Page 40 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

“For our next meetup, we should go to one of Jaz’s concerts,” I suggest.

“I would love that,” she says.

Seeker has been so quiet that I find it a bit troubling. Finally, he speaks, swirling the water in the bottle so it catches the light, almost like a prism. “Where would that be?”

“Minneapolis. We perform February through June. If you let me know ahead of time, I can get tickets.”

“We can buy them,” I say quickly. I don’t want her thinking that I’m angling for a free concert or anything.

“I love that we’re making plans past Space Con.” Poppy finishes her sandwich in two huge bites. “But there’s a how-to class on professional-level special effects makeup and I don’t want to miss it. Who’s ready to leave now?”

To my surprise, Tad, Ravik, and Jaz all jump up, but then they look at the messy campsite in dismay. “I should clean up,” Tad says.

I can tell he wants to rush back to the excitement. And I’m aching for a moment with Seeker. “If you’ll all fit in Tad’s car, we can tidy up and head over.”

Tad beams at me. “You don’t mind? You’re an angel!”

Now that they’ve eaten, the others are gone so fast that it reminds of the Road Runner with Wile E. Coyote in The Road Runner Show cartoons. To keep my promise, I stash the leftovers in Tad’s cooler and Seeker throws away the trash. He follows me into the shadows of the camper and I take a step back, suddenly aware of how alone we are.

My pulse skitters. Not in fear. Anticipation. When he closes the door tight behind us, I lick my lips. There’s only one reason he’d want privacy, right? He’s planning to kiss me.

Only he checks the windows in all directions in a most unromantic manner, making me think this isn’t what I imagine.

“More privacy would be better, but I hope this will do,” he whispers. “I need to tell you something. And I’m so afraid of how you’ll react.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Showing you will be faster. And I doubt you’d take my word for it anyway.”

There’s an odd pop, as if my ears have suddenly equalized in pressure and my head feels odd. When I recover from that sensation, Seeker is gone. I don’t recognize the person standing here with me, and I use the p-word liberally.

This being is tall and slim, with an androgynous build and skin layered in what could be scales, but it could also be a pattern. A triangular head with an elongated jaw, not teeth like a human has, but more like a lizard’s maw. Sensory organs of some sort, but they’re set to the side, allowing for a completely different field of vision, and there are motile spines quivering all over the skull plate. Roughly humanoid, but the joints and the curves of their spine—this looks like an alien I’d see in a science fiction movie. And the colors…unearthly gorgeous, a peacock green deepening to the darkest hue of a forest, dotted with patterning in cobalt blue and violet.

“How did you do that?” I demand. “How did you get into costume so fast?”

“I didn’t.” Seeker’s voice sounds different now too. It’s deeper and so beautifully modulated that it makes my toes curl, like he’s singing the notes in harmony with himself.

“This is how I look normally. I’ve switched off the tech that makes me appear human.”

“This isn’t funny.”

I’ve been punked before by people who thought it would be funny to prove how gullible I am. Back in college, they planted transmissions to make me think I’d gotten in touch with intelligent life. I exchanged messages for a full week before another volunteer admitted to messing with me. But I never suspected Seeker would do this.

“No, it isn’t.” He extends a limb. His hands aren’t like mine either. Seven digits on each one, and two seem to be like opposable thumbs.

I have the ridiculous thought that those hands explain the unearthly beauty of the song he sent to me. The one that didn’t sound like any music I’d ever heard…

I pause. I can’t take this seriously, right? The minute I believe him, he’ll say, “PSYCH,” and tell everyone what a dork I am.

“What do you want from me?” I demand.

“I just want you to know who I am.”

Now I have a Goo Goo Dolls song in my head, “Iris.” The words slam into me as I stare at his outstretched arm. “And?”

“If you can’t believe my words, touch me. Will your senses lie to you?”

I don’t believe him. This is impossible. It’s a trick, has to be.