Page 132 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

“Morning,” I greet.

Pila stops creating fig art on her large silver platter. “It’s late afternoon.”

“Some of us have sleep schedules; some of us have lives.”

Pila’s bright laughter eases something tight inside. “You were up finishing that trilogy, weren’t you?”

Willow sweeps an arm out and plants her fingers delicately against her chest. “It’s not my fault the author is mean and left cliffhangers at the end of every single chapter. I’m avictim.”

A low motor starts up as Zylus, in his black cat form, starts circling Willow’s stocking-foot ankles.

She scowls down at him. “You are not neglected.”

Zylus’s multi-colored eyes peer up at her.

She scoffs. “Of course I love you more than books.Youfeed me.”

His head tilts.

Willow averts her eyes, and the pause between them lengthens.

He meows.

“I’m thinking.”

Giggling, Pila asks, “What did he say?”

“Who knows. I’m still getting used to his stupid thoughtsbecoming more clear in my brain with every passing week. It was somethingridiculousabout whether I’d rather live in a world without him or a world without books. I lived a great long time in a world without him, but he’s conned me into being unsure whether or not I’d want to go back.” Her eyes narrow. “I might hate him, actually.”

Shadows gather around the corners of Zylus’s feline form, and Willow marches away from him. “No. Don’t shift. I’m mad at you for askingwould you still love me if I were a wormquestions.” Snatching a golden fig off the arrangement, Willow notes, “What time is the birthday boy showing up?”

“Any minute now,” I provide. “Should be flapping on over as we speak.”

Willow bites into the fig and lets a twisted smile overtake her lips. “Such tiny wings. So much flapping.” Her smile fades when she looks past the kitchen nook out the window and to the pinata hanging from the closest tree. “Is that filled with spiders?”

“No idea.” Leaning to look out the kitchen archway and into the living room, I call, “Alana? What did you put in the pinata?”

Alana pauses setting up a game on the coffee table. It involves rattles and bottles. What excellent mother behavior. “Individually-wrapped mochi. Xios doesn’t like eating them, but he does like squishing them, for hours, on end, why?”

My mouth opens, but Willow says, “I would like to add tiny plastic babies…”

“You have tiny plastic babies?” I ask.

“I have Wi-Fi and prepared for this day, yes. Had I woken up earlier, I’d have taped them all over the house.” She turns on her heel in a sweep of her frilled dress. “Zy, you may help me, to make amends for your repulsive comments earlier.”

It is in the moment she says his name that I realize Zylus confined himself to the corner, head pressed against the wall. In a vapor of shadow, he shifts into a man and pounces on hissoulmate, purring, “You love me.”

“Yes.”

“More than books.”

“Don’t push it.”

They exit the kitchen while a horrible little thought pollutes my poor skull.

Do I foresee loving Alexios more than video games?

Ugh. Don’t be idiotic. I don’t need to ask theAlexios or video gamesquestion, because I’m not that obsessed with playing silly games on my computer.Alexios or other people, however…

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