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This year, however, the booth won’t consist of the usual folding table, chair, and a box of business cards everyone immediately throws away. This year will be different—thanks to my mom.

While Zoriss and I have been hovering here, she’s been doing all the footwork. She hasn’t complained. She knows how high the stakes are.

We arrive just in time to catch the parade. Main Street—well, the only street, really—is lined with people. Everyone in the county is here, either performing in the parade or watching it.

“Want to watch?” I ask Zoriss, my eyebrow lifting happily. Although we literally don’t know where we’ll be tomorrow, I can’t hide the smile that stretches across my face. This parade, this town, has been an integral part of my life. These people are one big extended family.

The feeling is bittersweet. Whether or not this ends the way we hope, this will be the last Halloween parade I’ll watch in Crentin.

After parking the hover, we enjoy the festivities. Zoriss isn’t just the only Draalian most people in town have seen, he’s the only alien they’ve seen. He’s met with mostly fascination and just a dash of fear, but he seems more focused on the parade than the stares being directed his way.

Teens on horseback aren’t just walking down the street. They’re threading the needle at a lope as two lines of riders on either side of the street cross over to the other side, one in front of the other requiring precision so they don’t end up in a spectacular crash.

Although most people in town are casting Zoriss sidelong glances, his eyes are wide in that gorgeous reptilian face as he watches in fascination at a culture vastly different from his own.

“Those beasts are big compared to the young females.”

“They’re docile animals, and well trained.”

“Beautiful!”

“Horses,” I inform him, more intrigued by him than the animals.

A display of vintage tractors follows the riders.

I’ve never liked this part of the parade.

It reminds me of how things used to be when all vehicles were powered by non-renewable energy.

And it stinks. I don’t even know how they keep these things running, but many of the farmers love to show off their antique equipment.

After the marching band from the local school plays “Lilium the Beautiful”, the Grand Mistress of Ceremonies gets on the loudspeaker and invites everyone to the Town Hall lawn for the fair.

“You’re sure this is acceptable behavior?” Zoriss asks, still not believing I’ll be okay with what’s coming next.

“We need the money. The question is, are you going to be okay with it?” I ask.

He was absolutely positively not on board when I first proposed this.

He said it would be scandalous on Draal, and disrespectful to me, so at first, he firmly refused.

I kept repeating that old quote “desperate times call for desperate measures” and he reluctantly agreed.

I snag his brother’s coat from the hover, and we follow the crowd to City Hall.

Zoriss said they both had coats like this thick crimson one with gold piping.

It’s his military dress uniform, and it looks it.

He escaped the pirate ship naked, but his brother arrived in his and was kind enough to loan it to us.

The way it looks with the knee-high black boots his brother also loaned him makes me want to drag him to the nearest private room and have my way with him. There’s something about a male in uniform. But we’re on a more important mission.

There’s my booth, in the same spot it’s been for the last eight years. It looks nothing like it has in the past, though. My mom did a great job.

“There’s mom!” I say as I thread my arm through his and hurry toward her.

Mom’s known about my “Drool over Draalians” fixation since it started. For the last three years, she hasn’t even given me any presents for birthdays and holidays. She just transfers credits directly into my Draalian account.

“Oh my. He’s more handsome than you described,” she gushes loudly when we’re still yards away. “Hi, Zoriss!” she says, her voice friendly and open.

He approaches her stiffly, not wanting to break any unwritten protocol, but mom won’t have any of that.

She pulls him into a warm hug and whispers something into his ear.

It’s so hard to tell on his reptilian features, but I think he’s embarrassed.

Scales don’t pinken, but by the dip of his chin and the way he’s avoiding her eyes, I’m dying to find out what she said.

“All right, Emerson,” he says, calling her by her first name. My Draalian captain is shy!

As if she read my mind, she says, “I told him to call me by my first name and that I want to get his first kiss.” When my eyes flare open, she corrects, “Of the day!”

When it’s apparent Zoriss is readying himself to kiss her right this moment, mom says, “Not here,” and pulls him to my booth.

She enlisted some of her friends to help her construct it.

It consists of two sturdy wooden uprights about seven feet tall that hold a six-inch-wide board at table height.

At the top, the stanchions hold a crimson fabric banner that proclaims, “Kiss a Draalian” in gold lettering.

Below it in smaller letters, it says, “by Donation.”

“I’m the first,” my mom yells. As if it was all choreographed, half the women in town hurry to form a line behind her.

My Draalian, his top teeth biting his bottom lip in the sexiest display of bashfulness I’ve ever seen, steps behind the booth and squares his shoulders.

He has no idea how erotic those fangs of his are.

If he knew, he’d pull them back into his mouth.

I think those fangs might have enticed any women who were on the fence about their kiss, because more of them crowd into the back of the line.

Mom gives him a chaste kiss on the cheek, and I can almost feel his relief. I hurry closer and manage the exchange of credits.

“Thanks, mom. For all your help. And this donation? So generous.”

“I just want my daughter to be happy. Is he as nice as he seems?” She’s beaming.

I take a deep breath and once and for all relegate those first few shitty days to the back of my mind.

“Yes, mom. He is.”

I manage the flow of money into my account as Zoriss manages not to damage anyone with his fangs.

“I’m paying good money for this, Draalian,” Edora McPhee demands, “I want some tongue.” She’s one of the oldest women in Crentin. Even her wrinkles have wrinkles. I’m about to intervene, but Zoriss’s expression tells me he’s got this.

“And tongue you shall receive, Ma’am.”

“Oh, this one’s polite,” she says, nodding to her friends at the tail of the line.

Instead of leaning forward, though, Captain takes half a pace back and does his tongue trick, allowing the two halves to twine around each other, first one way and then the other. He’s pegging her with a serious stare.

She places her hand on her chest and tears fill her eyes. I always thought of her as an old woman. She’s been ancient since I was a kid. Mom leans in and says, “She was one of the last on Earth to have a mate, Lumina. I think he’s helping her remember she used to be a sexual woman many years ago.”

I’m dumbfounded.

“He didn’t have to do that, Lumina. He just gave her a gift.”

The older woman totters over to me, and I can see the wetness in her rheumy eyes. I’m shocked by the generosity of the amount she wants to transfer into my account. “I was saving for a rainy day, dear. I can’t imagine anything more important to spend it on.”

“Thank you, Ms. McPhee.”

Shortly after two, I check the balance in my account and see we’ve exceeded our goal by a few thousand credits.

Before the next woman steps up for her kiss, I ask Zoriss to stand me on the horizontal bar that keeps his patrons from reaching in and attacking him. When he realizes it’s none too sturdy, he keeps a firm hold on my hips.

“I want to thank all of you for your support,” I shout to the crowd. “I love this town and I’m so proud of you for coming through for us. I want you to know how much Zoriss and I appreciate this. We’ve met our goal, so we don’t need any more of your—”

“Shut up, young lady,” Lavinia Rose says from her place near the back of the line. “I want my fucking kiss.”

I must admit, it’s shocking to hear the hundred and twenty-year-old woman talk like that.

I hear a lot of grumbles. Many “Me too’s,” gather volume as the sentiment moves up the line.

“Uh . . .”

Mom steps forward. “I propose we let them keep the next five thousand to start them on their wedded journey and put any additional money into the City Renovations Fund.”

“I agree,” shouts Lavinia.

That settles it. The kissing continues until I can barely stand to see my male’s lips on another female.

His gaze flies to mine, a desperate look in his eyes.

Since I became an expert at reading his body language when we were in the cave, I’m pretty sure he’s at the “If I have to kiss one more female I’m going to make you pay” stage.

“Thank you, everyone,” I shout as I snag him around the waist and pull him out from behind the booth. “We’ve got to get on the road.” I don’t feel bad in the least when I realize all the women in line were simply coming back for seconds. The nerve!

I tell mom I’ll meet her back at my house in ten minutes, but Zoriss interrupts.

“I want to try that,” he says, his gaze flicking to a booth on the other side of the lawn. “I’ve been watching whenever I had a free minute. It was easier than looking at the long line of females waiting in line to kiss me. What is it?”

I follow his gaze and see the bobbing for apples booth.

Frankly, I never understood the appeal of this particular tradition.

I still don’t see the allure of half-drowning yourself, dislocating your jaw, and ruining a perfectly good hair day to wind up with an apple that someone else has already taken half a bite out of.

“Bobbing for apples? Really?”