Page 6 of Bloom: Part 1

Who do I go to now? I have no one.

Lubdub. Lubdub.

The room sounded overly loud. Everyone had someone—laughing and chatting. I’d never wanted to curl into a ball moreand disappear. How long before anyone even noticed I was gone?

Bay had Gerald.

Crowe had Max.

Saint had Dove.

Even Winter had coke as his mistress.

And I… I had no one.

Nothing…

I twisted the spiky ring on my finger and jabbed it into the wrist of my other hand, twisting until the sting was unbearable. Blood trickled from the wound.

If you don’t like the way something is going, Bloom, you have the power to change it. You can control your narrative.The voice of Saint’s mother echoed in my head, providing a blanket of calm to ease the panic that had set in my bones.

I could make a new friend, couldn’t I? I glanced around the room, but no one paid me any mind. Why would they want to be friends with me, especially when I’d pissed off so many?

Maybe Max’s friends…but we were so different. They were all pretty, smiley boys who talked about clothes, sex, makeup, and their men. My makeup was limited to a grunge look, and I’d sooner break my legs than shake my ass the way they did when they danced.

I didn’t dance. Period.

No, the boys wouldn’t work. Besides, they had each other already, plus their partners. Why would they be bothered with me?

Maybe a friend wasn’t the way to go. They all fell in love and moved on. What I needed was a man in my life too. Someone who I could label as mine. A man who solely belonged to me. A man who would never leave me, never get tired of my crap, and never called me a child. A man devoted to me.

Sweet Lucifer, I wanted that. I wanted it so badly.

I stood from the bar stool, ignoring the throbbing that raced up and down my arm. If they were all going to fall in love and forget about me, then who needed them? I’d show Saint I could have a life too. Then maybe when they needed me, I would be too busy.

See how they’ll like that.

But where to find the kind of man who would want to please only me?

1

BLOOM

How rude!

If you sent a guy a nude picture, the least he could do was respond with a thank-you, right? From the blue ticks, Dr. Collier had read my message—messages. Unsure which was my good side, I’d taken several shots from different angles—draped on the bed, against the wall. Hell, I’d even been on all fours on the cold floor buck naked. He could have at least given me credit for that one. Did he know the contortion that went into arching my back and still getting that perfect shot?

But nothing.

Because I couldn’t decide which one of the pics to send him, I’d sent them all. Eight photos in total of me wearing nothing but my tattoos and piercings.

I tossed the phone onto the bed and picked up my “Solitude Suits Me” long-sleeve oversized black shirt. I wasn’t used to taking pictures of myself. None of the bikers did that sort of thing, and they’d raised me. But I’d seen their boys sending them provocative photos, so I’d figured men must like that type of stuff. In the one I’d glimpsed on Crowe’s phone, Max had onlybeen wearing the expensive faux fur Crowe had bought him for his last birthday.

Did Dr. Collier like fur? Maybe I should try that one next.

I huffed a breath and stepped into my black cargo pants. How could he not like any of my photos? The whole thing had started as gross. I thought maybe he’d liked them, and he would see what I had to offer, but he’d ignored them. Again. Damn that man.

Fuck, I wanted him to like my photos.

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