Page 78 of Bloom: Part 1

I sprang away from Bloom. A dark-haired young man stared at us wide-eyed. Dammit, there were way too many people here. How would I remember all their names?

“Max,” Bloom said breathlessly. “Is Crowe here?”

“No.” Max glanced at me, then back at Bloom. “You’re bringing someone into your room?”

“Yeah. This is Logan…my…” He looked at me as if seeking permission.

“Boyfriend.”

Bloom grinned. “Yeah. My boyfriend.”

“Hot damn. Jamie won the bet! Jamie won the bet!” Max grabbed his phone and ran along the hall.

“What was that about?”

Bloom shrugged. “I guess they made a bet about us.”

“Is that common?”

“It’s a biker club. Lots of gambling goes on, and now our love life seems to have made its way into the betting pool. I guess we’re the new entertainment.”

“Can’t say I’ve ever been used as a bet.”

Bloom unlocked the padlock and removed the chains from the door. “You’re not mad, are you? I can get them to stop.”

“Nah, it’s harmless fun.”

“Yeah, the boys aren’t any threat. They just like to have a good time.”

“And you?”

“What about me?”

“Don’t you hang out with them?”

Bloom entered the dark bedroom and flicked on the light. “No. I don’t think I fit in with them.”

“Why do you—holy shit.”

Bloom’s room was a gothic paradise. The room was small, but he’d utilized the space to showcase his style. The walls, painted a deep charcoal, served as a stark backdrop to several posters from iconic bands like The Cure and Bauhaus. Their monochrome images blended seamlessly into the room’s aesthetic. A single window, draped with a heavy black velvet curtain, barely let any light in, enhancing the somber atmosphere. The canopy bed looked like something straight out of an Edgar Allan Poe’s tale, draped with black lace and silk. An assortment of crystals, mostly obsidian and black tourmaline, were showcased on floating shelves.

On the night table to the left stood a striking lamp that seemed like a relic from another era. The metalwork base boasted a baroque influence with its flourishes and curving lines. The lampshade was dark red with black lace overlaying the fabric. It reminded me of Bloom: tough but delicate. A half-burned candle in a claw-footed holder and more gemstones were on the other night table. Against one wall, a full-length mirror stood next to a black lacquer-finished dresser with skulls adorning the top and jewelry draped on a skeletal branch. Pushed in the corner was a black vanity desk bearing a makeup box resembling a coffin.

“Wow.” I stepped farther into the room, my eyes wide as I drank in every inch of Bloom’s decor. “Your taste is…incredibly specific.”

When he didn’t respond, I turned around. Bloom was chewing on his bottom lip and pulling on his shirt. Was he…worried I wouldn’t like it? “Do you think it’s weird?”

“It’s different, but it suits you.”

He released his lip and smiled. “All right. Let me throw some stuff into a bag.”

While Bloom flittered around the room, gathering clothes and whatever he needed, I ran my fingers lightly over the black velvet curtain, the material cool beneath my touch.

“You have a private bathroom?” I hadn’t expected that, given several people lived in the clubhouse.

“Yeah, not all the rooms have one, but the newly built ones we added when we moved to Smoky Vale all have their own.”

I slowly turned the doorknob.

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