Page 38 of I Punched an Alien and Now We’re in Couples Therapy

“Don’t think so, toots.” He took the water vase and smashed it on the edge of the table and held up the broken bottle like a blade. “Unless your mate here wants to do something about it.”

“Of all the stupid, cockamamie schemes.” I yanked my arms free of the goon’s grip and shoved him away from me. “You guys are idiots, that’s never going to work.”

“Quiet, toots,” Temu Travolta snapped.

“Call me toots again, you piece of—” A hand came over my mouth before my arms were trapped behind my back again.

Osid picked up the chair he was sitting on and broke it over Temu Travolta’s head. The wannabe gang boss went down like a sack of rocks. Without a word, Osid snapped a leg off the base of the chair and drove it into the eye of the goon behind me. Electricity crackled from the wound, and the android crashed to the floor, dead. The tallest man launched at the king, who tripped him. Osid slammed his hoof into the android’s back as soon as his chest hit the floor. He took hold of the man’s wrists and pulled. The tight cords of muscles strained until the thick veins running along his forearms bulged.

The sight of it did something tingly in my lower belly, and I refused to think about what that said about me. I couldn’t tell if I was terrified or aroused. Terroused? Was that a word?

I missed Google.

With a grunt, Osid ripped the android’s arms clean off and rounded on the blond goon behind him and beat him down with the severed arm. With four of the five goons disposed of, he turned to the final goon and said, “There. She’s protected. Have we passed your challenge?”

Ding!

Osid, the final goon, and I all stared down at the singing Tamagotchi hanging around my neck. Osid’s avatar danced happily next to the affection bar. It was still completely empty, but it lacked the angry red glow it had just moments before.

Fuck. I hated that such a stupid plan worked.

Confetti fell from the ceiling as trumpet music blared from the speakers. The restaurant faded away in a sea of pixels and gave way to a barren gray room with a staircase leading up.

“Trial one completed. The second trial will commence tomorrow morning. Proceed to the panel by the staircase and select your sleeping arrangements. The couple’s suite will become available if all date trials have been met. While sharing quarters is not required, it is encouraged.”

We walked over to the aforementioned panel, which was split into two images. The first was a couple with a line drawn through, while the other was a grayed out couple embracing. Below both options was a list of tasks with the first two crossed out.

Conversation

Defeat villains

Kiss

Osid’s hand cupped my face as he leaned in, but I slapped a hand over his mouth, shoved him away, and pressed the button for the separated pair.

“Not on your life.”

“Separate accommodations accepted. Proceed to the next floor.”

Chapter 18

Blair

The next two floors were much less productive. Instead of another restaurant date or, oh I don’t know, a freaking movie, the Biwban continued on their trauma-bond crusade and simply threw more crap at us to fight. Floor Two involved giant squid people with barbed tentacles and laser-beam eyes.

They at least gave us guns for that one. The trial may not have made me fiend to have babies, but it was fun as shit shooting up a bunch of robot squids. Floor Three was a jungle of man-eating plants. For the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what that could possibly do to bring us closer together. Osid promptly set the room on fire before I ever had to figure that out.

Despite the fact that the entire Crucible was a simulation, the nanobots involved were still flammable. Which seemed like an oversight on their part, given the men on this planet went shooting off flames like forest fires were their personal mission in life. The fire spread out of control quickly, and both the tower and the entire west side of the BCI had to be evacuated to contain the flames.

When I was wrapped tightly in a flame-retardant blanket in the BCI courtyard with a slew of Biwban frantically flying about, Osid tried a different tactic.

“Cut me,” he said.

I stared down at the shiv in my hand. It was carved from a plain black toothbrush. Identical to the one I’d found in the bathroom of my sleeping quarters. I considered the shiv for a moment, letting my finger trace along the sharp edge, then looked up at him. “Assisted suicide seems like a big leap from one rejection, Osid. Have you considered that there might be other fish in the sea?”

“You say such strange things.”

“Me?”