Runaway Hearts

Rome’s POV

There’s a certain freedom in losing yourself in the speed, the havoc, the split-second decisions that could send you flying off your board or gliding smoothly across concrete. It’s the only time I don’t think. Skating through the city, dodging pedestrians and traffic, the buzz of the world muffled by the wind in my ears—I thrive on it. It’s the closest thing to control I have in a life that feels like it’s already been mapped out for me. Even if I know I’m living a borrowed existence.

I carve hard into a corner, the board wobbling under me for a second before I regain balance. Adrenaline surges, but it’s short-lived. The high never lasts long. Once the rush settles, the boredom creeps back in, a familiar, suffocating blanket. Same city. Same streets. Same faces. My family’s name hovers over me like an unwelcome shadow: Blackheart Industries, Rome Blackheart—the billionaire’s son who doesn’t give a damn about following the rules.

I stop at the edge of the skatepark, leaning back on my board, wiping the sweat off my forehead. Hudson is filming himself for his latest social media stunt, flipping his board like it’s nothing. Colton is a few feet away, sitting on a bench and scrolling through his phone, probably talking to some girl he’s working his game on. The day feels like it always does: loud, fast, and numb.

“Yo, Rome, you coming tonight?” Hudson shouts between takes, his voice muffled under the music blasting from the park speakers.

“Yeah. Why not?” I reply, pushing off the edge and coasting lazily toward him. It’s not like I have anything better to do. Parties are routine at this point—drink, laugh, mess around. Keep everything light. Keep it all meaningless.

I roll my eyes when my phone buzzes in my pocket. I already know it’s some girl from last night, texting to “see what’s up.” I ignore it and flip my board up, catching it in my hand. Another day, another party. Another nameless face.

By nightfall, we’re at Vertigo, the club that never stops pulsing. The flashing lights, the pounding bass, the half-drunk strangers spilling drinks—it’s chaos, but it’s the kind of chaos I’ve mastered. Everyone around me is too wasted to see through the act, but I’m in control. Always in control.

We have our usual spot in the VIP section, surrounded by models and influencers, girls who’ve made a career out of looking like they’re having the time of their lives. Some of them are hanging on Hudson, laughing too loud at his jokes. Others throw glances at me, hoping I’ll give them the time of day. I could pick any one of them tonight, but my mind is elsewhere. Detached.

I take a sip of my drink, letting the alcohol burn its way down, but it doesn’t do much. It never does. I watch Colton flirt with a redhead at the bar, his charm working like clockwork, and I laugh under my breath. Same story. Different faces. I lean back in the booth, the world spinning in predictable patterns, and let my eyes drift over the crowd.

That’s when I see her.

She stands out like a piece of art in a room full of knock-offs. Long, wild black curls, the kind that make you want to wrap your hands in them. Her skin gleams under the lights, and her curves are dangerous—natural, unapologetic. She’s dressed like she doesn’t care what anyone thinks, rocking a punk-hippie vibe with a cropped black top that clings to her body, showing off the tattoos crawling over her smooth skin. Ripped jeans hug her hips, and she’s got piercings in places that make me wonder what else I haven’t seen.

Fuck.

I’m not one to get caught off guard, but there’s something about her—this girl who looks like she’s walked straight out of a dream and into the middle of my night. I lean back in the booth, letting my eyes drink her in. She doesn’t even know I’m watching her. Doesn’t care.

I can feel the heat in my blood rising, slow and steady, as I imagine what it’d be like to have her. I’m not talking about love or any of that bullshit. No, this is lust. Pure, raw desire. She’s like a piece of cake you know you shouldn’t want, but damn if you don’t crave a taste.

She’s standing with her friend, laughing at something. I notice the way her lips curl, soft but sharp. The way her hazel eyes—deep with flecks of gold—catch the lights. She’s got that laid-back confidence, like she doesn’t need anyone’s approval. Like she knows she’s the hottest thing in the room and couldn’t care less about it.

I can feel the pull already. I want her. I want to know what those tattoos look like up close. What she sounds like when I’ve got her pinned under me.

Colton glances up from his girl and follows my gaze, smirking when he sees who I’m looking at. “You thinking about making a move, or just staring all night?”

I don’t answer right away, just keep my eyes on her. “Maybe.”

“She’s hot,” he says, shrugging like it’s nothing. “Go for it, man.”

Go for it. It’s never that simple. Sure, I could go over there, flash her a smile, throw out a line that’d have her melting in my hands. I’ve done it a million times before. But something about her makes me pause. Not hesitation—more like anticipation. Like I want to draw this out, savor the moment before the plunge.

She shifts her weight, turning slightly, and for the briefest second, her eyes lock on mine. It’s a flicker, a glance, nothing more, but it’s enough to light something inside me. She doesn’t smile. Doesn’t look away like she’s nervous. She just looks at me—cool, confident, and completely unfazed.

And now, I’m hooked.

Colton’s voice pulls me out of the trance. “You’re actually into this one, huh?”

I scoff, leaning back in the booth and running a hand through my hair. “She’s just another girl.”

But I know I’m lying.

Hudson slides in next to me, glancing over at her, then back at me with that knowing grin. “She’s with Hana, I think. From design class.”

Design class. Makes sense. She’s got that look—creative, different, not trying too hard, but effortlessly standing out. And I want to be the one who stands out to her.

“Go talk to her,” Hudson says, nudging me.

I don’t move. I’ve got time. I want to watch her a little longer. Feel the anticipation build. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’m going to make her mine tonight.

She moves to the bar, her friend trailing behind, and I follow her with my eyes. I imagine my hands on her hips, pulling her close, feeling the heat between us. She’d look at me with those sharp, hazel eyes, daring me to go further.

The brunette from earlier slips into the booth beside me, pressing her body against mine. I barely register it. She’s already old news, a placeholder in the night’s game.

Because all I want is the girl at the bar.

I don’t even know her name, but it doesn’t matter. Tonight, I’ll get more than just a taste.

And by morning, she’ll be gone like the rest.