Page 3 of Shadows in Bloom

When the song comes to a close and the crowd cheers, I blink through the glaring, neon lights of the stage, catching sight of Rhett with his arms wrapped around his fiancé. His face is stony, per usual, but Dominik’s is alight with joy. Everett lowers his head against Dom’s shoulder to speak directly into his ear, and the smirk that tugs on the corners of Dominik’s mouth has me glancing away quickly, feeling like an intruder.

After a minute, I bump my elbow into Rhett’s side. He glances over, so I lean in. “I’m gonna go get another drink. Do you want anything?” He shakes his head before I’ve finished, eyes darting toward Dominik, who rolls his eyes.

“You know you can drink around me. I’m not that fucking fragile.”

Rhett grins, but it’s sinister. “Don’t I fuckin’ know it, beauty.” He does something with his other hand that I can’t see, but Dominik yelps, and I’m pretty sure he’s blushing. I grimace and turn away, muttering under my breath as I maneuver between bodies to the line for the bar. My arms cross over my chest as I look around, almost subconsciously scanning the crowd. It’s not intentional but more of a habit than anything now.

And this place is fucking packed. I’m sure the owners, Jaxon and Leo, are happy with the turnout for the opening of their venue.

Sweat and alcohol permeate the air, and I subtly breathe through my mouth as the line creeps forward, grimacing at the vast array of scents. I mean, honestly, do people not wear fucking deodorant?

Knuckles rap on the wooden bar top, pulling me out of my reverie. “What can I get you?”

“Shit, my bad.” I step forward, shoving my hands in my front pockets. “Can I get a vodka cranberry?” I catch a flash of a bright, white tank top as the bartender reaches for a bottle and flips it to pour into a plastic cup. My eyes travel up the length of her tattooed arm, cast in different colors from the stage lights.

My brows furrow at their familiarity. And then, I look up.

Fiona is staring back at me, equally dumbfounded, the bottle of vodka hanging loosely from her fingers. My jaw falls slack as my heart kick-starts in my chest. “Fiona?” I ask dumbly when it’s so fucking obviously her.

The woman I’ve wanted for fucking years. The one I sought out at least three times a week, if only to see her smile from where I sat across the bar, too fucking chicken-shit to say anything.

Fiona was the only person who made me think it might be worth it, who made me feel like I might finally be able to say “fuck that” to the ideals my family shoved down my throat my entire life.

But then, Rhett moved, and shit fell apart when I realized I was so fucking alone. And not long after he left, I got the job offer here in Portland, so I took it for what it was—a new start. I thought—hoped—that in a new place, further away from where it was all so complicated, I could let go. That it would be easier.

Turns out that was a fucking joke because now, I’m staring my past in the face. My failures, my regrets.

Fiona. The embodiment of who and what I’ve wanted.

“Jamie,” Fiona returns, eyes wide with shock as they dart around the room behind me. I follow their path, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, but when I come up empty, I step forward, pressing against the edge of the counter.

“Are you all right?” I ask genuinely. Fiona’s chest is rising and falling rapidly, and her dark brown eyes are naturally large, but they’re far too wide in this moment to be normal. She shakes her head slightly, hands trembling in front of her.

Frowning, I lean over the bar, waving my hand to get the attention of one of her colleagues. When some guy walks over, I tell him, “Fiona’s not doing well. Can she take a break?” He looks like he’s about to protest, but when he sees the state she’s in, he nods.

“You know this girl, Fiona?”

Fiona nods, and his lips curl. “All right.” He concedes. “Ten minutes, okay?”

“T-thanks, Tom.” And without looking back, she rushes out behind him. I frown and follow to where I saw her disappear, slipping through the smallest gaps between bodies. When I get to the back, I notice a door leading to an outdoor patio, so I push through, releasing a breath when I see Fiona leaning against the wall, a cigarette between her lips as she cups her hands to light the end.

My sweaty face stings as I step out into the cool, night air. Fiona doesn’t even look up at the sound of my boots on the concrete, but I notice the way they scan her periphery. I swallow through the lump in my throat, managing to choke out a pathetic, “Don’t wanna see me that bad?”

When I’m met with silence, I follow it with a weak chuckle, my face burning with embarrassment. My sweaty hands find my front pockets as I lean against the brick wall, a solid three feet away. I glance over, following the curve of her lips and down the slope of her tattooed throat, which glistens with sweat in the lamppost lights. Forcing my gaze to the brick wall in front of us, I catch the smoke curling in my peripheral, the scent burning its way through my nostrils.

“It’s not that,” Fiona says after a few minutes of intense silence. I want to ask her what she means, but I can’t. My instincts are telling me something’s wrong. Or… maybe not wrong, but it isn’t right. Different.

But I can’t ask, can I? We don’t really know each other anymore—or at all.

I feel her eyes on me. Following the line of my jaw, the small tilt of her head as she looks down my body, at my clothes. My hands fist in my jeans as I look too, sorely disappointed in myself for not trying harder to look better.

My blue jeans and old band tee seemed fitting earlier, but standing next to Fiona with her tight, ripped pants and fitted tank top, her flawless face and perfectly curled hair, I feel inadequate. Like I don’t look anywhere near good enough to be standing next to her.

And I just know if someone were to look out at us in this moment, they’d see my inadequacy, too.

“I just didn’t expect to see anyone I knew here.” My eyes flutter closed of their own volition as her raspy voice finds its way into my brain. I drop my head back against the brick before turning to face her.

“It is a big city,” I concur. “How long have you been here?”

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