Page 111 of Falling in Love with A Tiny Bat

Chapter 28

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We don’t choose our plot, only what character we’ll play in it.

“Are you sure you want to fly home?” I ask as Alexios and I start off into the night toward where I’ve parked my motorcycle. Willow’s officialdriveway, which sports the largely unused vehicles of both Alana and Brittny, is comically far away from her house, on account of how much she hates cars.

Therefore, the night stretches like a veil of darkness beyond the waving limbs of the trees above us.

Alexios adjusts one of the cuff links I returned to him when he shifted out of his little bat form in order towalk me to my bike like a gentleman. “I am certain.”

“I’d let you drive, if you want.”

“If I drove, I wouldn’t drop my glamour, and it would make the entire bike invisible to humans also using the road.”

“Sounds fun.”

“I do not know how to operate a motorcycle.”

“I can teach you. There aren’t many cars out at this hour. It’ll be fine. We can even break all the traffic laws if your glamour covers us.”

Arching a brow, he says, “AmInot meant to be the suicidal one between us?”

Now my brows rise. “Is that a role that absolutelyhasto be filled in a two-person relationship?”

His deep, near-black eyes watch me for long, still moments, convincing me I haven’t been imagining his mood lately. Something about him has been off since Saturday. I wish I remembered what happened at the height of my fever. I quite nearly blacked out. When I came to, he was with me.

My heart was pounding.

I hurt—everywhere.

But he was with me.

And then he stayed, on a pillow in the middle of my room, all night and every night since, until I was well enough for him to come back to bed in his darling bunny costume. Which may very well be my favorite thing.

Sometimes I tie his floppy ears into a bow and think it’s not terrible to be near a person of the male variety in a romantic context.

It occurs to me very late that he has yet to respond, so I say, “Xios? Is something wrong?”

“Wrong?” he echoes, the word distant and hollow.

“Um. Yeah.”

“What seems wrong?”

Pulling my attention off him, I stare up through the canopy and hum. “I don’t know. You seem less playful recently. It’s not exactlyunnerving, but I do wonder if you’re attempting a different angle where it comes to getting me to give you my soul, or everything, or whatever next you plan to ask for.”

He sighs. “My apologies. I’m…haunted by what happened Saturday night.”

Ah, crap.

So something profound did happen Saturday night.

“Did I hurt your feelings while I was completely out of it? I probably didn’t mean whatever I said. Most people get grouchy when they don’t feel well.”

“You implied that your father was…the one who assaulted you when you were a child.”

My mouth opens, hanging like that until my tongue goes dry. Squeaking, I say, “Oh.”

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