Page 29 of The Stalker Snafu

Noah grinned. “I was just checking to make sure the hit yesterday didn’t affect your memory.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned over him to set my phone on the nightstand. My blossoming coffee empire could wait. “Give me a harder one.”

He scanned through the study guide before settling on another. “All right, look at this example and consider hexachord A to be in prime form. How does hexachord B relate to A?”

I looked between the two hexachords, paying close attention to the location of the notes. Another easy one. “Retrograde inversion.”

Noah smiled in an annoyingly patient way. “Try again.”

“That’s not it? But look at the directions they go—oh.” I lowered the accusatory finger I’d pointed at the page and offered Noah a sheepish smile. “Transposed retrograde?”

“That’s right.”

“Have I earned my coffee yet?” I asked, partially to change the subject but also because I was really thirsty. The bandages on my head itched, and coffee might help take my mind off it.

“One more.” Noah pointed at another example. “Which compositional characteristics are found here?”

I studied the written music. “Polymeter.”

“And?”

I sent him a scowl for the sudden student-teacher vibe he was giving off. But, honestly, I was kind of into it. “Ostinato?”

Noah nodded. “And?”

I sighed, squinting at the chords. “Is this a trick question and there’s really only two right answers?”

Noah smiled, looking entirely too amused for a simple study session. “There’s a third.”

I took my time studying the example and comparing it to the options. “Pentatonicism!”

“Well done,” Noah said approvingly with a much warmer smile.

I tried not to preen.

“Coffee?” I reminded him, shifting around until I was sitting on my hands. I didn’t want to give in to the temptation to scratch at the bandages.

He closed his textbook and slid off the bed. “Once Julian gives the okay, I can bring you a coffee. I’ll see if he’s busy now.”

I gaped at his back as he headed for the door. “You didn’t say there were stipulations.”

Noah disappeared into the hallway, but I didn’t have to wait long for Julian, as he came striding into the room a moment later.

“I heard my patient needed me.” He adjusted his glasses as he rounded the bed, while I made an effort to sit up more. Part of me wasn’t sure how to act around Julian after overhearing Noah’s secret call, but I didn’t want him to think I was a lazy bum. “How’re you feeling?”

Betrayed. “Thirsty.”

He smiled and nodded toward the side of the bed. “There’s a cup of water on the nightstand. But I meant how does your head feel, not your coffee addiction.”

He’d picked up on it that quickly? I didn’t even spare the water a glance. “Much better. It really just feels like a never-ending headache now.”

He hummed and shone the evil light in my eyes, making me look straight ahead as he tried to blind me.

“No nausea?” he asked, holding my chin still.

“None. And no ringing in my ears, or blurry vision, or vomiting,” I answered, listing off the other questions he’d asked me every two hours during the night. “The ceiling light doesn’t bother me, and I don’t feel sluggish. I think I’m fine.”

“Hey now, I’m the one in charge of diagnosing the patient,” he reminded me, clicking off his penlight and letting go of my chin. His blue eyes narrowed as they studied me, and I tried not to stare at his messy bedhead hair. My stomach flipped with guilt at making him and Noah wake up throughout the night. “But, in my professional opinion, you don’t show any signs of a concussion aside from the headache. If you start feeling more pressure in your head, you let me know, okay?”