Page 23 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

“There’s no such thing as just ‘a little bit,’” Tad says angrily.

“You have to report him,” Poppy says.

Much as I don’t want to make a big deal of this, she’s right. If he did that to me with fifty people looking on, how does he behave when he’s alone with a starstruck fan? My stomach roils, but I’m committed. Space Con has signs posted about what we should do if we experience something that makes us uncomfortable, so I follow the procedure and find a volunteer in a yellow polo shirt. Her name tag reads, Hi! I’m Sarah, and I’m here to help.

“I need to file a report,” I say softly.

She escorts me to the small tent set up for handling such issues. The day is heating up, and people swarm around outside, heading off to have fun. I hate that I’m holding up the group and spending more time on that asshole, but it has to be done. It takes almost an hour to complete the process. She’s extremely supportive and documents everything.

Sarah wears a grim expression. “We won’t invite him back,” she promises. “And I’m so sorry he did this. We’re getting in touch with his management and canceling the rest of his appearances here.”

“Wow.” I honestly didn’t expect such swift action. “Thank you.”

“I hope this didn’t ruin your experience at Space Con.”

“Not at all. I appreciate how you’re handling this.”

The others are all outside, waiting. Seeker seems to have worn a track pacing. He volunteered to come inside with me, but I opted to face it on my own. And I feel…stronger. That’s the only word. Even if something leaks and I end up being reviled on social media with people saying I’m nowhere near cute enough for Colin to creep on me, I don’t care.

“You okay?” Poppy asks.

“Yeah. They’re terminating the rest of his sessions,” I say.

“Wow. That’s awesome!” Poppy punches the air as if we’ve won a major victory.

“I didn’t realize what it’s like,” Tad says in a sober tone. “I mean, you hear things, of course. But I’m a big goober, and nobody bothers me.”

“Is it customary to have such attention forced upon you?” Seeker asks.

“It happens more than it should,” Poppy admits.

Ravik has been very quiet. “I do not care for this place at all,” they finally say.

I’m not sure if they mean the tent where I made my report, the fairgrounds, or Rellows in general. Heck, Ravik might feel that way about Earth. Sometimes I do too.

“I stopped attending cons for a while because it was so bad,” Jaz says.

“It tends to be famous people now,” Poppy adds.

Since I’ve never been propositioned before, I can only nod. This was awful, and I could use a hug, but I’m not close enough to anyone here to ask. At least I don’t feel shaky anymore, and I can take comfort in knowing I did the right thing.

“Let’s move on,” I say then. “I don’t want this to ruin the rest of the day.”

“They’re selling box lunches now. Anyone else hungry?” Tad asks.

I could eat. And I don’t have a panel circled for this brick of time. Tad forges ahead, clearing the way for the rest of us as he navigates to the parking lot where all the food trucks have set up. It’s surprising there are so many of them, but from what I’ve read, business owners drive hundreds of miles to participate.

Only three of us get a meal, however. Jaz says she’s not hungry, and the box lunches aren’t vegan, so Ravik passes as well. Seeker makes no explanation, so it’s just Tad, me, and Poppy tucking into the deli sandwiches. There are also chips, fruit, and big cookies. We luck into a picnic table nearby, recently vacated by a woman with four kids, all of whom are wearing glittery alien antennae, and two of whom are sobbing.

“I never understood why people drag little ones to this sort of thing,” Poppy says. “They won’t remember it, and it’s so much work.”

“Maybe she couldn’t get a sitter?” I suggest.

“Could be,” Jaz agrees.

Tad tilts his face toward the sky. It’s even hotter now, unsurprising since this is July. His bald head is turning pink, and he dons the hat he had on earlier. Seeker and Ravik remain unaltered, though Jaz doesn’t seem to notice the heat either. She’s on her phone, sipping now and then at a bottle of water. She’s a very dainty, delicate person, the kind who makes me feel awkward in my own skin, like I’m altogether too much. It’s nothing she’s done, of course. Just my own insecurity.

I’m determined not to let this hiccup ruin the day.