Page 85 of Bloom: Part 1

I already had a club in mind—one I’d only been to once for drinks. Since it wasn’t far, we set off on foot. The night was beautiful, the air fresh, the moonlight serene, and the guy on my arm even more so.

Though I wasn’t a regular, I got us inside quickly by flashing way more money at the bouncer than anyone had a right to spend to enter a club. Once upon a time, my name would have been enough to get me into places like this.

The Collier name didn’t have much clout, but that was how I preferred it.

As we walked through the door, my hand resting on Bloom’s hip, the loud music hit us, pulsating with the flashing neon lights. For a few seconds, I stood there and let memories wash over me. Memories of a younger me dancing,carefree, charming, and cocky, flitted through my mind—the breathlessness of laughter, the heady rush of alcohol, and bodies pressing and swaying in rhythm.

But that was another lifetime.

Someone bumped against me hard, jostling me out of my reverie. Bloom scowled at the man, but I tightened my grip on his hip.

“Do you want to go to the bar or find a booth?” I asked loudly to be heard over the music.

“The bar is fine.”

I nodded, leading him toward the bar. The crowd was thick but navigable. Halfway through, Bloom clutched my arm, a flicker of uneasiness crossing his face.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he shouted. “Thought I saw someone I knew.”

At the bar, I flagged down the bartender and ordered whiskey on the rocks for me and a virgin mojito for Bloom.

We surveyed the crowded dance floor while we sipped our drinks. The floor was pulsing with life, bodies moving rhythmically to the heavy bass thumping through the speakers. Rainbow strobes swept over the crowd, illuminating faces flushed from dancing and alcohol.

Bloom's gaze was fixed on the dance floor, his brow furrowed as if analyzing their movements. I appreciated how the neon lights cast shifting shadows on his face, highlighting his delicate features.

“We can wait till it’s less crowded before we get out there.”

“I don’t want to make an ass out of myself.”

“It’s just dancing and having a good time. No one cares. No one expects you to be a professional.” I winked at him. “Just shake that sexy little ass, and you’re good.”

Color flooded Bloom’s cheek. “I don’t shake my ass.”

I laughed, the alcohol loosening my inhibitions and, with it, the persona I’d become. A little of the old me snuck back in. Before the night ended, I wanted—no, I needed—to feel his body moving against mine while we were dancing.

When the dance floor looked less crowded, I tugged on Bloom’s arm. “That’s our cue.”

“Oh, boy.” But he followed me into the throng of thrusting bodies, his face split in a grin. I loved seeing him this way—unconcerned and happy. This was the version he was supposed to be, but people crushed that spirit and forced him into becoming the boy who fought to protect himself from people. But he’d let me in. I didn’t deserve it, but since he had, I wouldn’t disappoint him.

The deejay was playing a pulsing electronic track. As we drifted into the crowd, the vibrations of the beat resonated through me, the rhythm pressing against my bones and seeping into my blood.

A familiarity crept over me. The sound of the bass, the heat of bodies in motion, the scent of sweat and cologne mixed with smoke brought back a carefree spirit I hadn’t felt in ten years. For the first time in a long while, I wasn’t thinking about the hospital and how much work I had to do. All that would be there in the morning. My mind was on Bloom as I placed my hands on his hips.

I smiled at him encouragingly, pulling him closer. Our eyes met and held. In the flashing lights, I saw apprehension in his eyes. But he didn't pull away. Instead, he stepped closer, erasing any space between us.

I swayed, allowing myself to feel the swell of the music and let it command my movements.

“Move, baby,” I said directly into his ear. His back was to my chest, and I desperately wanted him to grind against me. Hedidn’t think he could, but from the way he came alive when we had sex, he had it in him. He just needed to let go.

Slowly Bloom moved, no longer rigid and hesitant. The music transitioned into a pulsing remix of some old pop song. The throbbing bass served as our heartbeat — erratic, vibrant, alive. He glanced back at me with uncertainty, and I nodded.

I raised my hands, gently guiding his arms to follow the rhythm. He mimicked my lead, nodding to the beat, letting the music seep into his senses. I leaned forward, pressing my body closer to him. Heat crackled wherever we touched, sending tremors through me. He let his head fall back against my chest, revealing the expanse of his neck. I moved my hand from his waist to splay across his chest over the rapid thump of his heart.

He turned, his eyes bright under the flashing strobes. It was an amazing sight—my guarded, reticent Bloom embracing the music and discovering an unseen part of himself that he didn’t even know existed.

Soon, Bloom was dancing more naturally, swaying his body in an imperfect rhythm, which felt perfect against me.

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