But tonight, it feels more complicated than that.
What if North isn’t a direction?
What if it’s a person?
The sound of soft footsteps on stone breaks the spell. I don’t move.
A second later, Nolan’s voice carries over the divider, cautious, yet annoyingly smooth.
“Is this a ceasefire zone,” he asks, “or am I about to get taken out by a pool float and unresolved anger?”
I sigh. “What do you want?”
“I was walking on the beach. Thinking. Avoiding one of my coworker’s voices, which I’m convinced is a direct trigger for high blood pressure.” A pause. “Saw the lights. Took a chance.”
He steps into the edge of the glow from the patio lamp, shirtless.And yeah. So much for blood pressure. Mine spikes to a dangerous level.
His chest is composed of lean lines and muscle, like he was handcrafted by a very horny sculptor. Defined shoulders, abs that could deflect bullets, and a faint trail of hair leading below the waistband of swim trunks that are hanging on for dear life.
My brain cells scatter like pigeons at a firework show.
But what really undoes me—what fucks me up in ways I’m not ready for—is the tattoo over his heart.
A small constellation. Five fine-lined stars, etched in quiet permanence. It’s subtle. Intimate. A map only meant to be read up close.
I can’t stop staring because he’s not just marked by the stars—he carries their gravity. Their pull. And I’m already drifting toward him, terrified of what it means to follow someone that’s already burned me, when I wish he’d just lead me home.
“Can I join you?” he asks. “I promise to stay on my side of the truce line.”
My arms make circles in the water. “Not a good idea.”
He gives me a slow, lazy grin, that irresistible dimple popping out. “Pretty please…”
Why does he have to be adorable?
“…with sugar on top.”
“Fine,” I huff, shifting to one side of the water. “But if you cannonball, I’m calling security.”
Nolan steps in gently, his body moving with grace as he sinks down beside me. Water laps at the edges of the pool as we settle into silence.
For a while, all I hear is the distant song of cicadas, the occasional splash of water, and my own heartbeat ticking louder in my ears.
I steal another glance at him and at the ink over his heart. Before I can second-guess it, the words slip out, low and rough,“What's your tattoo mean?”
He glances down at his chest, like he almost forgot it was there. When he looks back at me, his smile is small, shy. A rare thing, for him.
“It’s not from the sky.” His fingers trail lightly across the surface of the water, breaking the reflection.
“I made it up. A long time ago.”
I tip my head, waiting. Not pushing. Not breathing, really.
He shrugs a little, the motion loose. “When I was younger, I used to think... if you couldn’t find yourself in the stars that already existed, you could just make new ones. A map nobody else had. A way to get home that only you would recognize.”
My chest tightens. Hard. That’s honestly one of the most beautiful and endearing things I’ve ever heard.
Nolan keeps going, voice so soft that the cicadas almost steal it away. “So I put five stars where I wanted them. One for who I was. One for who I thought I had to be. One for the people I lost. One for the people I hadn’t met yet. And one...” He pauses, the ghost of a smile curving his mouth. “One for the things I didn’t even know I was looking for.”
