Page 22 of Pretty When He Bleeds

“You just gonna stand there and stare at him or get to fucking work, Bishop?” Killian teases, nudging me with his elbow.

“Shut the fuck up,” I say, dragging my gaze away and picking up a set of dumbbells. Killian snickers and drops onto a bench to start his set.

The weights are heavier than usual, but I welcome the burn in my muscles, anything to keep my eyes and mind off Damon Ward, who is not ten feet away and looking like a goddamn sin I really want to commit.

I sneak another glance—because of course I fucking do—and instantly regret it. Damon’s at the squat rack now, the barbell resting on his shoulders as he lowers to a deep squat. The muscles in his legs and back flex, and the way his tank clings to his skin is nothing short of obscene.

“Jesus fucking Christmas,” I mutter under my breath and tear my gaze away, staring at the floor to get my shit together.

Killian notices because God sent him to be my best friend just so he could fuck with me. “Subtle, Rome,” he snickers. “Real subtle.”

“Fuck off, please?” I say, racking the weights harder than necessary.

Kill doesn’t let up, grinning like he’s just discovered my deepest, darkest secret. “You’re seriously down bad, horny at the gym. It’s almost impressive.”

“Drop it, Kill,” I grit out, grabbing my towel and wiping the sweat from my face.

“Not a chance,” he says, finishing his set and sitting up, his smirk widening. “Come on, man, just admit it. The guy is hot as fuck.”

I hesitate, staring at the floor like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, but the words slip out before I can stop them. “Fine, he’s hot as fuck. Happy now?”

Killian laughs, throwing a towel over his shoulder and leaning back on the bench. “Ecstatic. Took you long enough to admit it.”

“Don’t make it weird,” I groan, reaching for my water bottle.

“Oh, it’s already weird,” he says with a grin. “But seriously, if I didn’t know who he was, I’d let him ruin me. No questions asked.”

I immediately choke on the sip of water, staring at him like he’s lost his damn mind. “Are you serious right now?”

“Dead serious,” he says and shrugs. “Have you seen the guy? He’s like a poster child for bad decisions, and you know that’s my type. I don’t normally bottom, but fuck, I’d spread—”

“Oh my fucking God, Kill,” I exclaim “You’re fucked up.”

“Says the guy who can’t stop drooling over him,” Killian shoots back, standing up and stretching. “I’m gonna head to the treadmills. Try not to cum in your pants from watching him, alright?”

“I hate you,” I call after him, flipping him off and truly hating him right now for leaving me alone with the guy who I’ve been trying—and failing—to stop thinking about.

I watch as Damon finishes his set, lifting the hem of his tank to wipe the sweat from his forehead and my brain nearly bluescreens at the sight of his abs and those tattoos. Either he hasn’t noticed me, or he’s doing a fucking good job of ignoring me.

I grab my towel and head his way before I can talk myself out of it.

He looks up when I approach and narrows his eyes at me. The first thing I notice is how clear his eyes look, not clouded like every other time he’s glared at me. “Hotshot,” he says, his voice flat and tired. “What do you want?”

I shrug, leaning against the rack next to him. “Just wanted to say hi. You’ve been MIA.”

Great, now he’ll know I’ve been looking for him.

“Didn’t realize you cared,” he mutters, grabbing his bottle of water and taking a long drink.

“Where’ve you been, Damon?” I ask, not caring about the edge in his tone when he answered me.

He sets the bottle down, his gaze flicking to mine. “Around.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting,” he says, standing and grabbing his shit. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Why are you avoiding me?”

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