Page 86 of Bloom

“Roberto isn'tanotherman,” I correct, frustration bubbling up in my chest. “He's just a man.”

Lux's disbelieving hum brushes my cheek, and I sigh. The breath of air that leaves me is tiny, miniscule, barely audible yet somehow it draws the attention of the big man on the other side of the room.

The moment pretty hazel eyes flit in my direction, I avert mine, scrutinizing the strappy heeled sandals on my feet andwondering how quickly they can carry me out of here. I pray for a miraculous breaking of the sound barrier as I shrug Lux off and make a break for freedom.

A hand engulfing my elbow gently tugs me to a stop right as I reach the front door. A whole freaking zoo of winged insects erupts in my stomach at the simple, warm touch. I count to three in my head, taking that many deep breaths too, before tentatively looking up.

“Hi.”

I blink at the simple greeting. “Hello.”

Still holding my arm, Hunter rakes his gaze over me slowly. His throat bobs as he swallows, the veins in that thick neck straining. “You look nice.”

The subconscious hope tingling beneath my skin evaporates. Nice; the antithesis of an actual compliment. “Thank you.”

A holler of my name saves me from any further stilted conversation. Turning, I find Eliza with her face practically smushed against the window, and her excited proclamation fills me with dread. “Your date is here!”

Hunter’s grip abruptly loosens, and I take the opportunity to wrench my arm away. Without so much as a backwards glance at the people wishing me luck, I scurry out the door and towards the car coming up the drive, despite every instinct urging me to run in the opposite direction.

Tears blur my eyes as I huddle on the porch steps less than two hours after I rushed down them. Alone and under the cover of darkness, the uncomfortable ball of frustration that’s been brewing all evening finally releases, streaming from my eyes in hot rivulets.

I don’t even know why I’m disappointed. Or surprised. The date went exactly how I anticipated it would—awfully. It was completely and utterly awful. From the moment Roberto picked me up, I was a flustered, blundering mess, and there was no one to blame but myself.

I overthought every move I made, everything I said. Half of my meal was left uneaten because of the nauseating nerves slithering around in my gut. I couldn’t carry a conversation to save my life; every question my date asked or comment he made took an extra thirty seconds to sink in, and every response I spent way too long conjuring up made me sound like a ditz. And if my mortifying fate wasn’t already set in stone, I spilled an entire pitcher of water all over the table,andI knocked over my chair when I shot to my feet in surprise.

Either Roberto was taking pity on my frazzled state when he promptly requested the bill, or he was sharing my humiliation and needed to get the hell away. Whatever the reason, the evening ended barely an hour after it started.

Everything was made all the worse by Roberto being nothing short of perfect. The ideal candidate for a girl’s first date, if that girl was anyone but me. He tried so hard to keep everything on track, to not let my inability to behave like a normal human being ruin the evening. He was kind and polite and sweet the whole time, right up until he dropped me off.

As he pulled into Serenity Ranch for the second time tonight, he shot me a subdued smile.My cousin pressured you into this, didn’t he?he said.You didn't really want to go out?

I denied it vehemently—I wasn't about to blame my dating incompetency on my friend’s good intentions. I apologized too, mind buzzing as I tried to search for an explanation that wouldn’t incite pity and add to my embarrassment, but he cut me off.

It’s okay,he’d said.I understand. I know, Caroline.

I don’t know what he knows, and I didn’t get the chance to ask. Before I knew it, he was exiting the car and jogging around to my side to help me out. I stood there frowning, trying to figure it out, as he kissed my cheeks, not entirely registering his goodbye until he was gone.

That was almost half an hour ago. I’ve spent the minutes since then slumped with my head in my hands, reliving the painful experience. With each run-through, more and more guilt sets in.

I'm a terrible person. Letting Roberto take me out in an attempt to counter the sting of Hunter's rejection and then thinking about Hunter the whole time makes me a terrible person.

Because that's exactly what I was doing.

Thinking about Hunter. Unconsciously imagining it was him sitting opposite me. Comparing every little thing between the outstandingly different men.

He'd never take me somewhere like this,I'd thought to myself as we settled at our table, eyeing the sleek restaurant and the obscenely priced entrees. He wouldn’t take me anywhere he couldn’t wear jeans. He wouldn’t take me somewhere so clean and poised and quiet, where it felt like every word we shared could be overheard by the people around us.

He wouldn’t take me anywhere, full stop,I had to keep—and keep and keep and keep—reminding myself.

I couldn’t drag my thoughts away from a man who doesn’t want me for a damn hour. And I feel wretched, just freaking wretched, knowing that I like a man who doesn’t like me.

Again.

Sniffing loudly, I scrub at my leaking eyes, grateful that everyone seems to have cleared out and, for once, the ranch is empty. For once, there’s no one around to witness my breakdown.

Or at least, that’s what I think.

“Caroline?”

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