Page 12 of Uprooted

Elowen

I yawn and push back from the desk. The room is much brighter now than when I first hunched over my microscope late last night.

Oh shit—it’s morning.

The only natural light in MuraDome IV comes from high narrow windows I’m too short to see out of.

Exhaustion has kicked in. I can’t decide if I’m more hungry or tired.

Both, equally. My stomach rumbles loudly.

I’m still getting used to the twenty-eight-hour days here on j'Tilak.

I typically finish up in the lab and go straight to my bunk to pass out, but last night I totally lost track of time and ended up working much later than usual.

The airlock engages and blasts me with steam before I’m released to the locker room. My steri-suit hangs unzipped from my waist while I splash some cold water on my face. I jump when the door crashes open with a loud bang.

Bri bursts in. “Where were you last night?”

“I am so sorry. Right when I was finishing up for the night, a new specimen was delivered marked ‘Urgent,’ and I totally forgot. Can I buy you a bowl of noodles to make up for it?” I muster my most apologetic tone.

“I already ate breakfast, but I’ll have a coffee while you eat. And you can’t ‘buy’ free noodles. It’s going to take a lot more to get you out of this. You owe me.”

I haven’t stopped working around the clock, even though the newness of the research has worn off and most people have settled into a routine which includes off time. Not me. I worry it’s only a matter of time before Bri takes it personally and realizes I’m a terrible friend.

“Girl, you need a shower.” Bri takes a giant step away from me.

“I’ll just throw on a fresh shirt,” I tell her. I’m hungry and want to eat before I pass out.

“I think you’re overestimating the power of clean laundry.” She laughs and waves her hand over her face, wafting air towards herself.

I pull on a white T-shirt and drop my steri-suit in the laundry chute. A shower will have to wait.

“Come on, I’m starving. I will explain the anatomical features of the flower I’m working on.”

“Please, no.” Bri fake cries.

We push our way through the crowd of people leaving the mess.

Cleaning bots swarm most of the tables, wiping them down and sweeping underneath.

I grab the last bowl of noodles. It's cold and slightly congealed.

I make my way towards an open spot, Bri at my heels with a freshly refilled cup of steaming coffee.

There is a raucous group of Tilaks at the other end of the room.

The gorgeous aliens are impossible to miss.

They appear nearly human, outside of their color and size.

Similar facial features, only their brows, cheekbones, and chiseled jaws are more prominent.

Hard interior plates and sinew protect their vital organs, making them look even more fierce and imposing.

This morning they all match in their white short-sleeved shirts tucked into khaki cargo pants.

Bri and I sit down opposite each other, and I tear my gaze away.

“Like what you see?” Bri asks.

“Just observing,” I answer innocently. “So, what did I miss last night?”

“If I’m being honest? Not much. Dr. Lee and I tried to teach a few of the security guys Cubes.

They weren’t into it.” She slouches back into her chair with a huff.

I’m surprised Bri got her program director to play Cubes.

He’s old and stuffy and, unlike Dr. Kahn, has never given us permission to call him by his first name.

“I’m really sorry. I would have made it worse though. I’m terrible at that game.”

I look up to give Bri an apologetic smile and something catches my eye behind her.

I accidentally make eye contact with a Tilak over her shoulder.

I avert my gaze so it doesn’t get awkward, but my eyes wander over again and he is watching me with a smile spread across his flawless face.

It takes a second for me to recognize him.

He’s the Tilak that helped Bri with her puke bag when we first got here.

I smile back and give a halfhearted wave in his direction.

“I think kicking your ass at Cubes is exactly what I need to cheer me up,” Bri says.

“I don’t think I was made for this life.

Being stuck in a muradome is way worse than I thought it would be.

They keep denying my requests to leave! They say I don’t have sufficient reason to leave the dome, and ‘ muradome security must be prioritized over individual requests.’" She mimics the deep Tilak accent speaking the universal language.

“Bri, I…” My eyes drift from Bri’s face to the Tilak again, and my train of thought evaporates. He is still staring at me and smiling. “I, uh—”

She notices I’m looking past her and turns to see what—who—I’m looking at. She bites the corner of her mouth trying to suppress a smile and looks back at me with one eyebrow raised.

Before I can remember what I was about to say, he stands up and approaches our table.

I try not to stare as he walks toward us.

Definitely not looking at the low-slung pants on his waist. Or the white T-shirt stretched across his broad chest. I look everywhere except his half-cocked smile and refuse to acknowledge when he pushes his dark hair away from his face.

His hair waves casually back, looking effortlessly handsome.

His dark eyes narrow on me as he approaches.

I feel like I’m in one of those vintage vids, the ones where the camera zooms in and pulls back at the same time. The movement messes with my head. The focal point looks like it’s getting closer and farther all at the same time. I’m almost dizzy by the time he gets to us.

Panicking, I look around the room searching for an escape route.

I have been working around the clock and can’t remember the last time I showered or ran a brush through my hair.

Bri’s comment about needing a shower was accurate—I’m disgusting right now.

This is not my idea of a good first impression.

And to top it off, Bri is loving every second of my torture.

He stops at the edge of our table. “Good morning, ladies,” he says without looking away from me .

I clear my throat and swallow my food. “Good morning.” I try to make my voice sound casual. I’m not fooling anyone. Bri sits there lapping up my awkwardness. Her eyes darting between me and the alien.

“Good morning,” Bri says in an overly chipper voice. “Elowen and I were just talking about how our applications to leave the dome keep getting denied. You don’t happen to know how to get those approved?” she asks sweetly.

“You’re Elowen? I’m Aro.” He doesn’t look toward Bri once.

“And I’m Bri. You can call me ‘Elowen’s friend,’ since that’s all you’re going to remember from this riveting conversation.” There’s an edge to her voice. She’s only partially joking.

“Enjoying your noodles this morning?” he asks with playful interest, completely ignoring Bri’s snarky comment.

“Come to think of it, these are better than yesterday’s,” I quip back.

“Aro! You’re going to be in deep shit if you’re late again.” Aro looks over his shoulder to see his friends leaving.

“You go ahead. I’ll catch up,” Aro tells them. He sits down on the bench and slides up next to me.

“Make yourself at home,” Bri says.

“‘I’ve seen you before, at the reception after the signing ceremony,” Aro says to me.

“You were there?” I ask. A bite of cold noodles lodges in my throat. I set my chopsticks down so I don’t choke to death in front of this gorgeous being.

“I was. I haven’t seen you since you landed. I wondered if you were hiding.”

“I’ve been around. Maybe you just haven’t been paying attention,” I reply. This guy’s arrogance is making me feel feisty.

“Not possible, I would remember,” he says confidently.

“Elowen’s what we call a workaholic,” Bri interjects.

“Workaholic?” he asks, testing the word out.

“Someone who only cares about work,” she explains.

“I don’t just care about work. I like other things too,” I say.

“Like what?” he asks.

“I don’t know! You can’t put someone on the spot like that. It’s like asking a comedian to say something funny,” I say .

“I’ve heard your jokes. I’m not sure that’s the analogy you want to go with,” Bri says with a grin.

“Oh yeah? Well, what do you call a flower and her best friend? Buddies!” I’m the only one laughing at my joke.

“Oh, wow…” Aro says with a slightly frightened look in his eyes.

“I told you she’s a workaholic,” Bri says to Aro under her breath.

“That’s a bad example. Regardless, I’m not a workaholic,” I say to both of them.

“I’d love to stay and let you redeem yourself from that awful joke, but I do need to get to work.” Aro shoots me that crooked smile for a few additional seconds before he turns and walks out the door.

“Thanks for help with the barf bag!” I call after him, but it’s too late—he’s gone. That’s fine. I don’t like how desperate I sounded.

“That was interesting," Bri says, sipping from her cup.

“Did I just make a complete fool out of myself?” I ask.

“A little bit,” she says.

I groan and rest my forehead on my palm. “I panicked.”

“It’s criminal to look that good,” Bri says.

“They certainly don’t make them like that on Earth… That’s the last we will be seeing of him. I think I sufficiently scared him off with that joke.”

“That’s too bad. That would have been a fun little distraction,” Bri says.

“Probably for the best. I can’t afford any distractions.”

“You’re just proving my point for me.” She mutters a little more under her breath. I swear I hear the word “workaholic” in there somewhere.

“I am going to take me and my corny jokes to bed. I’m exhausted.”

“Make sure you go straight to your bunk, and not to the security hub to your new boyfriend!” Bri calls after me. Trying not to smile, I shoot her a look as I drop off my half-eaten breakfast in the trash receptacle on my way out.