Spring Break Fling

Chapter 7

7

HANNAH

I zipped my suitcase and looked around the hotel room. Without fail, I always left something behind. Whether it was a phone charger, curling iron, or a sock, I never managed to get it all. I dropped to my knees and looked under the bed.

There it was, a lone earring that I had taken off last night thinking it hurt too much to sleep in. I reached for it. Sighing in relief, I stood up and checked the mirror, making sure I looked presentable for my flight back home. Idaho was nothing like Miami. Part of me couldn’t wait to get back to the quiet.

“Are you guys ready?” Rachel asked.

“I say we extend our trip another week,” Tara said. “I don’t want to go home.”

“Some of us have to get back to work,” I reminded her.

Tara stuck out her tongue. “All work and no play makes you all very boring.”

“I’m ready,” I said and pulled my sunglasses from my purse.

“Just think, when we get home, we’re going to be freezing our asses off.” Maddie sighed.

“Don’t remind me,” I muttered. “I better get my jacket out. Planes are always so damn cold. ”

We walked outside the hotel to wait for our Uber to take us to the airport. I moved to stand in the sun. I closed my eyes and smiled. I was going to miss the weather. Well, not the humidity. And I was a little bummed my brush with a really hot dude was over. It was over before it ever started. But that was how it was supposed to be. It was a Spring Break fling. My first and I was pretty certain my last. I didn’t regret a minute of it, but it was going to be impossible to forget him. It was unlikely I would find another man that lived up to the very high standard he set.

As the Uber pulled up and we loaded our suitcases, I couldn’t shake the image of Nikko’s face from my mind. All those hard edges were dangerous but that night I caught a glimmer of something softer. I was willing to bet that softer side was apparent when he thought no one was looking.

I climbed into the backseat and fixed my gaze on the passing scenery, trying to imprint the ocean and palm trees in my memory as a distraction.

Rachel nudged me, pulling me out of my reverie. “You good?”

“Yep, just thinking about what I need to do when I get home.”

The airport was wild. New arrivals were pouring in prepared to embark on their week of Spring Break fun. We navigated our way through the throngs of excited students and weary families. As we passed a group of young ladies laughing about their plans, a pang of jealousy shot through me. Their adventure was just beginning, while mine was closing.

An hour later, we were sitting in our seats.

We were barely off the runway when Tara decided to push the envelope, as always.

“Let’s see it,” she whispered dramatically, already peeling back the bandage on her arm.

“Tara!” I hissed. “Stop it.”

She was sitting beside me. Maddie and Rachel were seated directly across from us.

“What?” she said, feigning innocence. “It’s not like they’re going to turn the plane around and take me back to the tattoo parlor. Although that wouldn’t be the worst thing ever, right? You could see Mr. Hot Stuff.”

“If you get an infection at thirty-thousand feet, I’m not sure they’ll be able to turn that around either,” Maddie said from her seat across the aisle.

Tara rolled her eyes and pulled the bandage all the way off, revealing a dainty flower band around her upper arm. It was, admittedly, gorgeous. And didn’t look nearly as bad as I was expecting a fresh tattoo to look. Then again, she wasn’t as pale as I was. Nikko had warned me mine would look bad until my skin healed.

“Totally worth the risk,” Tara said. “I feel like such a bad ass. I think I might go back and get thorns on it. That would be even more bad ass.”

“It’s so pretty the way it is,” I said.

“Pretty isn’t the look I want. I want people to think I’m scary.”

I rolled my eyes. “You don’t need a tattoo for that.”

Rachel leaned in to admire it. “Okay, fine. I’m looking at mine too.”

“You guys!” I gasped. “No. You can’t. Did you not read the care instructions?”

“Me too,” Maddie said.

One by one, the bandages came off. Maddie’s apple looked 3D. It was very cool. Rachel showed off the scales on her inner wrist. They oohed and aahed over each other’s tattoos while I sat there, arms crossed, trying to ignore them.

“You’re not curious at all?” Rachel asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

“Nope,” I lied. “Nikko said to wait. I’m following the rules.”

“You’re such a good girl,” Tara teased, making a face. “Come on, Hannah. One little peek won’t hurt.”

“She’s right,” Maddie said. “It’ll be fine. I’ve seen people with hours’ old tattoos walking around. What’s the worst that can happen?”

“Just peek and you can put the bandage right back on.”

I bit my lip, glancing down at the bandage on my forearm. I really wanted to look. But I also wanted to follow Nikko’s instructions. The memory of his hands on me while he worked was still fresh, and as annoyed as I was about that, I also didn’t want to mess up his hard work. He looked like he was really trying to do a good job.

“Just do it,” Tara said, her grin wicked.

I sighed. “Fine. One peek. If it falls off, I’m blaming you. And if I get gangrene and die, I will haunt all of you. Peer pressure is not cool.”

“Just do it,” Rachel said.

The girls cheered softly as I carefully peeled back the edge of the bandage. My breath caught when I saw the tattoo. It was even more beautiful than I expected. The lines were so clean, the shading delicate. The roses had this soft, romantic quality, and the compass was?—

“Oh. My. God.”

“What?” Rachel asked, sitting up straighter.

“How dare he!” I whispered furiously, my voice shaking with outrage.

“What happened?” Tara leaned closer.

I turned my arm, pointing to the tiny detail in the corner of the tattoo. Two small letters, tucked into the vines of the rose.

NM.

The nerve.

“He put his initials on my arm!” I hissed, trying not to yell but failing spectacularly.

The heads of at least three rows of passengers turned to look at me. Rachel tried to shush me, but screw that.

“Who does he think he is?!” I said, my voice climbing higher. “What is this, the Wild West? Am I his cattle now?! He branded me!”

A flight attendant appeared out of nowhere, her smile strained. “Ma’am, is everything all right?”

“Everything is not all right!” I snapped. “I’ve been branded like a… like a…”

“A really fancy cow?” Tara offered helpfully .

The flight attendant blinked, clearly unsure how to handle the situation. “Would you like some water?”

“No, I would like this off my arm!” I said, pointing to the offending initials.

The attendant gave me a tight smile. “I’ll be right back.”

She hurried off, leaving my friends to stare at me in a mix of concern and amusement.

“Hannah, it’s not that big of a deal,” Maddie said, trying to calm me down.

“You can hardly see it,” Rachel offered.

“Not that big of a deal?” I shot back. “He put his name on me! Without asking! That’s a huge deal!”

“Technically, just his initials,” Tara said, holding up her hands. “Not his full name.”

“Oh, great. That’s so much better,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Rachel was biting her lip to keep from laughing. “I mean, it’s kind of sweet if you think about it. Like, he wanted to leave a little piece of himself behind.”

“I’ll leave a piece of him behind when I rip his dick off ,” I muttered.

The girls burst out laughing. The sound only fueled my indignation.

“This isn’t funny,” I insisted. “It’s creepy and possessive and—and?—”

“Hot?” Tara suggested.

I glared at her. “No.”

She smirked. “You hesitated.”

“Because I was trying to find a stronger word for no .”

“Oh, come on, Hannah,” Maddie said. “It’s not like anyone’s going to notice unless you point it out. And it’s not permanent.”

I raised an eyebrow at her.

“Okay, it’s permanent,” she admitted. “But still. It’s not the end of the world.”

“It’s the principle of the thing!” I said. “He didn’t even ask me! He just… he just did it! Who does that?! ”

“A very confident, very attractive tattoo artist who clearly had the night of his life,” Rachel said, winking at me. “You’ll have to give me some pointers. What voodoo did you do?”

My face flushed, but I refused to let them derail my righteous anger. “I don’t even know his last name.”

“I do,” Rachel said.

“How?”

She reached into her purse and pulled out a business card. “Nikko Malone. NM.”

“Great. I want you to sue him.”

She laughed. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“I’m going to ruin him,” I declared, crossing my arms. “If he thinks he can get away with this, he has another thing coming.”

Tara leaned back in her seat, grinning. “I think I like this side of you.”

“I’m serious,” I said. “When I get home, I’m going to figure out exactly how to make his life miserable.”

“Just make sure to keep us posted,” Maddie said.

“It’s not that bad,” Tara said.

“I have a stranger’s initials on my arm,” I hissed.

The flight attendant returned with a glass of water.

“Thanks,” I mumbled, realizing I might have overreacted just a tad.

“You need to make sure you marry a man with the same initials,” Maddie said. She actually sounded reasonable. “Then it won’t be so bad.”

“That is not the same,” I said. “I can’t narrow the field to men with NM initials. I can’t even think of names that start with N and don’t you dare say Nikko.”

“Nick,” Tara said. “Nate. Noah.”

“I have a student named Nash,” Maddie offered helpfully.

I rolled my eyes again. “That is not the point. The point is consent and boundaries,” I snapped, the frustration clear in my voice. “It’s about respecting someone enough to ask before marking their skin forever. ”

“Technically, you did sign a form,” Rachel pointed out gently.

“I thought it was a release form for the shop, not consent for him to tattoo whatever he wants!” My irritation bubbled up again as I recalled Nikko’s smile. It seemed charming at the time.

“If the form didn’t specifically mention personal branding, I would think that’s a case,” Maddie said.

I looked at her. She was totally teasing me. “Not helping,” I sighed. “It’s about the principle, Maddie. He should have at least told me what he was planning to do.”

I stared out the window, my emotions still swirling. Anger, embarrassment, something that felt suspiciously like attraction—all of it buzzing in my chest.

I looked down at the tattoo again, my eyes drawn to those tiny initials.

NM.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to punch him or kiss him.

Probably both.