Chapter Eleven #2
Nick had hoped to slink through the hospital unnoticed.
If there was one thing small towns were good at, it was gossip.
Duncan wouldn’t tell anyone about that damn bike, thank god, but if he ran into someone he knew at the hospital, the whole town would start asking if Nick was feeling okay.
But at least they wouldn’t know the real news, which Nick was still reeling over: His mate hadn’t rejected him yet.
She even wanted to be friends with him—probably.
He wasn’t sure how much of that was just her being polite.
Whatever they were, it was leagues ahead of her hating his guts, which was where they were last week.
Nick ran out of the stairwell and straight into Jasper. He grunted as Nick collided into the narrow wall of muscle. Jasper was tall and spindly, but he was still a vampire with all the strength that came with it.
“Whoa, steady,” Jasper said as Nick righted himself. “You good, little guy?”
Nick glared down at him. He had six inches on Jasper.
Jasper snickered, slapping Nick’s thick green arm with his broom. “What, joker can’t take a joke?”
“No, I was just wondering how you’d look shoved under my armpit.”
Jasper flipped him off. “What brings you up here?”
Chester’s room was right behind him. Nick made sure not to look at it as he leaned casually against the wall.
“Just hanging out,” he said. “Heard you guys get good coffee in the cafeteria.”
Jasper gave him an amused look. This is why I like you, he’d told Nick once.
You get into the stupidest shit. This was back when Nick actually got into stupid shit, back before his first, and only, arrest made him more cautious.
Less inclined to do something on a dare or because he convinced himself it would be hilarious.
“Fine. I’m visiting someone,” Nick relented. “Okay? Is that allowed? Can I pass, O mighty janitor?”
Jasper glanced behind him at Chester’s door. Nick waited for him to say something. For a second, it looked like he might. But Jasper just stepped back, patted Nick’s shoulder as hard as he could—Nick valiantly held back a wounded noise—and headed for the stairs.
“See you at Sour Claw,” he said.
Nick crept toward Chester’s door. There was a radio playing old show tunes, almost drowned out by the dragon’s scornful commentary.
“Better not go with him, you idiot hussy,” Chester muttered.
Nick assumed he was reading a book. Nick hoped that meant he was in a good mood. After all, he’d been overjoyed to tear Nick’s terrible Shakespeare opinions to pieces. He pushed open the door cautiously.
“My orange juice better have pulp this time,” Chester called. “But not too much— Oh. Hello.”
Nick waved.
Chester squinted at him through his thick glasses.
He was holding a book, probably the source of that idiot hussy.
His eyes were clear, his scaly fringes no longer drooping.
He had a slipper on his unwrapped foot, silkier and less worn than the ones he’d been wearing when he fell.
Nick had the horrifying thought that Chester could tell he’d slept with Vi just by looking at him, which was ridiculous.
Still, he was sweating as he slunk into the hospital room.
“You’re . . . here,” Chester said slowly. “Did you have more awful literature opinions you wanted to share? Because I have a bedpan under the bed, and I won’t hesitate to smack you with it.”
Nick sat down in the plastic chair someone had dragged next to the bed. “I need a favor. But something tells me you’re going to love it, so really I’m doing you a favor. You’re welcome.”
Chester’s eye twitched. “What favor are you doing me?”
Nick thought about grabbing the old dragon’s hand and kneeling on the floor. He seemed like the dramatic type who’d appreciate that. But Chester looked a lot less amused than Jasper, so he settled for leaning forward.
“Tell me how to make sense of Austen,” he begged. “It sounds like gibberish. I have to figure out what everyone’s saying by the reactions. Like, Oh, she’s mad. He must’ve said something insulting.”
Chester made several wordless noises before he managed, “I thought you already did Persuasion.”
“That session got cut off. We’re doing it again next week.”
“Alright.” Chester rubbed his long snout. “Hmm. Have you tried reading anything that talks about the book? I always had an easier time reading classics once my teacher went over them in class.”
“I have! I’ve been watching YouTubers talk about it, which has made it easier. But—”
He pulled the discussion sheet out of his jacket. It was so wrinkled, he would’ve struggled to read it if he hadn’t already memorized the questions. “How the hell do I answer these?”
Chester reached like he was going to take the paper, face twisting when he saw how ruined it was.
“I can’t tell you that,” he scoffed.
“Yes, you can! I’ll make it sound like me when I say it. Just gimme a nudge.”
Chester gave him a flat look.
Nick fought the urge to shake him. It was probably bad form to shake an elderly dragon with one wing and a broken leg, who definitely wouldn’t find it as funny as Nick would.
“Come on,” he tried. “Vi asked me about the letter scene and I made a total ass out of myself.”
“And? What do you think now?”
“It’s fine.”
“Fine.” Chester folded his lips over his fangs, looking as if he’d like to bite right through them in pure frustration. “The greatest love letter in fiction, and it’s fine?”
“I haven’t gotten to it yet!”
Chester groaned, flopping back against the pillows. “God. Have you got the book?”