Page 7 of My Alien Angel (Supernova Casanovas #6)

Fin

As soon as I’m certain that Omni is in the bathroom, I lock myself in my bedroom, collapsing on the bed. What a day!

Finally stripping off the murloc costume, I open the group chat with my friends. I doubt they’ll have any advice regarding Omni, aside from calling the police, but I really need to talk to someone.

Me: Code red. Fallen angel in the bathroom.[text bubble]

Imani: I can’t tell if you’ve hooked up with someone or need a plumber.[text bubble]

Caleb doesn’t waste time typing and video-calls me instead. When I accept the call, he adds Imani as well, both of them eyeing me expectantly.

“Well?” Caleb says. “Tell us everything! Was it the Malthael cosplayer? That scythe was so hot!”

“What?” I sputter. “No! That guy was barely legal. And it’s not like that. I didn’t hook up with anyone. I just… Something happened and you’re gonna think I’m stupid because I probably am stupid but—”

Imani looks at me over the rim of her glasses.

She’s not that much older than Caleb or me, but she’s definitely the most mature out of us, the one who has her ducks in actual rows.

My ducks are a disorderly clusterfuck and Caleb, well, half of his ducks are pigeons.

“Fin, calm down and tell us what happened. Start from the beginning. I thought you and Caleb were car-pooling?”

Caleb has the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but I met the sexiest Lara Croft alive and—”

Imani scowls. “And you ditched Fin and left her to drive the entire way home alone?”

“It’s not that far,” I defend Caleb even though she’s technically right.

“I don’t have trouble driving alone but…

” I take a deep breath, then blurt out everything at once, “I saw an angel fall from the sky and I offered him a ride and now he’s in my bathroom and I’m freaking out because I don’t know what to do. ”

There’s a beat of silence as my friends digest my words. “Okay, Finnie, we’re going to need a little more detail than that,” Imani says softly.

“Yep,” Caleb agrees. “A lot more detail. What is the genital situation of said angel? Is he like a Ken doll, or is he equipped to please us filthy sinners?”

“Caleb,” I groan. “He’s not an actual angel. He’s just a very dedicated cosplayer. I think. He’s just so strange. He was all alone in the middle of nowhere and he doesn’t want me to call anyone and gets really freaked out when I mention the police.”

Sighing, Imani rubs the bridge of her nose before rearranging her glasses back into their position. “Infinity, please tell me you didn’t pick up a random criminal and bring him home?”

“I don’t think he’s a criminal. He’s just, I don’t know. Strange. And he looked so hurt and lost. Was I supposed to just leave him there?”

Caleb rolls his eyes. “Fin, your bleeding heart is going to get you killed one day. I have to agree with Imani. This sounds really sketchy.”

Wow, for Caleb to take something seriously, he must really be worried about me.

The thing is, I’m not afraid of Omni. There are secrets surrounding him, yes, but I don’t think he’d ever hurt me.

I doubt my friends would understand that, though.

I quickly recount the whole encounter, stressing that I don’t really know what I saw falling from the sky.

It could have been anything. It absolutely couldn’t have been Omni, though. No one could survive such a fall.

“Unless he’s really an angel,” Caleb points out when I say that out loud. “Or an alien.”

“An alien? Seriously?” I snort. “Now you sound like my mother, Caleb, and that’s never a good thing.

” I love my mom, but she’s not the most sane person.

She communes with spirits and travels to astral planes and does a lot of other weird stuff I’d rather not think about.

And yes, she totally believes in aliens.

“Just hear me out!” Caleb exclaims. “It would make perfect sense. His spaceship crashes, so he wanders alone through the desert. He doesn’t want you to call the police because what would they do?

Hand him over to the military, who’d perform some creepy autopsy on him.

He doesn’t want to take off his wings because he literally can’t.

Oh my god, I bet he has an alien dick. You have to ask him about his dick before he leaves Earth! ”

Exchanging exasperated looks with Imani, I try to get the conversation back into realistic waters. “Focus, Caleb. He’s not an alien, nor is he an angel. He’s just a very dedicated cosplayer.”

“But how do you explain the fact that he understands English but can’t speak it? Surely, that’s not possible without alien technology. Or magic. That would be cool, too.”

I’m about to concede the point, but Imani shakes her head. “What if he’s on the spectrum? Or has a cognitive disability? Not everything needs to be explained with magic, Caleb. We have a thing called science, you know?”

“Don’t be such a spoilsport, doc,” Caleb teases. Imani only recently got her PhD and is still flustered every time people refer to her as doctor. “No one has proven that aliens don’t exist.”

“When I see one, I’ll believe it. Until then, I’m inclined to believe Fin’s guest might be on the spectrum rather than from outer space.

Besides, I actually study space for a living.

I went through terabytes of data from various deep space scans and I haven’t seen a single sign of alien life anywhere. ”

“But you also can’t prove that there are no aliens. So—”

“Guys!” I interrupt them. “Please. Can we focus on my situation, please? I have to make some calls tonight for work and I can’t—”

Stopping their bickering, they both glare at me. “What do you mean, you have to work tonight?” Caleb asks. “It’s Sunday. You never mentioned having any unfinished work. In fact, I recall you telling me you were done with everything until Monday.”

“Yeah, well…”

Imani sighs. “Fin, you need to learn how to tell your boss no.”

“It’s really not that big of a deal. Besides, he’s my boss. I’m pretty sure it’s illegal to say no to your boss.”

“It’s not illegal, Infinity,” Imani glowers at me. “In fact, it’s very much recommended, especially when your boss is an asshole.”

“Why are we talking about my boss and not the man in my bathroom?” I try to change the subject, but neither of them stops scowling.

In the sudden silence, I realize I can’t hear the shower anymore.

“Dammit, I promised to find him some clothes.” Dropping the phone on the bed, I dart for my dresser and pull out the largest pair of leggings I own.

They’ll still be way too short for Omni and will probably hug his ass in an absolutely indecent way, but it’s the best I can do.

Imani’s voice comes from the phone. “This conversation isn’t over, Infinity.”

“It is, and stop calling me Infinity. I gotta go.”

“Send pics,” Caleb pipes up.

“Caleb, I’m not sending you photos of the poor man’s cock!”

The bastard laughs. “Well, I meant the pictures of his costume, of course, but that’d work, too.”

“Oh my god,” I groan. “Why am I friends with you again? I’m hanging up now. I’ll see you on Friday.”

“You will text us with proof that you’re alive tomorrow morning or I’m sending cops to your house,” Imani threatens.

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.” Caleb is opening his mouth, probably to ask for photos again, but I end the call.

God, I hope Omni didn’t hear any of that.

He’ll think I’m nuts. Which I am. What am I even doing?

He could kill me in ten seconds flat and those cops Imani will no doubt call if she doesn’t hear from me would find nothing but my cold, dead body.

Chasing the gruesome thoughts away, I dare to peek into the living room.

No naked cosplayers, which is a relief. Setting the clothes in front of the still closed bathroom door, I make a hasty retreat to my bedroom.

I absolutely do not want to see Omni naked.

I mean, I’m not totally against it per se, but Imani saying that he could be on the spectrum put a dampener on my curiosity.

If Omni truly is on the spectrum or has some sort of cognitive disability, he might not be able to give informed consent.

Not that I want to have sex with him! Do I?

Dammit, why is every man I’m lusting after either fictional or unavailable?

It’s just that, Omni is so sweet and clueless that it’s firing up all of my protective instincts.

I just want to hug and protect him and maybe, just maybe, see if his lips are as soft as they look.

Bad Infinity. No kissing the neurodivergent stranger!

I hear the bathroom door open and then some rustling as Omni, hopefully, puts on the pants. “Fin?” he calls out.

Since hiding in my room isn’t a viable long-term solution, I open the door.

To my relief, Omni is indeed wearing the leggings.

To my mortification, however, they outline his hips and cock in a way that’s definitely illegal.

The rest of his body is bare and I can’t help but let my eyes feast on the sight.

Damn, my angel is built! There are a few scars marring his perfect skin, with one looking suspiciously like a healed gunshot wound. Who is this man?

As my eyes slowly trail up the length of his body, I realize he’s still wearing the wings.

He’s washed them, so now they’re gleaming white, yet dripping water all over my floor.

What’s a little more alarming is that despite Omni being shirtless now, there’s still no sign of a harness, wires or literally anything visible holding the wings up. How the hell are they staying on?

A little frustrated, I grab the mop from the bathroom and start wiping the floor. “You’re not gonna take them off, even now?”

Sighing, Omni takes the mop from my hands. “No,” he replies, sounding somewhat apologetic.

“Of course not. Look, I need to work for a while, so why don’t you watch TV?”

Tilting his head to the side, Omni follows my eyes to the wall-mounted screen, frowning as if he has never seen a television in his entire life.

That’s odd. Even if he is on the spectrum, he must have watched TV at least once in his life, right?

Perhaps he grew up in one of those anti-tech communes like the one my parents live in.

Or he’s been abused, kept locked up somewhere without access to the outside world.

I turn on the TV, watching him warily in case it startles him but he just grins.

Survivor is on and Omni seems captivated.

“You can change the channel or pick something else from one of the other streaming services. I have most of them.” Damn straight I have most of the streaming services, because each of my favorite shows is streamed on a different platform.

It’s annoying. Pulling up the Netflix menu, I hand the remote to Omni.

“Here, you can pick what to watch. There’s a description and—” I pause abruptly as I realize he didn’t want to use the translator on my phone because he couldn’t read the text.

At the time, I thought that was because he was used to a different alphabet, but now I realize the problem might lie elsewhere. “You can’t read, can you?”

My eyes widen when it hits me how rude that question was, especially to someone on the spectrum. “I’m sorry,” I quickly apologize. “I didn’t mean to insult you, I just—”

“I’m sorry, sorry, sorry,” Omni repeats joyfully. “Yes. I’m sorry. I’m sorry car wings filth. I’m sorry shower, uh.” At a loss for words, he points down to the wet floor.

I blink in surprise. Is he apologizing for making my car dirty?

And for wetting my floor? And, most importantly, did he only use the word “sorry” only after I said it?

Have I not said sorry in front of him before?

Scouring my memory, I realize I haven’t, aside from the moment he woke up and freaked out over my costume, and he probably wasn’t paying attention back then.

Which means, he’s definitely learning English words from me.

While understanding me. I’ve never heard of anything like this happening but I’ll have to ponder over it later.

I need to acquire the puppies for tomorrow, and I can’t do that if the owners are asleep.

“Don’t worry about the car or the floor. It’s all fine. Just give me half an hour, and I’ll be right back with you. Is this show okay?” I ask, putting Survivor back on.

“Yes, okay,” Omni replies, grinning at the contestant who just threw up after eating a worm. Yeah, vomiting people are the peak of TV entertainment. “TV okay.”

I know it’s terrible of me, but I can’t help but laugh. “Alright, Tarzan. I’ll be right back.”