"You seem a lot like me," I said. "You don't gawk at me like I'm a freak."
"I'll kick anyone who does." She said.
I laughed. "I think you already did. Or at least smacked him with a racquet."
We laughed in the moonlight, and she placed her free arm on my chest and hugged me, as I stroked her arm.
"Could those be ravens?" She asked, pointing to a flurry of dark wings circling high above the Mansion.
"Those aren't birds—They're bats."
"Bats! I've never seen bats around here, until you moved in." She exclaimed.
"Yeah, we found some hanging in the attic. Jameson set them free. I hope they don't frighten you. They're wonderful creatures." I said.
"It takes one to know one, right?" She joked. I just blushed.
"But don't worry. They never swoop down and get tangled in jet-black hair like yours. Only in mall hair."
"They like hairspray?" She asked.
"They hate it. They know mall hair looks terrible!"
She laughed, and I began softly stroking her hair. She calmed me.
In return, she stroked my hair, which was silky from my gel.
"Do bats like gel?" She asked.
"They love the way it looks with a silk Armani," I teased back.
She wriggled over me and pinned my arms down. I looked up at her with surprise, and smiled. She was expecting a kiss. She was laughing at herself for thinking I could when my arms were down!
"Tell me your favorite thing about bats, Bat Girl," I asked, as she anxiously stared down at me.
"They can fly." She responded.
"You want to fly?" I asked.
She nodded.
I wrestled her over and pinned her arms down. Again, she waited for me to kiss her, but I just stared into her eyes.
"So, what's your favorite thing about bats, Bat Boy?" She asked.
"I'd have to say," I began, thinking, "their vampire teeth."
She gasped.
"Don't be afraid," I said, squeezing her hand. "I won't bite…yet." I laughed at my own joke.
"I'm not afraid. A mosquito bit me!" She explained, scratching like mad.
I examined the mark, which was on her neck. "It's starting to swell. We'd better get you some ice."
"It'll be okay. I get these all the time." She said.
"I don't want you to tell your parents you came over to my house and got bitten!"
I took her into the kitchen and put ice on the tiny wound. We listened to the grandfather clock chime away twelve times.
On the 12th chime, she gasped. "I've got to go!" She exclaimed.
"So soon?" I asked, disappointed.
"Any second my dad will be calling from Vegas, and if I'm not there to answ--