Page 78 of I Think I’m in Love with an Alien

“It was. And so I watched from the windows when I got here. I didn’t go out because I had preconceived notions that it would be unpleasant, both from past experiences elsewhere and the way I saw people here fleeing from the rain in visual entertainment.”

“Some people don’t like to be wet, but this feels lovely, especially today.”

If I had a class to teach, I might be one of the people hurrying with an umbrella, but today I’m content to stand as the drizzle sprinkles down, gradually intensifying to fat, cool droplets of rain. Others hurry past us, eager to reach the sanctuary of the museum. I let Seeker set our pace today.

“Water from the clouds, such a gift.” There’s a smile in his voice, though not one I can detect on his distinctive features.

“I love rainy days,” I admit. “Perfect for snuggling up and watching a movie.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He moves toward the car, and I follow. It feels like we’re on the cusp of something, but Seeker holds all the power. It has to be that way between us because he’s powerless to leave, as he’d prefer. I would feel like I was taking advantage of him if I pushed for anything before he articulated the words himself.

Inside my xB, it’s dry and overly warm. I start the engine, despite not having the least idea where we’re headed. “Next stop?”

“If you’re amenable, I’ve had enough of other people today.”

Excitement skitters along my nerve endings, though I try to be cool about this. The hot alien wants to get me alone, but maybe he does want to Netflix and chill. Not the euphemism. And I’ll be thrilled to watch whatever he wants, really.

“Send the text to the group saying we’ll hang out with them tomorrow,” I suggest.

He retrieves his phone, likely heeding my advice. “Such a curious turn of phrase when no vertical suspension is involved.”

I could make a sex swing joke here but I decide against it. “Home then. Well. Our temporary home.”

28

Seeker

Home.

The word resonates with me. Even though Jen amends it quickly, I recall that she’s extended an offer of permanent hospitality.

And I’m warming to the notion.

When we reach the lodging place, she collects a parcel from the front office. I suspect it’s the protein powder she procured for me. I’m heartily sick of the stuff, but I fear experimenting with other sources of nutrition. The soy, as she calls it, is keeping me alive and not making me sick. I’m fearfully aware how few my resources are on 97-B.

I make a beverage and consume it, as I haven’t eaten today. Jen orders food for herself and we settle on her bed, which has been made in our absence. After covering the windows to deter curious onlookers, I settle nearby when she turns on the television, then hands me the control device.

“You pick,” she says.

I find a show that seems interesting at first. People are having a meal together, but the scene soon changes, and now the humans are removing their clothing, rubbing their mouths together and making sounds that suggest duress or arousal. Judging by how Jen’s colors shift in response, I surmise it’s the latter.

And now I’m curious, so curious. If I can cause her to make those sounds as well. If I don’t let her touch me, I should be able to resist imprinting or creating a life bond before I’ve made that decision logically, committed to her with her my heart and mind.

“Jen…”

“Yes?” She’s not looking at the screen anymore, nor at me either.

“Are you interested in me? Physically? Sometimes I think that you are. But I do not wish to presume.”

Groaning, she covers her face with her hands. “You’re not supposed to just…ask like that! Come right out with it, why don’t you?”

“Then how else am I meant to attain the information?”

“Yes, I think you’re hot. And I’m very attracted to you.”

“Hot? My temperature is variable.”