Page 10 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

The conversation hits a lull when another human trundles up, overladen with a shocking number of dishes. I would help her, but my companions show no willingness to assist. Their customs seem strange to me. One can only provide aid if there will be compensation involved? I don’t understand that mindset at all.

They do appear to appreciate her service, at least.

“This looks fantastic,” Jaz says.

“Thank you so much,” Jen adds.

Tad can’t tear his gaze away from his meal. “You’re an angel. I’m starving.”

She pauses, taking a second look at me. “Whoa. I can’t believe you’re here. In person! Batman is my favorite superhero!”

I’ve had this happen a couple of times before. Usually, they think I’m some celebrity. And if I let her continue, she’ll make the rest of the table overly curious. “I’m not famous. I just look like…” Whoever you think I am.

“Oh. Sorry about that. Anything else?”

“Just some water,” Jen says quickly.

Kind of her. Since I don’t eat in public, I wasn’t certain of the request protocols. I can safely consume water, and hydration is important for many body types. In fact, I have only encountered one being for whom water was toxic. On an interesting evolutionary track, he was. It would be incredibly difficult for him to find pure liquid hydrogen. Of course, he wouldn’t have been able to adapt to the levels of oxygen in this environment, even with respiratory therapy.

“Coming right up!” the server says.

“I wonder which Batman she thought you were.” Jen frowns, tilting her head. “You don’t look like any of them, to be honest.”

Tad glances up from his plate. “Have any Black actors played Batman?”

Jen blinks, seeming confused by the question. “Uh—”

“So we’re missing FarfromHome and Stargazer,” Jaz cuts in.

I have the feeling she interrupted to save me, but I’m unsure why I have that impression. Tad returns to eating as if he hasn’t received sustenance in a long time. Since he’s quite elongated, perhaps he metabolizes food more rapidly than a smaller being. “I wonder what they’re like,” he mumbles around a mouthful of food.

“Chew and swallow before you speak,” Jen suggests.

“Oops. Sorry. I didn’t have lunch. Or breakfast.”

“Why not?” Jaz asks.

“I was driving.”

Jen laughs. “Oh, you’re one of those men.”

“What sort?” he asks.

Jen and Jaz share a look, then Jen does a low, gruff voice. “‘Can’t stop. Driving. Can’t eat. Driving.’”

Tad grins a bit, showing only a hint of teeth. “That checks out.”

“I wouldn’t have thought that about you,” Jaz says.

“How well do we really know each other?” I ask, conscious that I’m keeping a huge secret. It felt ironic at first. Now I’m just a bit sad that I can’t tell the truth.

“Everyone wears masks,” Jaz puts in.

She nibbles at the edges of her meal, seeming…hmm. I don’t know how she seems. Human faces are interesting to me and mobile, certainly, but I don’t always understand what I’m seeing, despite many hours logged studying them like an observational scientist. But now that I’m paying closer attention, Jaz doesn’t appear as emotive as Jen or Tad.

Jen nods. “It’s because we want people to like us and not realize that we’re all secretly bundles of hidden anxiety.”

“What are you anxious about?” Tad asks. He’s devoured most of his food already.