Page 102 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

“Your fever isn’t high enough yet. Don’t worry.” He touches the warm spoon directly to my lips. “You’ll be confessing your love in a fit of delirium you won’t remember come morning sometime later this evening.” Looking prettydelirioushimself,he says, “Drink up, snowflake. You need to get all toasty if you’re going to melt for me.”

Because my throat is sore, I roll my eyes and accept the morsel. “You could at leastpretendto feel bad for me.”

“Contracting illness is natural for most people. I feel no compulsion to pity you at this point.” He begins blowing on another spoonful of soup, and a shiver I’m blaming on my low-grade fever races up my spine as his smile stretches. “Look at you…all weak and helpless…reliant fully on me… What pure seduction it is to be at your beck and call.” He offers me the next spoonful. “I adore caring for you.”

“I’ve taken care of myself every other time I have ever been sick. You could so easily be obsolete.”

He dips the soup into my mouth. “Yes, yes. Never again.In sickness and in health, I said in my vows. And, as you are well aware, I could do naught but mean them fully.” Resting the spoon in the bowl, he bites the middle finger of his glove to pull it off, then he sets the cool backs of his fingers against my forehead.

“Uncalled for behavior,” I mumble, reaching to hold his flesh to my blazing skin. “If you were a real boy, you’d be such a theater kid. And nobody would like you.”

He lets the magic holding the glove between his teeth together unravel into nothingness. “Would you like me?”

I would have fallen head over heels for the dark, dramatic beauty. And I would have crammed all those feelings down in the pit of my chest. Because by the time I was old enough to contract silly things likefeelings, I was wrestling daily with negative amounts of self-worth.

I thought I was insane. And dirty. And useless.

I’d have talked myself out of having the time for a relationship, what with school work and house work and dodging my drunken father and supporting my emotionally-immature mother.

I’d have reminded myself that no one would want someonesoiledlike me.

I’d have, perhaps, gone so far as to set him up with one of my friends, because then wanting him would be coveting, and coveting is a sin.

In those days, it was always easier to torture myself when I made something evil according to my mutilated picture of an all-powerful God. Loving kindness, sincere forgiveness, and earnest reconciliation with children He cared for simply didn’t match how my mother portrayed the All Mighty.

So it wasn’t how I could see Him.

For a long, long time.

Letting my eyes close, I move Alexios’s hand to my cheek. “I’m an extrovert,” I murmur. “I like everyone.”

“Come now.” Alexios leans forward to press a cool kiss to my temple. “Finish your soup, angel.”

I don’t move. “I can feed myself.”

“Do not deprive me of my precious sick day cliches.”

“I will not be kissing you to pass on my illness. Nor will I, ever, sayit’s so hotand begin taking off my clothes. In a similar vein, you will not be changing my shirt on account of it beingtoo sweaty.”

He scoffs.

Actuallyscoffs.

I open my eyes to find himregardingme, like he does. “Please don’t insult me. Changing clothes happens when themale leadis ill. It’s inappropriate to strip the female lead.”

I smirk. “Sounds like Alana only watched the tame anime.”

“If you’re implying I change my source content from thetameanimetoanything else, do speak up.”

Staring at him, I do not reply. I do, however, open my mouth to receive another spoonful of soup.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, letting his glove reform around his fingers as he scoops more broth.

“Let’s just hope for the magical day-only recovery, okay?” I mumble.

“However long it takes for you to reveal insurmountable romantic feelings suits me just fine.”

“Ha ha ha.” I’d flip him off, but I simply do not have the energy.

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