Page 7 of Bloom

Yet a certain someone’s business card kept burning a hole in my wallet.

I knew it was in there. I could feel it like an invisible burr. A splinter, even.

The man with the perfect name and the kind eyes. The man who stopped time with every burst of laughter. The man who touched my arm, looked me right in the eye and told me I deserved better.

Keats McCulloch.

What kind of ridiculously fancy pants name was that?

I had his card, his number, and I knew where he worked.

What I didn’t know was if he was in any way inclined to dick me—not that I was looking—and what I also didn’t know was why I couldn’t get him out of my head.

Yes, you do know. You just don’t want to admit it.

I threw back my vodka and lime, not for any other reason than to shut my inner monologue up.

Eye contact.

He’d held eye contact like a heat-seeking missile, locked and loaded, like he had absolutely nothing to hide.

Any man in this bar couldn’t hold eye contact for two seconds without looking away, looking for someone else, looking for an excuse to bail.

Jason could never hold eye contact, not even for a second, and now I knew why.

He was always hiding something and afraid I’d see the truth.

Keats Perfect-Name McCulloch never looked away once. In fact, it was me who had to look away. I felt scrutinised...

No, I felt seen.

Seeing Cory was now firmly latched on to some huge Arab guy—his very favourite kind—I knew he was five minutes away from leaving, so I beat him to it. I weaved my way through the crowd, only having to peel two slimy hands from my arse along the way, and came up behind Cory.

His dancing partner seemed to think his luck had changed for the better when I put my hands on Cory’s hips. “I’m going home,” I yelled over the music. “Be good, and call me tomorrow.”

He let his head drop back onto my shoulder and laughed, grinding his dick against Mr Huge’s crotch.

“Wanna join us?” the guy asked. “I can service both of you.”

Service.

Once upon a time, I’d have found that funny, maybe even considered his offer.

But not anymore.

“No thanks,” I said. “Service him twice instead.”

Cory laughed. “Love you, Linden.”

I smacked his arse, making him groan like the little slut he was, and I left him to it. The night was still young. It was a warm spring night. Happy people filled the streets, and normallyI’d have kicked on. Maybe found an alfresco restaurant on the waterfront.

But all I wanted to do tonight was to go home.

I wanted to have a hot shower and scrub the nightclub off me, maybe watch some TV, or just go straight to bed.

It wasn’t like me.

Well, it wasn’t like theoldme, but the been-cheated-on me wasn’t interested in any of this shit anymore. I just wanted to go home.

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