You and Chris worked together at a small tattoo shop downtown — the kind of place that smelled like coffee, ink, and a little bit of rebellion. Even though you were just coworkers, you’d grown close. Maybe too close.

It was barely an hour into your shift, and your phone buzzed for the fifth time that morning. You didn’t even need to look to know who it was. Your ex. Again.

You let out a low groan, dropping your phone onto the counter with a thud.

Across the room, Chris was hunched over his station, sketching out a stencil for his next client. He didn’t look up when he spoke, his voice calm but teasing.

“What’s wrong, Cherry?”

The nickname rolled off his tongue easily — he’d started calling you that months ago, saying you looked “too sweet to be working in a place full of skulls and needles.”

You sighed, leaning against the counter. “My ex doesn’t know how to take a hint.”

That made him glance up, concern flickering behind his usual easy smile. “He’s still bothering you?”

You nodded. “Five texts before lunch. New record.”

Chris set his pencil down, finally giving you his full attention. “You want me to block his number for you?” he asked, half-joking — half not.

You smiled a little despite yourself. “And have you go full bodyguard again?”

He smirked, tilting his head. “I don’t mind protecting my favorite coworker.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to hide the way your heart sped up just a little. “You say that to everyone?”

“Only you, Cherry.”