Bloom (19 page)

Chapter 43

James is leaning
against the bar, looking more unhappy than I’ve ever seen him. He turns without a word when I find him and heads outside.

My anger comes to a head. What possible right does he have to be mad when
I’m
the one getting jerked around?

When I come to a dead stop just outside the door, he rounds on me, his face so angry and so hurt that it shocks me into silence.

“Are you getting back together with him?” he asks. The words are clipped and tight. The rage in his voice makes me remember my own.

“Why do you care?” I seethe. “You and I are only friends, right?”

“We were never just friends,” he says, that muscle ticking in his jaw. “So answer the question.”

“Why should I?” I retort. “You act like it doesn’t matter what happens when I go back to school, so how could it possibly matter now?”

“Do I look like someone who it doesn’t fucking matter to?” he hisses. “You spend 24 hours not speaking to me and then I have to watch that bullshit between you and your ex-boyfriend, and now you won’t even tell me if you’re with him?”

“And you’ve spent weeks treating me like some temporary hook-up. You don’t even want to sleep with me for Christ’s sake so why do you … ”

“Don’t
want
to?” he exclaims incredulously. “I’ve never wanted anything more in my life! Do you have any idea how much restraint it required not to?”

“I don’t want your restraint!” I explode. “I never did. You want some fling you don’t have to feel guilty about? Fine. But don’t for one second act like you held back on my behalf!”

“A fling? Are you fucking kidding me?” he shouts. Heads turn but he either doesn’t notice or care. “Is that what you think? Is that the person you think I am?”

“What else am I supposed to think? And it doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. It just means you’re a person who doesn’t feel the right way about me.”

“You’re right!” he yells. “I
don’t
feel the right way about you! That’s the problem. I should see you as a 19-year-old who needs to get through the next three years of college without me ruining it. But I don’t. I can’t. I’ve tried so damned hard and you just make it all harder.”

“Make what harder?” I breathe.

“You make it impossible to walk away. And I should, because you deserve to have the whole college experience without me hovering and getting jealous and wanting to keep you from all the shit you’re supposed to do.”

“We’ll only be four hours apart,” I argue. “You won’t be keeping me from anything.”

“Yes, I will. If you’re visiting me, you’re missing stuff at school. And imagine me visiting you — are you really gonna want to bring your 25-year-old boyfriend to a frat party? To an underage club? I’m going to ruin it for you.”

“I don’t care!” I cry. “I don’t care about any of that. I’d give up every single stupid college thing to be with you.”

He cages me in with his arms against the wall, his forehead pressed to mine. “So does this mean you’re not getting back together with Ryan? Because I already knew tonight, when he was singing to you, that I wasn’t going to be able to give you up. So please tell me you’re not back with him.”

“I told him no,” I whisper.

With a groan of relief he finds my mouth, greedy and demanding in a way he’s never been before, as his hands tug at my hair. His weight pins me to the wall, stealing my breath, and I welcome it. I want him to press into me until I’m crushed and consumed, until the two of us are so intermingled we can’t be separated.

“I missed you so much last night,” he says, his mouth against my neck. His teeth tug at my earlobe and I release a small, shuddering sigh. I arch into him, thrill at the low growl in his throat, the way his hands slide inside my dress.

He breaks away suddenly.

“Elle,” he says, his breathing harsh. “I really don’t want our first time to be in an alley, but I’m about 10 seconds away from not caring. So I think you’d probably better get in the car.”

We make the drive in exactly three minutes. It has to be a record. I’m only beginning to open my door when it swings open and he’s there, pulling me from my seat, pressing me to the side of the car, kissing me like we’ve been apart for a year. Before I’ve even caught my breath he’s pulling me toward the house, flinging the door to his room open and slamming it behind him.

He drops to his knees in front of me, shoving my dress around my waist, pushing my thong to the side and then he’s there and though I wanted other things from him it feels so unbelievable that I can’t stop him.

My body tenses as I wait for him to increase the pace and pressure, but instead he pulls away.

“No,” I argue weakly but he ignores me, pushing me on the bed and climbing toward me while he unzips his shorts.

He hooks his hands beneath my knees to get me flat on my back, and with one finger pulls the thong down and sends it flying somewhere behind him. He leans over me, his stubble scraping my jaw, his breath against my ear. I arch against him, where he rests between my legs, seeking contact, needing something more, and hear the air hiss between his teeth.

“James,” I pant. “Please.”

Wordlessly he thrusts inside me, and my body bows off the bed with a moan I can’t begin to call back.

He stays there for just a moment, flinching. “Oh, fuck,” he hisses. “You feel too good. I need a second.”

I shift uncomfortably beneath him, trying to adjust to his size and desperately needing more from him at the same time. And then he begins to move. Slowly at first, capturing my gasps with his mouth.

“I want this off,” he grunts, lifting me only enough to pull my dress over my head, and then his hands slide up, span my waist, move higher. His touch and his mouth grow desperate, less calculated. He no longer moves slowly inside me but with a force that finds me bracing myself against the headboard, and I thank God we’re alone because if we weren’t my noises would be waking the whole house.

His jaw is locked with restraint as he tries to hold back, but his thrusts become fast and irregular and I feel my whole body tightening up, every muscle coiling and ready to spring.

“I’m close,” I cry, and the words are barely out of my mouth before it hits me, my blood heating and exploding as I clench him inside me, my nails digging into his back.

His whole body goes rigid.

“Elle,” he groans, a single pained syllable as he comes, his mouth pressed to my damp skin, eyes squeezed shut. With one final pulse, he stills and relaxes against me, burying his head in the crook of my neck.

I let his weight settle over me as our breathing slows.

“So perfect,” he mumbles, kissing my jaw, my neck, my ear. “Oh my God. I knew it would be like that with you.”

He begins to roll off, and I stop him. “Don’t go.”

“I’m crushing you.”

“I like it,” I smile, but he is already gone, pulling me onto his chest.

“I’d have risked it before,” he grins. “But now that I know what it’s like to sleep with you … ”

“You’re such an asshole,” I laugh.

“You have no idea,” he sighs. “I don’t think you know what you’re signing on for next year, Elle. I’m not going to want to leave you alone for a minute.”

“I’m not going to want you to,” I reply. “So that’ll work just fine.”

“And I’m going to act like a jealous dick every time I know you’re out, and every time some guy you know at school looks at you twice.”

“Really?” I ask with mock surprise. “You? Getting jealous? Next thing I know you’ll be telling me you also tend to be a little controlling.”

He laughs and then flips me on my back so quickly that the air rushes from my chest in a sharp burst. “I’ll show you controlling,” he smirks, biting my earlobe, nudging my knees apart.

“You can’t be ready to go again,” I giggle. “You’re still dressed.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and kicks off the shorts and boxers, which were still at mid-thigh, and then lowers himself and — damn. There it is. He’s more than ready.

“You have no idea how many times a day – no, hour – I’ve thought about doing this,” he says, moving against me until he’s in the exact right place. “I have some catching up to do.”

The air stutters in my throat as he pushes forward, but the sound of the front door slamming makes us both freeze. I hear the clip of Ginny’s heels coming down the hallway.

“Elle?” she calls. She sounds upset.

“God damn it,” James hisses. “She has the
worst
timing.”

I push away but he grabs my hips. “Stay. She’s fine. The door’s locked.”

“James,” I reply. “She’s crying.”

“She’ll stop eventually.”

“James … ”.

“Fine,” he groans, pulling out. “Go.”

In a move that’s becoming especially familiar, I throw on only the dress, climb off his balcony and run to the backyard, before climbing the deck stairs. I walk back in through the sliding door. She stands in the middle of the room, looking ashen.

“I slept with him,” she weeps. “Elle, what the hell is wrong with me?”

**

Ginny is inconsolable. I get her upstairs and into our room, and she collapses into herself on the bed.

“I slept with him,” she whispers, in shock. “I mean last time was bad enough but this … it’s too much.”

“It’s okay,” I soothe, for lack of anything I can tell her that’s actually true.

“How could I do this to Alex?” she cries.

“This was going to happen eventually. You and Alex just met too young.”

“No,” she wails. “I don’t even like Paul, and Alex is perfect for me.”

I rub her back, and wait for her to calm down on her own. I suspect anything I can say will make things worse.

She raises her tear-stained face. “Why did I do it? Alex is everything I want in a husband.”

“Just because he’s everything you want doesn’t necessarily mean that you want
him
, though,” I tell her. “Honestly, Ginny, I think maybe you’ve been bored for a long time. I mean, were you really going to marry the first guy you slept with?”

This makes her cry harder. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I never had any great sentiment attached to losing my virginity, but she did. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I know it was a big deal to you.”

She begins crying and laughing simultaneously. “No, you’re totally right. Paul was so much better at it than Alex. I had no idea it could be that good. It wasn’t even like the same activity.” She laughs again and then begins sobbing. “I have to break up with him, don’t I?”

“Seems like a good idea.”

That sets off a new wave of crying, while she protests that she loves him, that she’ll never love anyone that much, that he was so perfect and she ruined it, just like James ruined things with Allison. I’m glad she doesn’t see my face when she utters that last bit. The tears go on for hours. Or maybe it just feels like hours because every minute I spend rubbing her back is a minute I spend guiltily wishing I was back downstairs with her brother.

Chapter 44

In the morning
he’s waiting for me. He hands me my coffee. “Almond milk and lots of sugar,” he grins.

“You noticed,” I say. Thank God no one’s down here right now to hear the absolute adoration in my voice.

“I notice everything about you,” he says, stepping closer, running his fingers over my mouth. That small action is all it takes for my adoration to fire into something else. “I’ve spent every waking minute since you left my room thinking about last night.”

He lowers his mouth, breathing into me, removing the coffee from my hand and pressing me against the counter. The kiss deepens and the next thing I know I’m being lifted, pressed against him in all the right places, his tongue sweeping mine.

“My room,” he says. “Right now.”

“Yes,” I breathe, sliding off the counter into his waiting hands, just as the front door slams.

“Fuck,” pants James, resting his forehead against mine. “I think we need our own place.” He backs away just as Max walks in.

“Was I interrupting something?” he smirks.

“No,” we say simultaneously. Both of us sound way too guilty. Max rolls his eyes.

“Is Ginny okay?” James asks me.

“What’s wrong with Ginny?” Max follows, looking anxious. He talks a good game, but he really does care about her, I think.

“Nothing,” I lie. Max is probably the last person Ginny would want to know about this. “I think she’s just having some problems with Alex.”

“What kind of problems?” he asks.

I shrug. “I’m not sure she’s as into it as she was.”

James raises a brow. Her hallway confessional last night revealed a lot more than that.

When I hear Ginny moving around I go upstairs to check on her. Her eyes are red and raw but she is no longer crying.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Crappy,” she says. “But I think it’s all out of my system.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve had my one fling, and it’s behind me.” I’d like to remind her that it’s not actually her first, but I don’t.

“So you’re not breaking up with Alex?” I ask.

“No,” she says. “I can’t. He’d be devastated.” It’s not really the moment for a lecture, so I keep my thoughts to myself. But I imagine he’d be more devastated by a wife who he stopped making happy in high school.

**

The cop from Wednesday calls around lunchtime. “So I spoke to counsel,” he says haltingly. “They don’t see grounds for a restraining order.”

“Really?” I ask in surprise. I’m relieved, but in another way it doesn’t make much sense. “I thought you said you were sure it warranted one? You even thought there’d be an investigation.”

James’s eyes narrow when he hears that last bit.

“You can’t be more surprised than I am,” the cop says. “You didn’t hear it from me, but my guess is that Edward Ferris managed to put a stop to it.” James sees my face fall, and holds his hand out for the phone.

I sigh. “My boyfriend wants to talk to you,” I say, and James’s mouth quirks up a little at that, as does mine.

I hand him the phone, and he proceeds to argue vehemently against the decision, though it’s clearly out of the cop’s hands.

“This is complete bullshit,” he says to me after he hangs up.

“I know,” I sigh. “But James, I’m kind of okay with it. I really don’t think Edward’s going to hurt me, and if this got out my name would be everywhere again, only worse. Edward would have his publicist out telling everyone who will listen that I’m some attention-seeking slut.”

“Yes, but you have the messages he left you,” James argues. “People find out what he said and he’d never come back from it.”

“I don’t want people to know what he said,” I plead. “It would follow me for the rest of my life. It would be this thing … like my mom’s poster, but far worse. Something nasty associated with my name from now on.”

That, for me, is far worse than anything Edward could ever do to me. But I can tell, watching his face, that James does not agree.

**

We both manage to get released from our shifts early. I slide toward him the second we’re in the car and he lifts me right into his lap. We sit there, making out, parallel parked on a busy street, like teenagers. Well, I suppose one of us still is, technically.

He groans and pulls away. “Let me drive home before I get us arrested. I’m pretty sure an indecent exposure charge won’t really look so good for you on the cover of a magazine.”

“Good point,” I sigh, returning to my seat.

“But tonight I want you to stay with me,” he says.

“I always stay with you,” I reply.

“No, I mean all night. I don’t want you sneaking off and I don’t want to wake up and not find you there. And I want to repeat last night about five times, too.”

I laugh. “Five times?”

“What?” he asks. “You don’t think I could?”

“No,” I reply, and my breathing begins to change just thinking about it. “I’m sure you could.”

His hand roams, and is inside my cut-offs by the time we hit our street. “Jesus,” he groans. “You’re already wet.”

The words “keep driving” rest on my lips as we pull up to the house, and they remain there, because we are both rendered speechless by what we see before us.

Our driveway is full of people. People who appear to be moving in, based on the amount of stuff they’re unloading. We can’t even park because two extra cars sit there already, with a few guys pulling stuff from the trunk. And Max helping.

James removes his hand from my leg and gets out of the car. “Max,” he says in a voice that scares even me, and he’s not mad at me. “What the hell?”

“Dude,” says Max. “I told you my friends were coming into town.”

“No, you didn’t,” James snarls.

“Oh,” shrugs Max. “Sorry. I’m gonna put the girls in my room, and the guys can crash in the living room, so you mind if I’m on your floor?”

“Are you fucking serious?” asks James.

“Yeah,” says Max. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“How long?”

“How long has there been something wrong with you?” Max begins. “If I were to venture a guess I’d say … ”

“How long are they staying?” James hisses.

“Just two nights,” Max replies.

James is coiled like a spring. I maneuver him away from Max. It’s pretty big of me, I think, considering that I want to punch him too.