Page 58 of Pretty When He Bleeds

I flip him off, grabbing a piece of toast from the counter and shoving it in my mouth to avoid answering.

Thorn shakes his head as he peels his banana. “Y’all are gonna make breakfast really awkward from now on, aren’t you?”

“That depends,” Damon says, his smirk never fading. “On how much noise we make next time.”

Thorn groans, muttering something under his breath as he leaves the kitchen, while Killian laughs so hard he doubles over.

“You’re an asshole,” I tell Damon, but there’s no heat in my words.

“And you’re blushing,” he says, stepping closer so only I can hear him. “Cute.”

I glare at him, but the way he’s looking at me—with that smug grin and those piercing green eyes—makes my stomach flip.

Damon chuckles beside me, his hand brushing mine briefly, and the simple touch sends a spark of warmth through me. He doesn’t care about the teasing—if anything, he thrives on it—and that confidence makes it easier for me to breathe.

“Are you guys done making this awkward?” Eli asks as he walks in, looking like he just rolled out of bed. “Some of us actually have shit to do today.”

“Like what?” Killian asks, grinning. “Laundry? Or are you finally gonna clean up your side of the house?”

Eli flips him off, grabbing a protein bar from the counter. “I’ve got class, asshole.”

“Don’t we all,” Thorn mutters as he walks back in with his bag.

“Alright, everyone,” Killian says. “We’ve got class in an hour, and I don’t want to hear anyone bitching about being late because they were too busy roasting Bishop.”

The others groan but eventually turn back to their breakfasts, the noise level picking up again as they resume their conversations. I glance at Damon, who’s still leaning against the counter, his smirk firmly in place.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I ask, my voice low.

“Absolutely.”

“You’re a dick.”

“And you’re adorable when you’re embarrassed.”

I roll my eyes and grab my bag from the corner and glance at Damon, who’s still watching me with that infuriatingly smug look. “You coming, or are you just gonna stand there looking pretty?”

“Thought you’d never ask,” he says, downing the rest of his coffee.

Killian whistles as we head toward the door. “Have fun, lovebirds! Don’t break any desks!”

I flip him off without looking back, and Damon laughs softly as we step outside. “That guy’s a menace,” I mutter, adjusting the strap of my bag.

“He’s not wrong, though,” Damon says, his voice low. “You did sound really good last night.”

I glare at him, but the heat in my cheeks betrays me. “Shut up, Ward.”

He grins, falling into step beside me as we head toward his bike. Despite the teasing, despite the chaos of the morning, there’s a strange kind of peace between us.

And for once, I don’t feel like running from it.

Damon

Theapartmentfeelstooquiet when I get home. The kind of silence that gets under your skin, wrapping around you until it’s all you can hear. Normally, I’d welcome it—it’s better than the chaos of campus or the noise of Roman’s place—but tonight, it just feels heavy.

I toss my keys onto the counter and kick off my boots, heading straight for my bed. My hoodie comes off next, followed by my jeans, and I fall onto the bed in nothing but my boxers, letting out a heavy sigh.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I reach for it lazily, the glow of the screen cutting through the dim light.

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