Page 5 of Alien Jeopardy

“I’m signing us all up. For this show.” Poppy turns her phone screen so we can see it.

“Okay,” I shrug. “Why not?”

“What kind of show?” Lu asks.

Poppy squints at her, trying to figure out what her slur meant.

“We’ve applied a gazillion times and never gotten in,” Lily says with a shrug. Her dark brunette bob grazes her shoulder, and she’s so pretty it would make me sick if she weren’t my friend.

“You’re all so pretty,” I tell them.

“Focus.” Poppy bellows the world, a drunken nightie-clad drill sergeant. “It’s a combination adventure and survival,” her tongue trips over the words, and she clears her throat.

“Sotally tober,” I tell Lu.

Lucy nods knowingly. She tries to wink at all of us, but only succeeds in blinking very slowly.

“Combination adventure and survival—” Lily starts.

“And dating!” Poppy interrupts, holding a finger up.

“Fuck it,” I say, holding my now empty margarita glass up to cheers the girls. Half clink against mine, and then we’re refilling our glasses.

“Okay, good,” Poppy says, slightly breathless. “When?”

“Do they have an ASAP option?” I ask on a laugh. The idea of getting out of my life even for a little bit sounds amazing. Getting to do one of the shows I’ve been obsessed with since I was a kid with my best friends sounds even better.

“They do,” Poppy confirms. “Here. I have a tab filled out for everyone separately. Just pass it around and fill in your socials and sign electronically.” She beams at us.

It takes us all way longer than it should, between trips to the bathroom to pee, making another pitcher of margaritas, and forgetting how to spell my last name.

But we get it done.

And before we’ve drunk our seventh pitcher of frozen margaritas, we’re all signed up for the reality TV show Poppy found.

Somewhere between the start and finish of the eighth pitcher, the couple on TV are breaking up for other singles, Poppy’s tapping away furiously at her phone, and the rest of my friends are passed out.

Lucy’s snores are impressive and alarming, to be honest. I yawn, half-asleep myself.

So when blue light streams through my apartment window, the TV blinking on and off and Poppy standing up on wobbly drunk legs—in her heels—I’m pretty sure I’m dreaming.

Because there’s no way I’m really seeing what looks like a spaceship.

That would be silly.

CHAPTER

TWO

Ka-Rexsh

It’s too good to be true.

Surely, there is a trap here somewhere.

I glance around at the four other Draegon males, but if they’re worried about this joint-species initiative, they don’t show it.

Standing straighter, I flex my wings, running a hand over a horn.