Page 28 of The Stalker Snafu

Fifth lesson in all things magic: Showmanship. Add a personal touch to your act to stand out from the competition.

Emma

I almost died yesterday.

Shit. Seriously?

No, but I got a boo-boo. It might permanently scar.

Sounds like you took the personal touch advice a bit too far.

Julian slept over at Noah’s place to monitor my possible concussion, but it was no slumber party. Being woken every two hours and having water shoved down my throat wasn’t fun for anyone. The pain meds had me disoriented, and I didn’t even remember passing out.

Most of the night was a blur of dreams featuring a pancake dictatorship taking over the world, only broken up by a bright light shining in my eyes, waking me. Julian claimed I’d lectured a nonexistent audience on why elephants were superior to the rest of the animal kingdom in my sleep at some point, but I didn’t remember any of that.

I hoped I’d made a convincing argument, though.

Spending the next day recovering in bed beside a studying Noah was much more fun, until he decided to include me in his study session for our upcoming Music Theory quiz.

“Which pitch source is used here?” He showed me an example on the study guide he’d created.

I barely looked up from the game on my phone where I managed my own coffee café. “Please don’t pull me into this.”

“Answer a few questions, and I’ll bring you some coffee,” Noah offered when I’d refocused on my game.

“I thought I couldn’t have coffee?” I didn’t want to push my luck as I spent eight thousand coffee beans to upgrade my virtual espresso machine. “Because of the possible concussion and all.”

Noah checked the bedside clock. “It’s been over twelve hours since you were tackled by Westcroft’s star linebacker because he was distracted playing fetch. Julian said you’re almost out of the woods, even though the idiot was three times your size.”

I copied Mr. Elephant’s—my most trusted stuffed animal’s—best unamused face, but a strong sense of déjà vu had me feeling dizzy. I frowned. “Did you say a linebacker?”

Noah nodded. “There’s no doubt he’s on the football team. A few of them were playing catch on the quad.”

My mind was stuck on a different thought. “How big did you say he was?”

Noah didn’t glance up from his work. “At least three times your size.”

This time the déjà vu hit me like a train, and I knew I’d heard Noah say that before. “Was his name Rafe?”

The page froze midflip in Noah’s hand. “What?”

“The guy who knocked me out?” I asked, racking my brain for a conversation I could just barely reach. “It might’ve been one of my dreams, but I thought I heard you talking about Rafe yesterday. I hope he doesn’t feel too bad about flattening me like a pancake.”

Noah’s gaze held mine a little longer before it dropped to his book. “I’m sure he’ll be fine. He must’ve apologized half a dozen times before I got you in the car.”

A frown line formed between his brows, but he didn’t say more.

I blinked back at him, but I couldn’t remember anything else about the guy. Apparently he was in my Philosophy class, but that was a full-size lecture hall. I didn’t recall any football players named Rafe.

Then again, I didn’t know any of the football players.

My coffee café game chimed as a new customer entered, and I tapped around the screen to get their order ready.

“So, I can have coffee?” I asked hopefully, but Noah held out his Tonal Harmony study guide before pointing at an example.

“After you answer a few questions. What’s the term for this?”

I barely glanced at the chords he was pointing to before jerking up my chin. “That’s an easy one. Octatonic scale.”