Page 98 of Bloom

“Boyfriend?” my mother asks. She looks to me for confirmation, and I nod. “But you’re … ” Her face falls. “You’re so much older than she is.”

I groan. Now she decides to act parental? “Mom, we’re six years apart. It’s not a big deal.”

“But he’s an adult,” she says. “You’re still in school and … ”

“He’s in school too, Mom.”

“I’m sorry to spring it on you like this, Mrs. Grayson,” he says. “But I’m in love with your daughter and I don’t think the age difference is all that relevant.”

I kiss Ryan’s cheek and stand beside James, grabbing his hand. “It was nice meeting you, Tommy.”

“I’m going to have to think about this,” my mother says, frowning.

I hug her. “There’s nothing to think about, Mom. No one’s asking permission.”

**

His hand is rough against mine as he pulls me out to the street, and once the door is shut behind us I am pressed against him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I acted like a complete asshole earlier. About everything. About meeting your mom. About Ryan. About the dress. You look un-fucking-believable, by the way. I acted like a total dick and the second you walked away with him I knew it and it was too late to fix it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I say, leaning into him. “You just fixed it, right now.”

“I’m not ashamed of you, Elle. Just the opposite. When we’re together I want to wave a banner that says ‘this is my girlfriend’. But I’m not going to lie — it does bother me, the way people look at it. Like you’re some innocent victim and I’m this manipulative creep. It makes me feel … like Edward.”

“Anyone who’s seen us together knows it’s not like that,” I reply.

He nods. “I know. And I’ll get over it. You’ve just got to be patient with me.”

“So does that mean you’re taking me out now to meet your friends?” I smile.

His hands slide to my lower back, tucking me into him. “We can if you want, but I’d really rather take you home.”

He pulls me toward him in the cab. The kiss is soft but there’s intent behind it. And as it continues, as his tongue rasps against mine, as he sucks on my bottom lip, it begins to feel inadequate. The surface of my skin seeks his but we remain in our seats and it’s impossible to get the closeness I want. A slow burn begins in its place, taking my breath, as his hand digs into my hair, as the movements grow fraught, lingering and heavy.

When his free hand slides to my inner thigh and I inhale audibly, he pulls away.

“I have to stop,” he whispers. I reach down and lay my palm over him and he releases a small groan at the pressure of my hand. “That’s not helping the situation,” he says.

“I know of other ways I could help the situation, but we’re almost here.”

He puts my hand back in my lap and adjusts himself, just as we arrive at my building. I see the photographers, more of them, and I couldn’t care less. The only thing I care about in the whole world is getting him alone.

We make it through the doorway, through the lobby, but I am humming with tension and based on how hard he’s holding my hand, I think he is too.

We stand in the elevator, waiting the endless seconds for the doors to shut, and the moment they do I’m turning toward him and his hand is around the back of my head, pulling me close.

Chapter 53

My interviews are scheduled a few hours apart. I sent them the audio from Edward’s voicemails in advance, and yet I’m nervous. The things Edward has already said about me are so damning that they seem impossible to overcome.

I’d much prefer to stay where I am right now, wrapped up next to James in bed, and avoid the next six hours entirely. “What am I going to do if she’s hostile?” I ask.

“She’s not a judge, Elle. She’s a reporter. And you’re not offering an argument. You’re offering the facts. And that’s all you can do, so don’t worry about the outcome.”

The reporter meets us in the apartment. She’s cordial as she enters, but a trifle chilly. She gingerly sets her bag down and looks around. I regret inviting her here immediately. Print reporters don’t make a lot of money, and she’s probably looking at this place and hating me a little for being 19 and living better than she does.

I introduce James, wondering belatedly if this was advisable either. Perhaps it’s falling under the heading of “Elle likes older men”.