well for yourself. You have real talent.”

Her words hit me hard, cutting through years of self-doubt and buried anger. I was so used to people dismissing me before I even got a chance. People took one look at me and made a snap judgment. I didn’t blame them. Not really. Why wouldn’t they? I presented myself as a roughneck. I wanted people to be worried to be around me. It beat letting them get close enough to cause damage.

But Hannah saw me. She saw through all the bullshit. Before I could overthink it, I kissed her, pulling her close. She kissed me back, her hands tangling in my hair, and for a moment, everything else fell away.

The kiss deepened, heat sparking between us, but just as things started to escalate, she pulled back, her breath coming fast.

“Nikko,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I need to tell you something.”

The world fell away as I looked into her eyes. Shit.

28

HANNAH

Isat on the edge of the tattoo chair, the room still softly lit by the flickering candles and lights Nikko had arranged. It was such a pretty setup. I knew he did all of it for me. It was sweet. And thoughtful. And decisively intimate.

It was killing me to know I was going to rain on his already shitty week. But he did know I was leaving. It wasn’t going to be a big shock, but something told me it was still going to sting. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt him, but I knew it would only get worse the longer I waited.

This thing with him confused me. I couldn’t put a label on it. It didn’t fit into a box. We were neither fully here nor entirely ready to say goodbye. We weren’t a couple. We weren’t committed, but that was exactly how I felt. My fingers idly traced the fresh lines of my tattoo, the skin tender but the design perfect. It was him, through and through—precise, yet raw. Beautiful.

And it was time to ruin everything.

“I have to go back to Idaho,” I said softly, my voice almost lost in the music he had spent time selecting. Another sign of his sweet attempt to make this special.

“I know.”

“Three days,” I said, my stomach twisting. “My flight’s already booked.”

He nodded, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere above my head. “Makes sense,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. “Big break and all.”

I hated how calm he sounded, like he’d already resigned himself to this. Like I hadn’t just dropped a wrecking ball between us. “I wish I could stay,” I said quickly. “But I can’t pass this up, Nikko. It’s everything I’ve worked for. If I don’t give it my all, I’ll always wonder.”

He looked away, pretending to fiddle with his equipment. I could feel him withdrawing from me. I looked around at all he had done for me tonight and knew this version of him was not the same man who had sneakily tattooed his initials on me.

While we both knew this thing wasn’t permanent, actually acknowledging I was leaving hurt. Maybe it was just me, but I felt like the leaving part was years away. I felt like he was operating under that same illusion. Like we didn’t have to think about tomorrow because it wouldn’t come. Because we could just relish in this strange connection. Like we could remain suspended in time.

“Nikko?”