Page 108 of Pretty When He Bleeds

The second the hot water hits his skin, he groans, rolling his shoulders like he’s trying to wake up. I reach for the shampoo and lather it through my hair, keeping an eye on him as he stretches.

“You’re staring,” he mumbles, eyes still half-lidded.

“Can’t help it,” I smirk, sliding my hands down his back, fingers pressing into his tense muscles. “You’re too fucking pretty, Bishop.”

He snorts, but I catch the faint flush creeping up his neck. I press my thumbs into his shoulders, massaging the knots there, and his body instantly melts into my hands.

“Fuck, that’s good,” he mutters, tilting his head forward as I work at the tension.

“Uh-huh,” I chuckle, leaning in to nip at his ear. “See? Worth getting out of bed for.”

He hums again, but this time, it’s happier. Less grumpy. I keep rubbing slow, lazy circles into his shoulders as he sighs under my hands.

“You’re just trying to distract me so I forget you’re an asshole in the mornings,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, well, it’s working.” I kiss the side of his neck again before stepping back under the spray and rinsing out my hair. “We need to get moving, anyway.”

He groans, stretching his arms over his head before rinsing off. “What’s the rush?”

“We have class, Bishop.”

He sighs dramatically, but I can tell he’s waking up now, the steam and the heat working through whatever stiffness was left in his body from practice and me.

When we step out of the shower and start toweling off, he catches my gaze in the mirror. “You remember my game on Friday?”

I nod. “Wouldn’t miss it.”

“Good,” he says, his voice softer now. “Think Ma would want to come?”

I pause, rubbing the towel through my hair. “Yeah. I’ll ask her.”

Roman nods, meeting my eyes in the mirror once more. “I think she’d like that.”

Warmth settles in my chest at the thought of her seeing him play. Of her seeing how fucking incredible he is out there.

After getting dressed, I grab my black hoodie off the counter and pull it on over my head, watching as Roman gets dressed in his fitted black jeans and a simple long-sleeved tee that still somehow manages to make him look obnoxiously hot. Then he steals one of my hoodies again.

Once we’re ready, I grab my keys, throw an arm over his shoulder, and pull him in for a kiss before we head out.

Campus is already busy when we pull up, students heading to their classes in clusters, some barely awake, others looking way too energetic for this early in the morning.

Roman gets off my bike first, tugging his helmet off and ruffling his hair. I notice he’s wearing my Sisters of Mercy hoodie again, and he looks fucking good in it. Which is annoying because he steals my shit and I can’t even be mad about it.

I slide off the bike and lean against it, watching him stretch. “You look like you got wrecked last night.”

Roman glares at me. “I did get wrecked last night, thanks to you.”

I smirk, stepping closer. “You loved it.”

He grunts but doesn’t deny it, he just shifts on his feet, watching me like he’s debating something. I smirk. “What, you wanna skip class?”

He rolls his eyes. “No, dumbass. Just…” He hesitates, then steps closer, pressing a quick kiss to my jaw. “Text me later, yeah?”

I nod, squeezing his hip. “Always.”

And with that, we go our separate ways and the rest of the day passes in a blur.

Classes, assignments, sitting at my usual bench between lectures and sketching while Sleep Token blasts through my earbuds. I keep my phone nearby, half-expecting a message from my mom, but nothing comes through. Not yet.

---