The first thing I saw was the shirt. “Big Dick is Back in Town.”

Caught me mid-sip of my green juice, nearly choked on it. Wasn’t exactly something you could just ignore. She walked like she owned the place—like every cracked sidewalk slab was part of her runway. Black micro shorts barely holding together, black fur boots that definitely weren’t made for the sand but somehow worked on her.

And then I saw the tattoo.

Not the obvious kind. No giant band logos or song lyrics. Just five small arrows inked delicately across her wrist—familiar in a way that sent a pang through my chest. One arrow had a halo and wings. Liam’s symbol. Christ, it’d been years since I’d seen that design. A deep cut. Something only the real ones knew.

That’s what made me pause. That… and the fact that she was sitting on the low wall outside a surf rental shop like a scene ripped out of a fever dream.

She was tiny—barely five feet—but didn’t feel small. Long black hair parted down the middle, lashes like blades, that dark liner smudged in a way that said intentional chaos. Septum ring catching the last bit of sun. Her eyes—grey blue, with flecks of hazel when the light hit—glimmered like she was in on something.

I don’t usually do this. I keep to myself. Especially in places like this.

But something about her made it feel like the universe had given me a very specific nudge.

So I walked over. Slowly. Hands in my pockets. Trying not to look like a man twice her size with too much history wrapped in mystery.

“Hey,” I started, voice lower than usual, softened by the sea air. “Sorry if this is random, but—your wrist.”

She looked up at me, expression unreadable. But her eyes sparkled. Not in a fangirl way. More like… amusement. Mischief. Maybe curiosity. She knew who I was. That much was obvious. I recognized the flicker of recognition. But she played it cool.

I nodded toward the tattoo. “The five arrows. One with the halo. That’s Liam’s, yeah?”

She didn’t answer right away, and I liked that.

“I haven’t seen one of those in a long time. Most people either forget or hide it.” I chuckled. “You’re not most people, though, are you?”

She tilted her head slightly, lips curled in the faintest smirk. Still no words. Just that knowing glint.

“I’m Harry,” I added, with a small grin, even though we both knew it wasn’t necessary. “But I’m guessing you figured that out.”

The silence stretched for just a beat too long.

And I found myself wanting to sit beside her. Wanting to know what kind of person wears that shirt in public and tattoos memories of a boyband on her skin like they’re holy.

Maybe it was reckless. Maybe I liked that it was.