Page 97 of Pretty When He Bleeds

I smirk. “Good, right?”

He scowls, taking another sip. “Fuck off.”

I don’t call him out on the way he’s holding the cup close like it’s comforting. Next stop is a bookstore. Damon pretends he doesn’t care, but within five minutes, he’s flipping through an art book with rapt attention.

I lean against a shelf, watching him.

“What?” he mutters, not looking up.

“Nothing,” I say, grinning. “Just watching you be a nerd.”

He flips me off without missing a beat and I buy the book for him when he’s not looking.

Dinner is at a hole-in-the-wall diner that serves the best burgers and milkshakes. It’s nothing fancy, just a small place with dim lighting, decent food, and booths tucked into the corners where we can have some space.

Damon raises an eyebrow as we slide into a booth. “A fucking diner?”

I shrug. “Good food. Good shakes. Plus, you need to eat.”

“I do eat,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Not enough,” I counter, flipping through the menu. He scowls at me but doesn’t argue. Fuck me, my boy is grumpy as all hell.

When the waitress comes by, I order a double cheeseburger, and Damon, after glaring at me for a few seconds, sighs and orders the same. But he raises an eyebrow at my vanilla shake when our order arrives. “That’s the most boring shit I’ve ever seen.”

I steal a fry from his plate. “Not all of us are obsessed with black coffee and cigarettes, Ward.”

He smirks. “And yet, you’re obsessed with me.”

I roll my eyes, but I don’t deny it. He looks down at his plate for a second, then up at me, his expression softer. “This is nice.”

I reach across the table, taking his hand. “I’m glad you’re reluctantly enjoying our date, baby.” Damon groans, but I don’t miss the way his fingers tighten around mine.

We eat, we talk, and I keep touching him every chance I get—brushing my foot against his under the table, running my fingers over his wrist, tucking a stray curl behind his ear.

And yeah, it is throwing him off. But the longer we sit there, the less tense he becomes, and the more I see his lips twitching like he’s trying not to smile.

The last stop is the rink.

Damon frowns when I pull into the empty parking lot. “Seriously?”

I grab the keys Killian left for me and smirk. “Trust me.”

Inside, the arena is silent and the overhead lights cast a soft glow on the ice. I lace up my skates while Damon watches, arms crossed. “You do know how to skate, right?”

He gives me a flat look. “We grew up in fucking Michigan, Roman.”

I grin, standing up. “Then get your ass out here.”

Damon grumbles the whole time he laces up, but when he steps onto the ice, he moves easily, smoothly, like he’s been doing this forever.

I skate backward in front of him, smirking. “Not bad.”

He scoffs. “I told you I could skate.”

We glide around the rink, just the two of us, the silence between us easy. Then I grab his hoodie and pull him to me, pressing my forehead against his.

“Having fun?” I murmur.

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