Page 8

Chapter

Eight

OWEN

W e own a terrarium together. Or, more accurately, we’re nursing a bat together, and that involved buying a terrarium. We also bought woodchips, newspapers, hypoallergenic paper towels, and bottles. We went ahead and threw in some toys when checking out of the pet store.

And by “we,” I mean Clay. With the paltry school allowance my parents give me every month, I can barely afford my bus pass to go to the museum.

I can’t get mad at them—they’re hard-working immigrants paying to get me through school.

I don’t have time for a job, so I can’t simply buy out pet stores at the drop of a witch’s hat.

But Clay is apparently well off; he spends money like it’s not a big deal, and I’m not sure if it’s all the stipend from the Organization of Monster Enhancement—we all call them the homies at the OME—or from like, a water polo scholarship, or whatever.

That voice in my head that resents jocks for getting everything is still there, but it’s quieter now because Clay has really shown up for this little animal.

For almost two weeks, I’ve gone to Clay’s dorm in the evening to visit our bat.

And each time, Clay has been a superb fur parent.

Maybe it’s a vampire kindred spirit thing, but regardless of the reason, he’s been nothing but caring.

He changes the lining, makes sure the blanket covers him during the day to keep his little box dark, and changes the bandages just the way the vet told us to.

This jock has shown me his nurturing side, and his competence is attractive AF…I mean admirable. Admirable AF.

I knock on his dorm door as usual and I hear him say “Come in!”

I walk in and smile. “Hey!” I turn to my left. “Hey, Yuki.”

His roommate gives me a fake smile, then quickly packs up his things. Before I can tell him he doesn’t need to leave, he dashes off. Does he also have vampire speed? He’s been generally accommodating to me and our bat, but I haven’t gotten to know him. I don’t even know if he’s a monster or not.

Clay is sitting on his bed, slowly unraveling the dressing from the bat’s wing as it lies down on a towel on his lap. I take a seat next to them. “How’s he doing?”

“Bat Nathanson is a trooper. Check it out.” Clay removes the last bandage. I notice he’s using gloves as instructed and I try to ignore the fact that our thighs are touching. He smells damn good, too. Focus, Owen.

“How’s the wound?”

“All but gone.” Clay gently lifts him up to me. “Just like the doc said it would be.”

“Aw, he’s healed now.”

“Yup. Our baby is almost ready to leave the nest.”

My head goes dizzy with a rush of emotions.

The idea of us being co-parents is a little too thrilling, and the thought of this ending is a little too disappointing.

Why should I care? I want the bat to get better, and I want my friend—no, lab partner— and me to pass the class.

Then life will go back to the way it was before.

I shake my head and open my backpack. “I have the notes from class.”

“Oh, sweet, thanks.” He puts our pet back in the terrarium and shuts the glass door.

“You can copy them.” I take a pair of gloves from his desk which now exclusively houses bat things—I hope we don’t get in trouble with the staff. “Meanwhile, I’ll take a turn feeding BN.”

“Blood bottle is in the fridge,” he says.

He picks up the notes and scrutinizes my work while I open the terrarium.

We spend the next several minutes quietly doing our respective tasks.

He asks questions about what he missed in lecture while I coddle the bat.

The fuzzy thing slurps the red liquid from the bottle, and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was smiling.

The fact that he’s almost healed makes my heart flutter.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Clay and I are so damn domestic.

And each day I like it more. Visions of us doing this for years flood my brain, but I tamp those down.

I’m going to be a doctor for monsters, and Clay is going to slowly age and stay hot and make some other dude happy.

What we’re doing now is not what either of us signed up for.

After an hour, I place the bat back in the glass box. Clay paid for the tower for our pet to hang from, and later leap off of. So, since his wing is now sans-dressing, I place him on the hanging piece of wood. He stands on it for a moment, then falls over, so I catch him. “Woah, there.”

I do it two more times, then frown. “Damn,” I say.

“What?” Clay is now crouching next to me.

“Poor thing.” I glance to my left and see Clay staring in concern.

His beautiful face is lit up by the orange light of the desk lamp.

His high cheekbones, perfectly combed wavy hair, and chiseled jawline are not interesting to me—there’s no way I want to lean in and bridge the three centimeters between his mouth and mine.

“What’s wrong?” Clay asks.

“Bat Nathanson won’t fly.” I place him on the hanging piece, and after two seconds, he falls over. “The doctor said once we remove the dressing, the little guy would happily flap around.”

“Oh no.” The two of us watch as the bat once again prefers the tiny towel bed we’ve made for him. Everyone knows bats should prefer to sleep upside down.

“Maybe we should call the doctor again,” Clay suggests.

“She’ll just give us the same information and then charge us a copay,” I grumble. I bite my lip and remove my gloves. Clay does the same, and we sanitize our hands. His arms bulge fantastically through his black T-shirt, and I lick my lips.

Of course! “I’ve got an idea!” I grin at Clay.

“What?”

“We could do bat rehabilitation. It’s so obvious.”

“Huh?”

“He’s a vampire bat, and you’re a vampire!” I snap my fingers. “It’s perfect. You can teach him how to fly!”

“Wha….what?” Clay looks distressed but I look down at the terrarium.

“Think about it!” I point at the bat in the glass, and he wakes up. Clay leans in, and I notice his pretty face in the reflection. “You can show Bat Nathanson how to fly! Take him almost literally under your wing! It’s perfect!”

“Squeak!” Bat Nathanson smiles at us; if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he understands us.

“See? Even he thinks it’s a good idea!”

“I, uh…” Clay swallows. “I…I don’t…fl y,” he mutters.

We both stand up. “Not fly, glide.” I wave my hand in front of him. “You know what I mean, take to the skies.”

I whip out my phone and pace around. “My friend Tanner knows the best places in the West Woods.”

“Owen.”

“And of course, I’ll be there the whole time. We can even learn about anatomy while you fly around: two bats, one stone! Ha!”

“Owen.”

I keep clicking on my phone. “So, when are you free? I know you have polo practice, and you’ll probably be tired after. How about a day that you’re off? The weather is supposed to be nice next week.”

“Owen, I CAN’T FLY!”

I pause at his outburst. Clay looks truly distraught, his sorrowful eyes beginning to glisten.

“What?”

He huffs and his shoulders sag. “I…I have never flown…or glided. I can’t fly,” he admits, voice laced with despondence.

My eyebrows furrow. “But…you’re…”

“A vampire?” he murmurs with a frown.

I swallow. “No, old. You’ve been at this for decades.”

He grumbles and lies on his bed, turning away. I glance at our pet, who seems to frown in the terrarium. The bat’s eyes say, “Go console him,” so I do.

“Hey,” I say, sitting next to him.

“I’m a forty-year-old loser who can’t fly,” he says quietly. He crosses his arms and his lips tremble.

The need to comfort Clay burns so brightly in my heart, I can’t deny it. I rub his back up and down. “Dude, it’ll be okay.”

“No, it won’t,” he replies in a soft tone. “I’ve tried to teach myself for years.”

I never thought a sexy guy like him would have anything to be so self-conscious about. “Clay, I don’t think any less of you just because you technically haven’t flown yet.”

“You don’t?” He turns to me on the bed.

“No,” I reply with a smile.

“Don’t you think I’m just a stupid jock?”

I snigger. “I never said stupid. You’re an athlete, but also a caring guy.”

He gazes at me, hope blooming in his purple eyes. The strangest spark of something else darts between the two of us.

“This changes nothing.”

“What?” he asks.

“Clay, we need to teach Bat Nathanson how to fly.” I point to the terrarium, and our pet squeaks in response.

Clay sits up, and I reluctantly remove my hand from his—chiseled, muscular—back. “But, Owen, I don’t?—”

“And we can teach you how to fly, too.” I stand with renewed energy. “It’s perfect!”

“Huh?”

“You can both learn how to fly together. A vampire and a vampire bat!” I clap my hands. “Anthropologically, this is the coolest thing I’ve ever been a part of! I can take notes and use different colored ink for each of you!”

I rub my palms together, but Clay stares at me like I’m speaking Portuguese. “But…you…” He huffs and asks, “You don’t think I’m a loser because I can’t fly?”

“Heck no,” I reply, hiking up my backpack.

“I thought you detested me.”

I snicker. “I didn’t appreciate you flashing your body to me a week after we met, but I respect your hard work.” I shrug. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but of course, I won’t tell anyone about you learning how to fly.”

Clay looks down and bites his lip in the most adorable way. I can almost see the gears turning in his himbo brain—no, not himbo brain, handsome brain.

Before I can leave, I’m overcome with a sudden force wrapped around me. “Oof!”

Clay…is hugging me?

“Thank you. For not telling anyone,” he whispers.

My eyebrows might not ever go down. I pat his shoulder and absorb his scent for a brief moment. “Mmm…no…problem.”

He backs away, and I make a hasty exit. “Text you later for our next, um…study session,” I say.

“Peace,” he says, and the bat squeaks as I gently close the door.

My mind spins while I power-walk down the corridor, a difficult feat considering the massive hard-on that threatens my jeans right now. Something has shifted between Clay and me, and for the first time in my life, I’m going with the flow.

Because I want to help the two vampires in my life learn how to fly. That’s definitely the only reason my heart is spinning in my chest and I have a goofy grin on my lips.