Page 8 of Pretty When He Bleeds

“Cut the shit,” he snaps. “Why the fuck are you here?”

I let my eyes rake over him while running my tongue over my teeth. “Maybe I want to get to know you better.”

He immediately stiffens up at this. “Bullshit. You’re not here to make friends. So what is it? You here for revenge? Closure? To make my life hell?”

I can’t help but chuckle at this as I get to my feet. “You think everything is about you, don’t you?” I ask, raking my eyes over him and watching him squirm. “Newsflash, you’re not as important as you think.”

I let the cigarette dangle from my lips as I brush past him, but his hand shoots out to grab my bicep, yanking me back to face him. “Don’t play games with me, Damon. You won’t fucking win.”

Smirking, I tilt my head to the side and take a drag of my cigarette before I let it fall to the floor and crush it under the heel of my boot. Then I blow the smoke directly into his face.

“Win? Is that all you think this is? A competition?” I ask, leaning in and dropping my voice to a whisper. “Careful, Hotshot. You’re starting to sound scared.”

“And you’re nothing but fucking trouble.” His grip tightens on my arm, but he doesn’t say anything else as his hazel eyes burn into mine.

“Yeah? Then why can’t you let go?”

Roman’s jaw ticks, but his grip stays firm, fingers digging into my arm like he’s holding onto more than just my skin. His eyes are the kind of hazel that shifts with the light, flecks of amber and green catching like wildfire.

I drag my tongue over my bottom lip, watching as his gaze flickers to my mouth, then back up to my eyes. “You gonna let me go, or should I make you?”

For a second, I think he might actually snap, but then he pushes me away and sneers. “Stay the fuck out of my way.”

I laugh and brush off my jacket. “I’ll think about it.”

As I turn to walk away, I can feel his eyes on my back. He’s rattled and I fucking love it. “By the way,” I call over my shoulder, but I don’t bother to look back at him. “Caleb would’ve hated what you’ve become. Thought you should know.”

I don’t need to look back to know my words have hit their mark and I continue walking, knowing I’ve chipped away at him.

Thing is, Calebwouldhate what Roman has become. But he’d hate what I’ve become even more.

By the time I’m halfway across campus, my heart is fucking pounding with exhilaration. Seeing how I’ve gotten under his skin has gotten my cock hard and that’s confusing as fuck in itself.

Stop playing games, D.

Caleb’s voice bleeds into my mind and I shake my head, lighting up another smoke. “Shut up,” I mutter under my breath as I take a slow drag.

He’s not worth it. None of this is.

I blow out a stream of smoke as my jaw tightens. “You wanted this, remember? You’re the one who told me to make him pay.”

That’s not what I said.

I clench my teeth and shake my head, grabbing a fistful of my hair to drown out Caleb’s voice. It’s been years, and it still catches me off guard. I didn’t hear it when I was on my meds, which should already explain a lot of shit. But without it, I can hear his voice, and that’s enough for me.

It’s too late to turn back now, little brother.

I drop the cigarette and head for my bike. I have no more classes for the day, and right now I want to drown out these voices with music before I fucking crash out. I swing my leg over and feel oddly calm at the familiarity of the bike beneath me.

“Soon, Hotshot,” I murmur as the bike roars to life. “Real fucking soon.”

Roman

Therinkispackedfor our first game of the season and the stands are buzzing with the energy that only comes from a full house of drunk college students and die-hard fans. The air smells like stale popcorn and sweat, and the sound of skates cutting ice is sharp enough to split the air.

This is my zone. My fucking territory.

So far the game has been brutal—fast, aggressive, and full of penalties. Most of them, mine.

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