1987. Nikki lived in shades of cool—his green eyes, rugged attitude, and magnetic pull of his chaotic world. He loved many things: his music, his drugs, and his women—too many women. To him, you were one of those many women. But for you, he wasn’t just another fleeting romance; he was everything. You knew your love for him was unreturned in the way you needed, yet you always answered when he called. Deep down, though, you knew that Nikki was unfixable, unbreakable, and as much as you wished otherwise, you knew you could never change him.

Tonight was no different. You sat in front of your vanity, applying your lipstick with a careful hand, even though you knew it would smudge once the night was through. You knew how the night would go. You’d climb into his car, the smell of smoke and leather clinging to the air as he drove around aimlessly through the city streets, telling you things that felt so close to love they almost convinced you. But once the night went on, it always ended back in his room to share another intense night of passion—tangled in his sheets, knowing you were right where so many others had been.

The familiar sound of tires crunching on the gravel outside pulled you from your thoughts. Peering out the window, you saw Nikki leaning against his Chevrolet Malibu—headlights cutting through the darkness and a cigarette dangling from his lips while a half-smirk played on his face. And just like every time before, you grabbed your coat and purse before heading out.

"Hey, gorgeous," Nikki commented as you slid into the passenger seat. For a brief moment, as he looked over with that grin.