Spring Break Fling

Chapter 1

1

HANNAH

P alm trees swayed on either side of the Miami boardwalk while I breathed in salty, humid ocean air and draped my arms over the shoulders of two of my best friends.

“Well,” I said in a sing-song voice. “We finally made it, ladies. Miami for Spring Break. It’s as beautiful as I’d dreamed.”

Maddie shrugged out from under my arm and fanned herself frantically with both hands. “I love you, but don’t touch me.” She stuck her tongue out and panted like a dog. “It’s so hot!”

On my other side, Rachel snickered and reached up to knit her fingers through mine. “I’m glad we were all able to make this happen. How are you doing back there, Tara?”

We all glanced back at Tara, who had her phone up and was snapping pictures left and right. “All good back here!”

I tipped my face back to the sun and closed my eyes, letting the heat kiss my sun-screened skin. This was exactly what I needed after all the work I’d been doing. Sun. Beach. And quality time with my best friends. This break would be the definition of perfection with?—

“Look out!” Rachel yelped as she grabbed my arm and jerked me sharply to the right.

I staggered, lost my footing, and toppled over sideways, knocking Maddie over like a bowling pin. She landed with a yelp on the soft grass at the edge of the boardwalk while I landed right on top of her bony knees.

Rachel rushed a few feet down the boardwalk and yelled bloody murder at the rollerblading asshat who’d nearly crashed into us. “Watch where you’re going! You’re going to hurt someone!” She planted her fists on her hips and shook her head like a disappointed mother dealing with an obnoxious toddler. “Some people. Are you two okay?” Her attention and concern shifted to Maddie and me, getting to our feet.

“That’s the second time that’s happened,” Maddie said, brushing grass from her tanned legs. “Maybe we should leave the boardwalk to the locals before we break something.”

“This street is a nightmare,” I muttered. The heat of the midday sun added an extra layer of irritation as sweat trickled down my back.

Tara joined us and showed us a picture she’d snapped on her phone of me flying through the air milliseconds before I landed on Maddie. She giggled. “Hannah, look at your face.”

Rachel chuckled. “As beautiful as you’d dreamed, hey, Hannah?”

“Shush,” I said.

The boardwalk in Miami was a swirling, chaotic mess of sunburned tourists, street performers, and rollerbladers who clearly had no regard for pedestrian safety. We stepped out from a cute little boutique with Maddie clutching a bag holding overpriced sunglasses she insisted would change her life. It felt like we were stepping onto the interstate.

Dodging another enthusiastic street performer juggling flaming batons—dangerously close to children eating ice cream—we made our way down the bustling promenade. Maddie adjusted her new sunglasses. Seemingly oblivious to the chaos around her, she admired their effect in the reflection of a nearby shop window.

“Seriously, these are transformative,” Maddie declared, turning her face this way and that, admiring the gold-rimmed lenses.

Rachel rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “If they give you confidence, I guess you’re right. ”

“Can we get something cold to drink? I’m melting,” I said, wiping my forehead. The heat was relentless, and the packed crowd wasn’t helping. “We are not in?—”

“Move! Move!” Tara shrieked, her arms windmilling as two rollerbladers zoomed past us, one so close that I could feel the breeze of his passing. I yelped and jumped sideways, bumping into Rachel, who somehow managed to stay upright.

Maddie was pissed. “Excuse me!” she shouted, waving her finger in the air like the schoolteacher she was. “This is a pedestrian walkway!”

The rollerbladers, in all their tank-topped, neon glory, didn’t even slow down.

“Stay right, damn it!” Tara shouted like she was directing traffic. It was both hilarious and deeply unsettling.

“Oh my God, that was close,” Rachel said, brushing imaginary dust off her white shorts. “I think my life just flashed before my eyes.”

“Did it include any hot guys?” Tara asked, grinning. “Because mine did.”

We burst out laughing, the near-death experience already forgotten. Linking arms, we continued our stroll. That was when I spotted it: a lemonade truck parked under a swaying palm tree. “We’re going there.”

“Ooh, lemonade!” Maddie said, tugging me toward it.

“Same,” Rachel said. “But I’m not paying. I bought drinks last time.”

“Oh, please,” Tara said. “I covered breakfast. Someone else’s turn.”

“I’ll pay,” I said. “If I wait for you all to do simple math, I’ll die of thirst.”

“We love you, Hannah,” Maddie said, batting her lashes at me.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, digging out my wallet.

With the blessedly cold lemonades in hand, we resumed our walk. The frosty drink perked me right up. I was no longer wilting in the sun and the day felt like a vacation again instead of a slog.

“This humidity is killing my hair,” Rachel complained.

Her curls were fighting a beautiful battle today. I always thought her hair looked best when it was all wild and untamed. I envied her curls. My own blonde hair was straight and flat.

“Maybe it’s the universe telling you to wear it down more often,” I suggested, trying to dodge another incoming group of sweaty tourists.

Rachel laughed. “Or maybe it’s just Miami trying to torture me.”

As we walked, Tara spotted a small crowd gathered around a street magician. His quick hands and engaging banter had children and adults oohing and aahing at his tricks. “Let’s check him out!” she exclaimed, pulling us toward the man.

“He wants money,” Rachel said with annoyance.

“Duh.” Maddie laughed. “He’s not out here for his health.”

“He’s trying to make his bills disappear,” I said.

We weaved through the onlookers until we stood at the front of the crowd, just in time to see the magician pull a rabbit out of what appeared to be an empty top hat. The children clapped enthusiastically. Even Rachel’s annoyed expression softened into a smile.

How could you not love a rabbit out of a hat trick? Maybe he’ll find rent money in there next.

The magician began shuffling a deck of cards with a flourish that seemed to defy physics.

“I have to admit, that’s pretty cool,” Rachel conceded.

“Pick a card, any card!” he challenged, looking directly at Maddie.

She played along for the trick, picking a card, showing it to the crowd, and sliding it back in. The magician asked Maddie to lift her foot, and underneath was her card. Everyone went wild and dropped dollars in the hat he was using to collect donations.

I wondered if there was another rabbit in that one. Would it eat the bills like lettuce? Surely, it would nibble the corners at least, just to see if it tasted good.

With that image in my head, we all started walking again. I sipped my lemonade and felt completely relaxed. The trip to Miami had been in the works for months. It was our Spring Break. Even if none of us were in school, except for Maddie who was a teacher, we wanted a Spring Break trip. We’d all been friends since high school and through college, and try as we might, we’d never succeeded at getting a Spring Break trip in the books. Maddie was either traveling with her parents, one of us or all of us couldn’t get time off work, or, more often than not in those days, we were flat broke.

But not this year.

This year we pulled it off, and as I looked around the boardwalk, I realized just how late to the party we were. All in our late twenties, I felt like we stood out amidst the teens and college kids all around us.

Better late than never, I thought.

My eyes scanned the crowd and checked out the many storefronts. The trinkets were endless. That and bikinis.

We passed a tattoo parlor. It was a small, edgy place with a black-and-red sign that read “Inked Up” in bold, gothic letters. The windows were covered in images of skulls, roses, and flames. The blinding sunlight outside made it impossible to see through the tinted glass, making the already edgy place feel a little ominous. One thing was for sure, a place like that was way out of my comfort zone.

“Oh my God, let’s get tattoos!” Tara said, coming to an abrupt halt.

“What?” I asked, nearly choking on my lemonade.

“Tattoos,” she repeated, as if it were the most obvious suggestion in the world. “It’s Spring Break, Miami edition! We have to do something wild.”

“We’re almost thirty,” Maddie said. “Aren’t we a little old for Spring Break regrets?”

“Never too late,” Tara said. “Come on, matching tattoos! It’ll be fun.”

Out of the four of us, Tara was the wild child. She was the one dragging us out of our ruts and taking us on adventures. Tara loved to push the limits. If there was a line in the sand, she was going to be the one to inch her toes across—just to see what happened. She was either going to live forever because she never grew up or die young in some freak, adrenaline-fueled accident.

Rachel squinted at the parlor. “It does look kind of cool. And isn’t this trip all about doing the stuff we missed out on in college?”

“No,” I said firmly. “It’s about relaxing and recharging. I’m not getting a tattoo. Especially not in a place that looks like hygiene is optional.”

“Why not?” Tara demanded. “It’ll be fun. You don’t have to get a skull on your face. Give me one good reason.”

“Because it’s permanent?” I said. “And I don’t want to explain to future clients why I have a flaming skull on my wrist. Or arm. Or any other body part. It could get infected. If we get tattoos we can’t swim in the hotel pool. I’m too indecisive to pick one I won’t hate by Christmas. Should I keep going?”

“It doesn’t have to be a skull,” Maddie muttered. “We could get something cute. Like a tiny heart or a star.”

“Boring,” Tara said.

“And still not happening,” I added.

“We could get it somewhere people wouldn’t see,” Rachel suggested.

I turned to look at her, surprised she was even considering it. She was more uptight than I was. “Rachel!”

She shrugged. “You know, something small. Something personal that only we know about. It could be a reminder of this trip, something positive.”

Tara’s enthusiasm seemed to spark a little fire in Rachel and even Maddie looked less hesitant. I took a deep breath, pondering the idea. A tiny, secret tattoo wasn’t the worst thing I could come home with from Miami.

“I can’t do it,” I said. “But I’ll watch you guys get one.”

I felt like that was a fair compromise. I wasn’t the keeper of their bodies. If they wanted to stain their skin with bad ink, that was their business.

“You’re such a buzzkill,” Tara said, crossing her arms. “You’re supposed to be our fearless leader.”

“Fearless, yes. Stupid, no,” I replied. “If you guys want tattoos, go ahead. I’ll cheer you on.”

“We’re not doing it without you,” Rachel said. “It’s a group thing.”

“All of us or none of us,” Maddie said.

“Then I guess no one’s getting inked,” I said, relieved .

The tattoo debate fizzled out. I felt bad for killing the vibe, but I wasn’t a fan of needles. I really didn’t care for the tattooed look. And I couldn’t imagine putting anything on my body that I would have to see for the rest of my days. Maybe it was a fear of commitment. I didn’t know and I didn’t care.

We made our way back to the hotel. By the time we got to our room, the sun was finally relenting and giving way to the moon. We ordered room service—a spread of overpriced appetizers—and cracked open the mini bottles from the fridge.

“Can you believe we’re about to party in Miami?” Maddie asked with a big smile. “I remember when I was in college, I so wanted to be one of the cool kids and go to Miami for Spring Break. Hell, I would have gone anywhere for Spring Break.”

We did our makeup for the night ahead. All of us were putting it on a little heavier than usual. Even I felt like I could be someone else here. No one knew who I was. We could all be free.

Tara danced around in a sparkly dress that barely qualified as clothing, while Maddie and Rachel argued over which heels looked better with their outfits. I, of course, had gone for something sensible but flattering: a little black dress that hugged my curves without making me feel like a sausage.

That was always a fine line to walk. I had a Kardashian butt, only mine was all natural. No amount of dieting and exercise got rid of my ass. If anything, it just made it perkier. I was proud of my small waist, but I couldn’t help but feel a little disproportionate. Big boobs, an itty-bitty waist, and thighs that made it difficult to find the right pair of jeans.

“Tonight’s the night, Hannah,” Tara said, plopping onto the bed.

“For what?” I asked, dabbing on lipstick.

“For you to find a man.”

I groaned. “Not this again.”

“Yes, this again,” Maddie said, joining in. “You’ve been single forever. It’s time to have some fun.”

“I have fun,” I said defensively.

“Reading marketing articles doesn’t count,” Rachel said. “We want you to meet someone. A hot, Miami guy who’ll sweep you off your feet.”

“My type isn’t here,” I said. “I like tall, nerdy, safe guys. Guys that know how to order a nice bottle of wine and wear suits—not Bermuda shorts and seashell necklaces.”

“Boring guys,” Tara corrected.

“Respectable,” I countered. “Like accountants.”

They all groaned.

“You’re hopeless,” Maddie said.

“Come on, Hannah,” Rachel said, leaning in. “Just for tonight. Take a chance. If you see someone cute, talk to him. Worst case, he’s a creep and you walk away.”

“And best case?” Tara said, winking. “You’ll have the time of your life.”

“Turn your location on so we can babysit from afar,” Maddie added. “And send updates. We’ll be your backup team.”

I gulped. “Guys, I’m not?—”

“Going to be on your back,” Tara interrupted, snickering.

I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. “That is so not happening.”

They didn’t seem convinced, but I’d made up my mind. Miami might be a city of wild nights and risky choices, but I wasn’t about to let it turn me into someone I wasn’t. I was way too goal orientated to let myself get caught up in a wild night. I had plans. Dreams. There was no way I was going to let one crazy evening derail everything I’d worked for. Besides, I could have fun in other ways that didn’t involve potential heartbreak or morning-after regrets.

I stepped back from the mirror and turned left, then right. The dress was shorter than I would normally wear. This was me stepping out of my typical slacks and basic heels. My friends might think I was uptight, straight-laced. I was, but I could have fun without doing all the wild and crazy shit Tara did.