Page 36 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

Ugh. Sometimes it’s not a lot of fun being me. I let myself into my room and flop backward on my bed with a groan. I need a shower, but I can’t make myself get up until my phone pings. It’s a private text, not the group chat.

And it raises even more questions.

14

Seeker

I stand outside in the darkness for longer than I’d like.

I need to be planning. Don’t I?

Then I send a text before I can think better of it. To Jen, before I can change my mind.

Seeker: Make time for me tomorrow. I’ll tell you everything.

The short conversation I had with Jaz at the restaurant changed so much. Since she’s been here for ten years; she’s better at blending in.

“Why didn’t you leave?” I’d asked, taking advantage of the privacy.

“I want to be here. Things are simple. Their rules are easy to follow. I have a marketable skill, and my people are naturally talented in this sphere. We learn patterns quickly.”

She’s a professional musician on 97-B. I don’t know what she looks like with her tech turned off, but it’s fascinating that it makes her look human to me as well. What do I look like to her?

There was no time to ask about the particulars then, so I’d deferred that curiosity for later. Instead, I asked the blazing question. “You don’t intend to leave? Ever?”

“This is my home,” she reiterated. “If you stop being stubborn, it could be yours too.”

Then she pushed past me, heading to rejoin the others. I followed, reeling with the new information. And apparently, I did a bad job of covering my reaction. Now Jen seems to think I might be untrustworthy. But that’s a problem for later.

I have so many questions for Jaz that I consider calling her. Or texting. But I can’t trust human tech with our safety. It will have to wait until we’re alone again, whenever that is. The idea of accepting my fate and trying to build a life here feels…heretical, almost. Like a scientist deciding to remain among the primates they’ve been researching.

I head inside the small dwelling.

My nomadic existence has been grim and lonely by choice. I’ve always been aware that this is temporary and I shouldn’t draw attention to myself. I work enough to meet my basic needs and I do most of my shopping remotely. Apart from the people in the Aliens Among Us group chat, I have no connections here.

That should make it easier for me to leave.

But at the launch site, how am I supposed to slip past all the security and search for serviceable supplies? I can use tech to research the base, but that doesn’t eliminate the physical component of breaking in. And I’m a thrill seeker, not a hardened criminal. I’ve only broken Galactic Union rules by venturing to planets dubbed unsafe by the travel bureau.

And so far, I’ve always beaten the odds.

But everyone meets their match at some point. Realistic assessment suggests that I’ll get myself killed attempting to raid a billionaire’s compound on my own. I have been clinging to that solution out of desperation, feeling as if I had no other options. Now, I’ve been presented with one that seemed impossible before. Because I can’t be myself here. My entire existence would be a lie.

Yet Jaz has done it. So does that mean I have a second viable option?

What if I stay? There’s much I need to learn, but maybe I can manage.

I’d be lying if I said Jen had nothing to do with the thoughts I’m suddenly entertaining. I want to know her, but we can’t develop an honest relationship as long as I’m hiding such a massive secret.

Can I trust Jen?

Does Jaz have people in her life who know the truth and would perish to keep her safe? Because that’s what it might require. And do I have the right to ask that of anyone? To expect it, even? The answers to those questions don’t come, as I prepare and consume the mixture that keeps me alive.

Tomorrow, I’ll confide in Jen. If anyone will understand, she will. She’s desperate for confirmation I can provide. I don’t know if she’ll still be interested in…more, once she knows. But I’m sure we’ve made a real connection.

I have to be. I’m staking my life on it.

My biological needs met, I bring out the emergency beacon and tinker with it. Though I don’t know what will happen tomorrow with Jen, the ritual of working on the beacon soothes my nerves. The vertical space of this domicile is compact and cozy, a safe place to nest, but little else. While I would use other materials, the ones humans provide are sufficient and I manage to rest. According to my research, humans experience an interesting state of unconsciousness called dreaming. Their minds offer up random scenes, sometimes populated with nonsensical events.