Page 41

Jennette

This moment feels as delicate as spun glass.

Seeker has stilled, and I want to touch him so badly that I ache.

But I don’t. Instead, I search his countenance for some sign that he feels the same way.

Yet his features are difficult for me to read; it’s just like the aliens in the games and stories that I’ve loved.

This person is precious to me but also unlike anyone I’ve ever known.

He moves then, just a fraction closer. I reach out, hovering in the space between us, and I don’t think I could make it clearer without asking for verbal permission.

It feels as if the sound of my voice would break the spell.

We probably don’t have long before people shove in behind us to walk around inside the ship.

In answer, he steps into my space and I reach for him slowly.

If this isn’t what he wants, if he’s unsure, he can move back at any point.

His arms—I’m calling them arms because they’re similar, even if he has more fingers—come around me as I get close.

He’s seen many human entertainments so I’m sure he knows what we’re doing.

“Is this okay?” I whisper.

“It is.”

His skin feels warm, but so different from mine. Heat blooms where our bodies align; he adjusts to my body temperature, matching it. I try not to stroke his back too much since I don’t know where his erogenous zones are. I definitely want to learn.

“I’m honored,” I say, trying to keep it light.

I’m failing at that because this feels like…everything. Everything I ever wanted.

When he eases back to gaze at me, there’s something so vulnerable in his gaze that my heart clenches. “Jen…”

I press my face against the warm skin of his neck, where a pulse unlike mine thrums gently.

As I hold him, the realization crystallizes within me like a shard of ice melting away to reveal a dormant seed.

I’m falling for him, so hard and fast that if we revisit the icebreaker games we play in the chat group, I’ll reconsider my answer about skydiving.

Closing my eyes, I nuzzle my face against the velvety skin at his throat and receive a rumble of sound in response.

Somehow, the vibrations feel sexy in a way I can’t articulate.

The spices of his scent brighten. Voices get louder; someone is laughing close by.

And I step back, not wanting the moment to be ruined by someone yelling, “Get a room!”

I let out a faintly unsteady breath. “Should we move on?”

He inclines his head. “Let’s see the rest.”

As I navigate around the replica of the ship, I wonder if it’s tough for him to be here.

Humans can create the illusion of what he needs, but we’re just not advanced enough for me to help him get home.

I can’t give him the stars, but I can offer him a life here, with me, where he’s not just an extraterrestrial—and to others, maybe a specimen—but my partner.

But I’ve already offered to let him move in. I won’t beg or even ask again.

The ball is in Seeker’s court, even if I’m dying to hear his answer.

Even more people have piled into the museum when we exit the crashed ship replica; that surprises me a little. But maybe they’re like me and wanted a break from the con atmosphere. I’ll be ready to go back tomorrow and maybe do some gaming. I wonder if Seeker would enjoy tabletop RPGs.

“Sick costume, dude!” A guy in a gray alien T-shirt has stopped in the middle of the foot traffic, staring at Seeker, the first person who’s given him a second glance.

Seeker pauses, glancing at me for guidance.

“So glad you like it! You wouldn’t believe how long he spent on it,” I say. “Custom-made on our 3-D printer.”

Anything to keep this fanboy looking at me.

“It’s incredible. So realistic. It’s like his eyes are really—”

“Don’t touch! Are you forgetting the first rule of cosplay?”

“Uh, what?”

Maybe he’s not here for Space Con? Possibly there are people in the world who just randomly show up during the busiest week in Rellows because they live an hour away and thought the UFO Museum would be fun. I decide to give him the benefit of the doubt.

I quote from the manual. “Cosplay is not consent. Don’t touch without permission. You need to ask before taking photos too.”

“Oh, right. I forgot how serious you people are about this stuff.”

You people.

I give him a tight smile and tilt my head toward the exit.

Seeker follows me, seeming eager to get out of here, and I feel bad that I suggested he stop using his tech camo.

I’ve never been in his situation, and I blithely dismissed the possibility he could be in danger.

I thought this was the one place in the whole world where he could go unnoticed.

I thread through the bodies, finding the most direct path to the exit.

Outside, it’s unexpectedly overcast. July in Utah is hot and dry; I should know, as I spent hours researching everything related to this trip.

But rare showers do happen, and it seems today is that day.

Maybe that’s why people flocked to the museum, trying to avoid the rain. Even the air smells a little different.

“Do you smell that?” I ask, drawing a deep breath. “Rain’s coming.”

“It probably won’t last long.”

I smile at that because we’re talking about the weather. Nobody else would realize how momentous this is because he’s a newcomer, just learning the patterns and processes here. But small moments like this might make him feel less like an outsider, less a being bound by gravity against his will.

“Maybe we’ll get a rainbow.”

Seeker gazes up at the sky, seeming intrigued by the prospect. “I have only seen representations in photographs online. It’s a fascinating phenomenon, one I have not seen replicated on any other world.”

“Earth has some unique beauty, then?” It’s important for him to think so.

Otherwise, this planet will never be more than a place of exile. I hope that he finds solace in the swirl of high clouds and the scent of impending rain. Maybe then he’ll see that though the skies are out of reach, the world beneath them can still be full of wonders.

Like a life with me.

Okay, that might be overselling the point.

I can’t categorize starting a romantic relationship with me as wonderful , but I hope he’s thinking about it.

Just then, the first drops of rain plink down, cool and refreshing against the lingering heat.

Seeker tips his head back and closes his eyes, seeming to savor the sensation.

“I never understood before,” he says then.

“What?”

“The human obsession with water. You use it for so many things. It’s scarce on many planets and they use it only for hydration. The rains I experienced on Terjan felt oily, and there were other substances in the precipitation.”

I make a face. “That sounds gross.”

“It was. And so I watched from the windows when I got here. I didn’t go out because I had preconceived notions that it would be unpleasant, both from past experiences elsewhere and the way I saw people here fleeing from the rain in visual entertainment.”

“Some people don’t like to be wet, but this feels lovely, especially today.”

If I had a class to teach, I might be one of the people hurrying with an umbrella, but today I’m content to stand as the drizzle sprinkles down, gradually intensifying to fat, cool droplets of rain. Others hurry past us, eager to reach the sanctuary of the museum. I let Seeker set our pace today.

“Water from the clouds, such a gift.” There’s a smile in his voice, though not one I can detect on his distinctive features.

“I love rainy days,” I admit. “Perfect for snuggling up and watching a movie.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He moves toward the car, and I follow. It feels like we’re on the cusp of something, but Seeker holds all the power.

It has to be that way between us because he’s powerless to leave, as he’d prefer.

I would feel like I was taking advantage of him if I pushed for anything before he articulated the words himself.

Inside my xB, it’s dry and overly warm. I start the engine, despite not having the least idea where we’re headed. “Next stop?”

“If you’re amenable, I’ve had enough of other people today.”

Excitement skitters along my nerve endings, though I try to be cool about this. The hot alien wants to get me alone, but maybe he does want to Netflix and chill. Not the euphemism. And I’ll be thrilled to watch whatever he wants, really.

“Send the text to the group saying we’ll hang out with them tomorrow,” I suggest.

He retrieves his phone, likely heeding my advice. “Such a curious turn of phrase when no vertical suspension is involved.”

I could make a sex swing joke here but I decide against it. “Home then. Well. Our temporary home.”