Page 96 of Spring Break Fling

“Slip?” I repeated, a note of hysteria creeping into my voice. “Tara, I’ve barely thought about work in days. I have to show up at the office tomorrow and act like I know what I’m doing so Clarke doesn’t sniff out my mediocrity. I can’t lose Nikko and my career. I just can’t.”

“You won’t,” she said firmly. “But you need to stop beating yourself up. You’re human. It’s okay to mess up.”

The idea of forgiving myself felt as foreign as moving to Mars. I had standards. I was the one people looked to when they wanted an example of someone climbing the corporate ladder. And I was failing so miserably it was embarrassing.

By the time we got to my apartment, I was emotionally wrung out and physically exhausted. The place felt strange—too quiet, too sterile. I dropped my bags near the door and stared at the space that had once felt like my sanctuary. A tiny sanctuary, but it was still mine.

Now it just felt empty.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Tara said, pulling me into a quick hug. “I’ll text Rachel and Maddie to come over. You need some girl time. And maybe a stiff drink.”

“I need a lobotomy,” I mumbled, dragging myself to the couch.

Tara was true to her word. Within an hour, Rachel and Maddie showed up with snacks, wine, and a pile of rom-coms that promised more emotional whiplash than I was prepared for.

“Here’s the plan,” Maddie announced, plopping onto the couch beside me. “We stuff our faces, drink enough to get a little buzzed, and swoon over ridiculously attractive men who will never betray us.”

Rachel handed me a glass of wine, her eyes twinkling. “And if we’re lucky, we’ll forget all about that Miami mess by morning.”

I took a sip, grateful for their attempt to cheer me up, but the ache in my chest refused to budge.

“Look,” Rachel said after a while, turning to me with a serious expression. “When you land that promotion in New York, this will all be a distant memory. You’ll be living your dream, and Nikko will just be that guy who gave you an amazing tattoo.”

My throat tightened. “He’s more than that,” I whispered.

Tara rested her hand on my knee. “We know, babe. But you’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

I wished I could believe her.

Until then, I had to find comfort in my friends and chips and salsa.

33

NIKKO

There was a storm brewing inside me, and no one was safe—not even me. A week without Hannah felt like a lifetime. A brutal lifetime filled with nothing but pain. I was walking around like a human thundercloud, ready to strike at anyone dumb enough to get too close. Without the shop keeping me anchored, I was like an unmoored ship tossed around by the waves.

Yeah, I fucked up. It was the story of my life. I got something good, and I fucked it up. I’d marked her permanently, thinking she was mine, only to have her slip away like sand through my fingers. I deserved it. My little joke had backfired.

I was a fucking disaster. My reputation was shot. And now, Hannah was back in Idaho, probably already forgetting about me. Why wouldn’t she? I was a fling that flung a little longer than usual but still a fling.

I grabbed my motorcycle keys and headed out. The Miami streets blurred past me, a mix of neon and shadows. I needed to move. To feel something other than this crushing emptiness. It was impossible to run from it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try.

I pulled into a gas station intent on filling the tank and driving until it was empty. Maybe by then I would be empty too.

My phone buzzed. Diego. I debated answering it at all. It was just going to end up in another argument. He was going to tell me I was spiraling.

“Where the hell are you?” he demanded.

“Riding,” I growled back.

I could almost see Diego rolling his eyes through the phone. “You’ve been ‘riding’ for days. This isn’t healthy.”

“Since when do you care about my mental health?” I shot back, filling up the gas tank.

“Since you look like you’re about to do something stupid,” Diego said. “And I know you. When you get like this, bad things happen.”

I didn’t respond. Because he was right.