Page 96 of Hunger & Harmony

His hands come up to my face, and I blink when he slides off my sunglasses. When he takes off his own disguise, I’m hit with the force of how gorgeous he is. Burgundy eyes linger on mine, and I’m suddenly so shy to stand face-to-face with him.

He doesn’t have to be done up in leather and eyeliner. There’s no need for his crown or the finest fabrics. Just a baseball cap and the random navy jacket I found for him are enough.

I shouldn’t do this to myself. He just looks so soft in the shadows of this boardwalk.

“This time is borrowed,” he says, and my heart squeezes. “But this is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

His gaze lowers to my lips, and I instinctively lean towards him. He’s still holding our silly disguises, and his hands flex like he wants to drop them. Maybe I want that, too.

“I’m glad,” I say, fidgeting my fingers. “Happy birthday, Niko.”

He’s grinning so hard, it’s making me smile.

“Thank you.”

This moment lingers between us, as delicate as the cotton candy spinning down the path. If only we could bottle this feeling. This pure joy with no audience, no Court, and no expectations. I feel it written over my heart, and as I stare into his eyes, none of those things matter.

“Is . . .” I swallow hard, needing to get a hold of myself. “Is there, uh . . .”

Call it a red string of fate, or just the magic of the moment, but we’re drawing closer. My hands find his chest, and his lips are only a breath away from mine.

“Is there . . .?” he hums, tone dangerously teasing.

“Niko,” I whisper, swept up in his cologne again.

My eyes flutter closed, and I hold onto his shirt as he leans in.

A loud jingling breaks the spell. Niko pauses, and I pull back, flustered as I search for the source of that noise.

“O-Oh,” I say, gesturing lamely to the door that just opened a few feet from us. “A tattoo studio.”

“Huh.”

When he slides my sunglasses on for me, it’s painfully intimate, and not even the November breeze can cool my face.

“Wanna go in, cherry cheeks?”

I pause.

“Go in? And get a tattoo?” I ask. “For you or me?”

“Either of us?” He shrugs. “Let’s see if there’s anything we like.”

He slides on his disguise again, and before I can answer, he’s walking towards the door. A neon sign indicates it’s open, even at this hour. Walk-ins are welcome, too.

“Just like that?” I ask, jaw dropping when he disappears into the shop. “H-Hey!”

I hurry in after him. The sharp scent of disinfectants and ink hit me, and I cough into my scarf as I take it all in.

I’ve never stepped foot in a tattoo parlor, but it’s obvious he has. Niko looks in his element, already browsing the displayed art and eclectic knick-knacks. Bold, colorful posters crowd the red walls, and the buzz of machines blends with laughter.

“Hey there,” the woman behind the counter greets, grinning at us as we approach. “Too cool for the dark?”

She laughs good-naturedly, and it eases my initial worry. We do look pretty ridiculous, but she slides over a thick binder with no other comment.

“Walk-ins at this hour are only flash appointments.” She opens it up, and I marvel at the various designs she flips through. “Basically, ready-made designs with set prices.”

I lean on the counter, getting a better look. Her purple nail taps on a random sheet.