Page 133 of Shadowman

It reminds me that my own hair’s been growing in, and I run my fingers through, combing it back. “You can use any of my products… If you want.”

He spins to face me. “I appreciate that. You can use my stuff too. Sharing is caring, yes?”

I shrug and nod.Sure, why not.

Having a cellmate again is interesting, especially one who’s so different from O’Malley. O’Malley was a whacko, but at least you knew what to expect. As forthcoming as he portrays himself to be with certain things, Trevel Fenwick is still an enigma. A quiet, calculating monster, as opposed to a stark-raving lunatic.

It’s an adjustment, having someone all up in my space again. I find myself changing my clothes frantically to avoid being naked in front of him. Not that he hasn’t already seen me naked—the joys of showering in front of everyone you know.I just fear that lingering around the cell naked will seem likean invitation for my new roomie, the flirt with the wandering purple eyes.

O’Malley used to sleep naked, so he’d always be mulling around here, hanging brain. I mean, I’m comfortable with my body too, because I know it’s sick and I work really hard on it, even in here. But that doesn’t mean I just swing it around for no reason.

I do like being shirtless, though.If I never wore a shirt again for the rest of my life, I’d be totally fine with it.

I’m done changing while Trevel is still plucking clothes out of that large basket the Warden gave him, which he apparently uses to hold all of his things. And when he shimmies out of his pants, through no fault of my own, my eyes sort of go with them.

He wears briefs—rather skimpy ones, I might add—that fit him like a second skin. They look fancy, and my eyebrow cocks when I note theVersacearound the waistband.

Are those from the Warden too?? Damn. And here I thought the ones from Skull and Bones that Ren scored for us were special.

I refuse to admit it out loud, but that underwear looks good on him. The simple black, yet obviously chic European style, with his pale skin decorated in black patchwork… He looks like a high-fashion model. I can picture him wearing only those, strutting down a catwalk in Milan.

I swear, I’ve never seen anyone like him in real life. He’s… a different kind of beautiful.

Okay… stop. Weren’t you just accusinghimof being the gawking weirdo??

“Care to join me for breakfast?” Trevel asks, bringing me out of my thoughts.

Already dressed and digging through his basket again, he pulls out a packet of Pop-Tarts.

“Uh… sure.” I answer, mouth watering and trying to act like it’s not.

I’m not huge on sweets, but I do love strawberry Pop-Tarts, and I’m sure they’re infinitely better than whatever we’ll be getting in the caf.

“Shall we take our breakfast on the… veranda?” He arches a dark brow. “Or the terrace?”

It takes me a moment to register what he’s asking me, but when I do, my lips twitch. “Veranda is fine.”

“Marvelous choice.” He grins, trotting over and plopping down onto my bed.

I take a reluctant seat at the edge, but he’s already nestled in there, sitting cross-legged and opening the packet with obvious glee. He hands me a pastry, then holds his out.

Knowing what he wants, I roll my eyes, pursing away the grin as I tap mine against his and mumble, “Galchae.”

His face lights up. “Is thatcheersin Korean?”

I nod, chomping a bite that lights up my tastebuds.

“Galchae,” he tries saying it, and I smirk.

“Not bad.”

“Did I tell you I was in Korea?” he mumbles in between bites.

“I believe that’s one of the few things you left out,” I tease, recalling all the stuff we talked about the other night in his cell.

“Oh, trust me, warrior boy, there are many things I haven’t voiced to you yet.” He smirks, and I roll my eyes again. “But as I wassaying, we had a layover in Seoul on our way here to New York. Unfortunately, I wasn’t allowed to leave the airport… A true shame because I’ve always wanted to visit there.”

“It’s a dope place,” I hum, fighting off the disparaging thought that I’ll probably never see it again.