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Jennette

I have a huge crush on someone I’ve never even met.

Depending on your definition, it might not be the first time either.

Do fictional characters count? If they do, then I’ve fallen many times, usually with aliens in video games.

Why romance humans when I can experience the glorious fantasy of hooking up with a sexy purple person with three eyes and head tails?

I’ve got a soft spot for monsters in certain romance novels too.

Trust me, horns and tails are no obstacle.

But this is a real person, someone I’ve been talking to online for about six months.

Seeker is part of a group chat that I started, funneling invitations through direct messages on the Aliens Among Us website.

I staunchly believe that online friends are every bit as important as in-person connections.

These days, my in-person friends are a bit scarce.

My high school friends aren’t in town anymore, and my college friends have scattered, which leaves me with work acquaintances.

I’m a bit lonely, actually. But sometimes, the streams can cross.

Or at least I hope that’s true. Because my online friends agreed to go to Rellows, Utah, which is a really special place.

They’ve been hosting Outer Space Con—a.k.a.

Space Con—since the seventies. It’s a quirky little town and I can’t wait to explore all the strangeness it has to offer.

My phone rings. Glancing at the number makes me sigh as I answer, “Hi, Mom.”

“You’re not really going off alone to meet a bunch of strangers from the internet, right? Tell me Glynnis got that wrong.”

Glynnis is my little sister and she’s never once opted not to tattle on me. Not since I stole some chocolate chip cookies that were meant for the school bake sale when I was seven. This time, however, I was counting on how regularly she reports in. It saves me making the phone calls anyway.

“It will be fine. I have my own room.”

At the silliest motel in the world. There are only twenty rooms, and each is decorated in a different space theme. Unless you get lucky like I did, it requires reserving a year in advance to stay in the Jupiter room; apparently, it takes two years to stay in Uranus.

The housing situation quickly becomes untenable during Space Con since Rellows doesn’t have the infrastructure to support the sheer volume of visitors that descend on the town annually.

There’s an RV park that fills up completely, and people are permitted to pitch tents on a vacant lot on the outskirts of town for the duration of the con.

From all the reading I’ve done, locals rent rooms in their houses and even set up sheds and outbuildings to accommodate the sudden influx of tourists.

Pictures online make it look like Mardi Gras got drunk and had a baby with San Diego Comic-Con, only that baby was an alien.

And I cannot freaking wait to immerse myself in the weirdness.

Attending this con is the reason I was born.

Well, that and my job. But honestly, I got into astronomy because of my mild obsession with confirming that we’re not alone in the universe.

The long pause tells me that my mother is trying to find something supportive to say.

Recently, she read a how-to book on the value of positive reinforcement, and since she used to nitpick constantly, this is a good change.

I let her sort through objections until she finally settles on, “Well, I’m glad to see you trying new things.

Even if I don’t agree with the risks you’re taking.

Why don’t you invite your sister? Just in case. ”

I count to ten silently. “Because Glynnis isn’t interested in Space Con. If she went, she would be bored.”

She’d also complain the whole time.

Mom offers another terrible suggestion. “Why don’t you invite Nina then? You never talk about her anymore.”

That hurts.

“We lost touch,” I remind her. “She’s busy. New life in Sacramento.”

Besides, even if I had someone to go with me, I’d still rather make an impression on my own.

I don’t need Glynnis telling my online friends what a humongous dork I am.

And seeing Nina after all these years would be beyond awkward too.

If my Aliens Among Us friends still like me once we’ve hung out in person, then I can remove the online qualifier and they’ll just be friends, right?

I’ve always found it difficult to bond with people because I can be a little obsessive about things that interest me.

So it makes sense to befriend people with similar hobbies who won’t get tired of theoretical talk about what kinds of aliens would live on an aquatic planet with heavy gravity.

I have some extremely specific ideas.

“I want you girls to get closer. I won’t be around forever. Your poor father…”

My dad died last year. Lung cancer. He was only sixty-eight too.

My parents were both older when I was born, forty for my dad, thirty-eight for my mom.

She had a whole career as a teacher for a long time, and they thought she couldn’t have kids, when suddenly, she thought she was going through early menopause, and surprise!

Nope, it was me. My sister stunned everyone by coming along two years later, and my parents were both befuddled to suddenly have two daughters when they’d basically given up on babies.

“Are you still running with the Whiskey Tango Foxtrots?” I ask pointedly.

My mom joined a senior group called WTF, and they’re constantly challenging themselves.

First they did water aerobics together, then it was dance class, and now they’re low-impact jogging.

I love the idea, but since my mom got in shape thanks to their activities, allusions to her imminent demise don’t hold much weight anymore.

“Three times a week,” she answers, seeming not to get the connection. “And then we eat a big pancake breakfast.”

I laugh because my mom is truly living her best life. “Sounds awesome.”

At least we’re not talking about Glynnis or Space Con anymore. Thankfully, the diversion seems to have worked. Mom chatters on, sharing the tea on various ladies in her circle. “And then I found out Lulu is dating a forty-eight-year-old. Imagine! She’s sixty-two!”

“Get it, Lulu.”

“Jennette!” Then my mom giggles. “You know what? I saw selfies of them together and he doesn’t look too young. It’s the beard, I think. They make a cute couple.”

Forty-eight is certainly old enough to do whatever he wants. And apparently, he wants to do Lulu. I’ve met her a couple of times, and she reminded me of Blanche from The Golden Girls , with similar Southern charm and a flirtatious manner.

A few minutes later, Mom hangs up without remembering that she needed to finish scolding me about Space Con and random internet strangers.

As of yesterday, I’m officially on vacation, and I’m leaving in a little while.

From Ontario, Oregon, to Rellows, Utah, it takes between seven and eight hours, depending on how fast I drive and how often I stop along the way.

I’m the type who absolutely will stop for a cool roadside stand or to investigate a giant ball of twine or a “unique bones” museum housed in a former gas station.

I could have flown, but it’s easier to pack all my costumes and prosthetics and special effects makeup in the back of my Scion xB.

Truthfully, the suitcase dedicated to cosplay is bigger than the one for my regular clothes and toiletries.

I check everything for the tenth time before I’m satisfied.

Time to load the xB. It’s a boxy little beauty, light blue and low mileage.

I bought it pre-owned several years ago, supposedly from someone who only used it to run errands and go grocery shopping, so it has less than fifty thousand miles even though it’s an older model.

And there’s plenty of room for everything I’m taking to Space Con.

My neighbor waves as I drag the last suitcase out the front door.

Nancy will be taking care of my cats and houseplants while I’m gone.

She’s in her forties, recently divorced, and just moved into the other side of the duplex.

But I’ve known her much longer, as she handled property management for her ex.

Technically, she’s my landlady too since she got the building as part of her separation agreement, but she’s more interested in my cats than my personal business.

To be fair, Scotty and Spock are the best cats in the world.

I will tolerate no disagreements. Scotty is a plump orange and white lad while Spock is a sleek gray Abyssinian mix with sensitive ears.

They’re both neutered and they couldn’t be cuddlier if they were lapdogs.

Right now, they’re both on the top tier of the cat condo by the window staring out at me wistfully.

Scotty puts a wee, pink-beaned paw on the window while Spock tries to mind meld me.

Come back inside, human. We need you to open our cans.

I almost run back inside for one more snuggle session.

No. I must be strong. Space Con or bust!

Circling back to my original point, I invited everyone in the group chat and they all agreed it sounded like a good time, thank goodness. But I held my breath waiting for Seeker’s response. He’s the one I’m dying to meet.

Unless I’ve forgotten how it goes, we’ve totally been flirting for the last three months, and I’m so into him it’s embarrassing. I tap my phone screen and reread what he said to me last night, holding back the squee with great effort.

Seeker: Can’t wait to meet you in person.

Jeneticist: Likewise. Really looking forward to it.

Seeker: I’ve been counting down the days since we decided to do this.

Jeneticist: OMG. Me too. ??

I’m like a teenager; it’s been ages since I was so excited to spend time with someone.

I haven’t seen any pics, but I don’t care.

Looks are secondary to me since I don’t experience visual attraction.

Sure, I’m aware when people are attractive, but I admire them the same way I do a painting or sculpture.

But I’m deeply, profoundly drawn to Seeker.

I hoard facts about him in a notebook. Told you I’m a dork.

I don’t know his full name, but he said to call him Tam. Or Seeker, whichever I prefer.

I get in the car and close the door, then buckle in. After almost a year of chatting online, I’m finally gonna meet him in person.