Page 25

Chapter

Twenty-One

CLAY

“ B e a good bat and do what Kovi and Tanner say.” Owen drops a kiss on Bat Nathanson’s fuzzy black forehead. BN blinks and nuzzles into him.

“We’ll be back soon,” I assure BN, tickling under his chin as Owen passes the tiny creature to Tanner.

Our baby squeaks. I’m getting pretty good at telling what his squeaks mean, and this one is a blasé “so long, see ya.”

Teenager. He’s getting so big. And he adores Kovi and Tanner, who are watching him for our date night.

It’s a week after the bonfire night. Summer’s going to be annoying without Owen, and I’m going to miss him. But I hope he agrees to my big surprise for fall.

Keep it together, Clay.

“Here’s his bag,” I say, handing Kovi a tote with BN’s bottles of blood, his tiny stuffed animal toy, blankets, and other essentials. Even teens need their toys.

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Tanner says, running a finger over BN’s head. BN closes his eyes, enjoying the touch. “ We’ll take care of him.”

“And you can FangChat him if you really want,” Kovi adds. “We’ll be around.”

Owen exhales. “Okay, good.” He bites his lip and shifts his weight from one leg to the other. “So, where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” I say, hooking my arm around his neck.

Instead of driving, I fly him to downtown Creelin.

“First stop, dinner,” I say.

“Cannon, where are we going?” Owen repeats, looking at all the different restaurants on this street.

“If you’re up for it, we could go to the Indian one we went to with your parents—and try to create a new memory.”

He shakes his head. “They don’t have anything for you to eat there.”

“I’m good, and I can fill up at the next place we go,” I say.

Owen studies my face. “If you insist.”

But I’ve watched how he is in the cafeteria and can tell he wants some traditional food. “I think you’d like the dal soup and chicken monster-sala.”

His stomach rumbles. I kiss him. “Come on.”

I drag him inside.

After he eats his fill, a happy smile on his face, we go back outside into the last light of the day.

“Where next?”

“Another surprise,” I say.

We go down the street and walk a few blocks over to get in line at Scareoke.

“Karaoke?” Owen says, chuckling. “Can you sing?”

“Nope,” I say cheerfully. “But that doesn’t stop me from trying.”

As the line moves slowly up, we get to the werewolf bouncer. Oh, shit, did I forget my wallet again?

I pat my pockets, but Owen’s pulling out his wallet and he hands me my ID .

“When did you take to carrying this around for me?”

He shrugs. “It seemed like the best way to help you.”

I kiss his temple. “Thanks.”

I show the bouncer my ID, Owen shows his, and I pay the cover charge for both of us. We step inside, and Brandon is waving at us frantically.

“He’s over there,” I say, gesturing. “Bran adores karaoke.”

“Is he good at it?”

“Nope, but the n?kk makes up for it. Steve’s voice is outstanding.”

Owen gives me an unreserved smile. “I can’t wait.”

We slide in the circular booth next to Brandon and Steve.

“So glad you could make it!” Bran chirps. Steve gives us a small smile, which for him is a full-on belly laugh.

We order drinks. I get a blood martini, which is just blood served in a martini glass. A few more members of the water polo team—Nick, Phil, and Ren—join us.

And then it’s our turn for karaoke.

Brandon, of course, is first, and he gets up there with Steve to sing “Space Oddity” by David Bowie. Naturally, Bran’s ground control and the n?kk is Major Tom.

Then Phil, the sasquatch, saunters up and brings down the house with “New York, New York,” Frank Sinatra style. That kid really should be singing for a major record label.

Nick gets up and sings “I’m Gonna Be (500 Miles)” by The Proclaimers—I guess that’s a nod to his Scottish background—and then it’s my turn.

Little monster butterflies flop around in my stomach as I approach the stage. I peer into the lights, and while it’s hard to see at first, I find Owen.

The MC puts on “Come On Get Higher” by Matt Nathanson, and Owen beams widely at me .

Well. I do my best. I’m not a great singer, but what I lack in voice, I make up for in moves.

When I finish the song, I get a huge round of applause and rejoin my friends.

“You’re amazing,” Owen says. “I love that song.”

“Me too.” I nuzzle his face. “I love you more, though.”

“This is a cool surprise.”

“I’m just getting started.”

An hour later, we’re in the common room of Karloff Hall, and Brandon’s helping me set up the projector, which is hooked up to my laptop.

Owen’s sitting on the squeaky old couch, looking quizzically as the n?kk and Nick put up a screen. A few other friends mill around.

When I finally get the projector focused and working, my HowlerPoint slide presentation pops up.

“WHY I LOVE OWEN BHAT ,” by Clay Cannon.

Owen inhales sharply. Is he going to cry?

I fly over to him—not literally, just using my monster speed. “Hey, are you okay?” I murmur, getting on my knees before him.

He runs a hand through my hair. “Yes, you big brute! You’re being all sentimental. Just show me your slides.”

I grin, flashing my fangs. “Okay, hang on.”

Returning to the computer, I push a button, and the slide changes to one of Owen studying. His face is down, and he didn’t know I was sneaking a photo of him.

“The future Doctor Bhat is the smartest person I know,” I begin .

“What about me?” Bran calls.

“You’re pretty,” I say. “And yes, you’re smart, but …”

“I’m just teasing,” Brandon says. “Owen is the smartest.”

Owen’s face is thoroughly heated.

Later. You can feed on him later.

I move to the next slide, and it’s a photo of us and Bat Nathanson between us. “Owen is the most caring bat dad I’ve ever met.”

“Does Clay know any other bat dads?” the n?kk whispers to Brandon.

“It doesn’t matter,” Bran whispers back. I puff out my chest. This is why Bran’s my best friend.

The next slide is a photo of me flying, which Owen took and posted on his Fangstagram. “Owen’s taught me so much about so many different things. He taught me how to fly.”

“You didn’t know how to do that?” someone calls.

“Nope,” I admit. “I couldn’t do it until he helped.”

“That’s so cool,” Bran says, giving Owen an up-nod.

Next slide is a picture of me with a bunch of books. “He taught me monster anatomy,” I say.

“I would’ve thought you had a Ph.D, in that already,” Nick calls.

I tut. “Leave me alone, I’m being sentimental.”

Everyone laughs. Owen is smiling.

The next slide is a photo of me, shirtless in bed—one that Owen took after sex.

“Wait, why did you share the hot photo of you?” Brandon asks.

“I mean, wouldn’t you?” I counter.

Bran laughs. “Okay, fair.”

“Oh my monster god, I can’t believe you’re sharing that!” Owen shrieks, covering his face with his hands and peeking through his fingers.

“But I look good,” I say, tilting my head.

Dropping his hands, Owen rolls his eyes. “True. You do.”

The next photo is one of his family. “He’s a loving son?—”

I keep going. Finally, at the end, I say, “Owen Bhat, you’re the best thing that ever happened to me, and I want to know if you’d like to move in with me the next school year. It’d save on housing fees.”

Nick snorts. “Sure, it’s a budgetary issue.”

But Owen’s eyes are bright. “I’d love to move in with you,” he whispers.

“I’m so glad we were lab partners,” I say, and kiss him.