Page 80 of Bloom

Not that it would change how I felt about him.

My heart was already in this.

I was falling for him, if I hadn’t fallen completely already.

When it was time for me to go, he walked me to the door and sighed with a frown. “I wish you could stay,” he murmured.

“Maybe next time,” I said. I had an early start in the morning and hadn’t brought any clothes with me. I put my fingers to his chin and lifted his face so I could kiss him. “I wish I had a paper flower to give you,” I said. “For this weekend, for what you mean to me.”

“What flower would it be?”

I thought for a second. “A peach blossom.”

“What does it mean?”

I searched his eyes, my heart in my throat. “My heart is thine.”

He closed his eyes slowly and breathed in deep before looking up at me with big doe eyes. “My heart is thine. My heart is also thine... thou... thoust?” He shrugged. “Yours.”

I chuckled and kissed him again, pressing my lips to his, soft and slow. God, I wished I could stay. I never wanted to leave him. I groaned at the door. “You know, if we had that hypothetical place for our hypothetical cats already, I wouldn’t have to leave.”

“If we had our own place,” he murmured, “you and I would be in bed all afternoon. And we wouldn’t need to be worrying about condoms.”

I groaned louder and took a step back. “Well, that’s not helping.”

He laughed. “Sorry.”

“You’re absolutely not.”

“Absolutely not at all.”

I opened his door, making myself leave, because if I didn’t leave right now, I wasn’t leaving at all. “On that note,” I said. “I’d like it known that this is a discernible effort on my part in making myself leave. A strength of will, if you like.”

He laughed. “I’ll call you later tonight,” he murmured, peeking shyly around his door. “And just so you know, there will be phone sex. The fact that I’m not dragging you to my room right now is testament to the strength ofmywill, if you like.”

I grinned at him. “Okay then.”

“Bye, Keats.”

I nodded and he closed his door, and I stood there for a few seconds trying to catch my breath. I put my hand to my chest and smiled at his door, and I heard him laugh, so I was pretty sure he was watching me through his peephole.

“Have a good night,” I said to his door.

“If I open this door, you’re not leaving,” came his reply.

I laughed. “Okay, okay. I’m going.” I took a step back down the hall, assuming he was still watching me through his peephole. I waved. “Night.”

Then I had to make myself leave. And I had to make myself stop smiling. But I set my little plant up on the shelf next to Elizabeth and gave him a welcome drink. Then I took out my new dinosaur ladle and penguin egg cooker, happy that I’d bought them. Doing something fun was long overdue.

Then I looked around my lounge room, at the tired couch, the old table, the even older TV stand.

My new furniture would be arriving next weekend. For my new outlook on life.

For the new me.

The me who knew it was about time to start living.

Part of me felt that I had already started. This new phase of my life was looking bright. And I could tell myself that Linden wasn’t the sole reason or the centre of my happiness; that it had to come from within.