Page 11

Derek

After dinner, Kav’eth walks me back to my quarters with an almost nervous energy that’s completely different from his usual composed formality. His bioluminescence keeps flickering in patterns I’m starting to recognize as anticipation mixed with anxiety.

“I will return in approximately thirty minutes,” he says, stopping outside my door. “To begin our… non-assessment social interaction period.”

“You mean our date,” I say, grinning at his careful phrasing.

“Yes. Our date.” The blue flush spreads across his cheekbones. “I have prepared an appropriate environment for human courtship activities.”

Something about the way he says that makes me slightly concerned. “Courtship activities?”

“Romantic interaction protocols,” Kav’eth clarifies, looking pleased with himself. “I have researched extensively to ensure optimal experience parameters.”

“Right. Of course you have.” I can already tell this is going to be interesting. “Should I… dress differently? Change clothes? I don’t exactly have a lot of options here.”

“Your current attire is adequate,” Kav’eth says, though his eyes do that flickering thing where they trace over my body before he catches himself. “The environmental modifications will provide appropriate romantic ambiance.”

“Environmental modifications,” I repeat. “Okay, now I’m definitely curious. Should I be worried?”

“Not worried, no. I have followed established protocols for human romantic engagement.” He straightens his formal attire with precise movements. “Thirty minutes, Derek.”

And then he’s gone, leaving me standing in my doorway wondering what the hell “established protocols for human romantic engagement” means when researched by an alien who gets his information from cooking shows.

I use the time to clean up, sonic shower, fresh clothes from the limited selection provided, an attempt to make my hair look less like I’ve been swimming in alien pools all day.

The geometric tattoo patterns are clearly visible against my skin, the dark lines sharp against the ship’s ambient lighting.

The thought sends a thrill of anticipation through me that has nothing to do with curiosity about his “romantic protocols” and everything to do with the memory of how he looked at me by the pool, like he wanted to devour me but was too controlled to act on it.

Maybe tonight that control will finally crack.

When I emerge from my quarters exactly thirty minutes later, Kav’eth is waiting in the corridor, looking like he’s prepared for a formal diplomatic function.

His attire is immaculate, his posture perfect, and his expression suggests he’s about to give a presentation to the Council rather than go on a date.

“Ready?” he asks, offering his arm in a gesture that’s probably meant to be romantic but comes across as escorting me to a state dinner.

“Ready,” I confirm, taking his arm and noting the way his bioluminescence brightens at the contact.

He leads me back toward the dining facility, but instead of entering the main room, he guides me through a side passage I hadn’t noticed before. The corridor opens into a smaller space that I think was probably designed as a private meeting room, but has been… transformed.

The lighting has been dimmed to what someone might consider romantic levels, though it’s almost too dark to see properly.

The furniture has been rearranged into a more intimate configuration, two chairs facing each other with a small table between them.

There are what appear to be synthetic flowers arranged in a vase, their colors slightly off in a way that suggests they were created by someone who had only read descriptions of Earth flora.

And then there’s the music.

The unmistakable opening harmonies of Boyz II Men’s “I’ll Make Love to You” fill the space, played at a volume that suggests Kav’eth thinks romantic music should be the primary audio experience rather than background ambiance.

I stop dead in the doorway, trying to process what I’m seeing. “Kav’eth. What… what exactly is this?”

“Human romantic courtship environment,” he says, sounding proud of his preparation. “I researched optimal parameters for intimate social interaction.”

The song continues, Nathan Morris’s smooth voice crooning about making love like you want me to, and I have to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Not because it’s funny, well, it is funny, but because Kav’eth clearly put significant effort into creating what he believes is the perfect romantic setting.

“This is very… thorough,” I manage to say. “Where exactly did you research human romance?”

“Multiple digital sources,” Kav’eth replies, gesturing for me to sit in one of the chairs. “Educational videos, social interaction documentation, cultural entertainment media.”

I settle into the chair, noting that it’s been positioned so we’re sitting directly across from each other like we’re about to conduct an interview. “Educational videos?”

“Extensive archives of human romantic behavior,” Kav’eth says, taking his own seat with perfect posture. “Detailed demonstrations of courtship rituals, intimate interaction protocols, and optimal techniques for partner satisfaction.”

The phrase “optimal techniques for partner satisfaction” catches my attention. The pieces start clicking together in my brain, and I have to work very hard to keep my expression neutral. Oh no. Oh god, no. “Kav’eth, when you say educational videos…”

“Comprehensive documentation of human mating behaviors and romantic customs,” he continues, clearly pleased with his research thoroughness. “Though I must admit, much of the content seemed… surprisingly aggressive. Your species appears to favor very direct approaches to physical intimacy.”

Oh my god. He learned about romance from porn.

“Right,” I say slowly, trying to figure out how to handle this without completely destroying his confidence. “And the social interaction documentation?”

“Human social media platforms. Your species documents your romantic preferences and physical attributes quite extensively.” Kav’eth’s bioluminescence brightens slightly.

“In fact, that was how you were originally selected for the compatibility program. Your social media presence indicated ideal genetic and behavioral characteristics for partnership evaluation.”

I stare at him. “You found me through Instagram?”

“Among other platforms, yes. Your documentation of physical fitness routines, nutritional protocols, and aesthetic presentation suggested optimal compatibility for our requirements.” He tilts his head slightly.

“Your posts indicated a human male dedicated to physical excellence and personal optimization, qualities highly valued in Nereidan culture.”

“You abducted me because of my workout videos and thirst traps,” I say, not quite believing what I’m hearing.

“I am unfamiliar with that terminology, but if you are referring to your extensive documentation of physical conditioning and aesthetic appeal, then yes. The Research Collective found your public presentation extremely compelling.”

The Boyz II Men song reaches the chorus, the harmonies swelling as they promise to make love all night long, and the entire situation becomes so absurd that I have to press my lips together to keep from losing it completely.

But it’s no use. The mental image of a team of serious alien researchers scrolling through Instagram fitness influencers while taking notes on “optimal human courtship behaviors” from porn sites is too much to handle. I start laughing.

Not a polite chuckle or an amused smile, but full, uncontrolled laughter that makes my eyes water and my sides ache.

Kav’eth’s expression shifts from pride to confusion to concern. “Have I… miscalculated the romantic parameters?”

“Oh, Kav’eth,” I manage to say between gasps of laughter. “You beautiful, ridiculous alien. You learned about human romance from porn and Instagram.”

“The educational content was quite comprehensive,” he says defensively, though his bioluminescence is starting to dim with what I recognize as embarrassment. “Multiple sources indicated these were optimal approaches to human romantic engagement.”

“Multiple sources of porn and social media,” I clarify, getting my laughter under control. “Not exactly representative of how real relationships work.”

The music continues, now crooning about satisfying every need, and Kav’eth looks increasingly mortified as he processes my reaction.

“I have… made errors in my research methodology,” he says quietly.

“Not errors,” I correct quickly, seeing the hurt in his expression. “Just… incomplete data. The problem with learning about humans from porn and Instagram is that both of those are performance, not reality. People post their highlight reels and their fantasies, not their actual lives.”

“I do not understand the distinction.”

I gesture around the room, the too-dim lighting, the artificial flowers, the aggressively romantic music, the formal interview setup. “This is what someone who’s never been on a date thinks a date should look like. It’s technically correct but completely artificial.”

Kav’eth’s bioluminescence dims further, his carefully controlled expression cracking to reveal genuine distress. “I wanted to provide you with optimal romantic experience. I researched extensively to ensure proper protocols.”

“I know you did,” I say, leaning forward in my chair. “And that’s actually really sweet. But Kav’eth, the best romantic experiences aren’t about following protocols. They’re about just… being together. Getting to know each other. Enjoying each other’s company.”

“But the educational materials indicated specific requirements for romantic success,” Kav’eth protests. “Ambient lighting, musical accompaniment, floral arrangements, intimate seating configurations…”

“All of which can be nice,” I agree. “But they’re not what makes romance work. You want to know what would be romantic right now?”

“What?”