Page 97 of Hunger & Harmony

“Let me know if you see anything you like. We’ve got an opening.”

She wanders away, giving us space. I glance up at Niko, our bodies huddled as we flip through designs.

“See anything?” I ask, and he hums.

“Not really.” He nudges me gently. “Do you?”

“Me?” I shake my head. “No, no, I’m not getting a tattoo.”

He chuckles gently.

“Why not? I thought you liked adventure.”

“But that’s permanent,” I say, idly flipping through the pages. “That’s different.”

“Ah.” He nods. “Of course.”

I don’t know why, but it’s embarrassing to say that. Like I’m childish and can’t handle commitment. I want my cake and to eat it free of any consequences.

My ears burn. Isn’t that kind of what brought us to this point?

“Well . . .”

I nudge the book away, flipping one last time before I close it.

“Anyways, we should⁠—”

My words die in my throat when I see it.

The design isn’t loud or as stylistic as some of the others beside it. In fact, it’s delicate; the fine lines create a tiny butterfly. It’s mid-flight, wings spread and antenna forward as it heads left.

“Adorable . . .” I murmur, leaning in closer.

“You are,” Niko says, and I gasp.

“Hey, I’m not actually considering it.”

His laughter sounds before he leans closer, his body pressed into my right side.

“Which one?”

With him right next to me, it’s like the last piece of a puzzle slotting everything into place. We’re bound to each other, so why does he feel like freedom?

I huff a little.

“I’m not gonna point it out because I’m not getting it.”

“That’s the first step of getting a tattoo: denial.”

“You’re making that up,” I say with a laugh, rolling my eyes when his arm settles around me.

“Just show me.”

Caving, I rest my finger over the butterfly. His hand falters on my shoulder, and I glance over at him.

“What?” I ask. “I think it’s cute. Minimalism and all that.”

“Yeah,” he says, and I spot how wide his eyes are behind the shaded lenses. “You like it?”