Page 23 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

My entire nervous system lit up. I wanted to sleep with her so badly. All those years fantasizing about what it would be like to be with her, to touch her, to taste her.

But what if we accidentally bonded? It was so permanent and so scary. Would it be so bad if I just bonded with her?

I didn’t know what to do, but I decided to try to stay in the present and enjoy this slumber party. I let out a long sigh and a partial smile.

She walked over to the kitchenette and grabbed some utensils from the drawer. Then she walked back to the Nebs and gestured for me to sit down. We both sat on the floor in sync, cross-legged.

The mugs glowed a soft pink-violet, steam curling up in lazy spirals. She slid one toward me along with an iridescent glass bottle.

“I added comet spice,” she said. “When I went down to order our food from the hotel kitchen, they didn’t have many options. Tell me if it is too much. I do not fully understand your human tongue’s resilience. Among other things.” She teased me with a smile.

“My tolerance for spice is pretty high,” I said, wrapping my hands around the warm ceramic mug. It was huge, the perfect size for ramen or soup. “I live alone and eat my feelings a lot.”

“Ah.” She nodded as if this were sacred knowledge. “Solo dining as emotional regulation. A universal language.”

The utensils were familiar enough, except the fork only had two prongs, making it more of a precision tool than a fork. I took a bite, and the heat hit fast, bright, and fizzy on my tongue.

“Okay, wow,” I coughed around a mouthful of noodles. “Comet spice really… arrives.”

Her eyes widened. “Too much?”

I picked up the Starlust bottle. “Not at all,” I mumbled as I took a gulp, the bubbles instantly popping at the back of my throat. “It’s perfect. It’s like Earth’s chili powder’s hot cousin who studied abroad and got interesting.”

She tossed her head back and laughed.

“I will tell the hotel chef he has surpassed an entire planet.”

We ate. The suite hummed softly around us with distant machinery and the muted thud of equipment being loaded somewhere below. Beyond the glass, traffic moved in threads of blue and white.

Inside, it was just the two of us, the glow of broth, the warmth of spice, and the quiet awareness of the one bed.

After a while, caught somewhere between too many glances and not enough, I couldn’t hold the question in any longer.

“I want to ask you something,” I said, setting my utensil down before I dropped it.

She looked up at once, giving me her full attention.

“Ask.”

“The aura thing,” I said. The word felt ridiculous in my mouth, like I was talking about a horoscope instead of my entire life doing a cartwheel. “Is it—can we talk about it?”

I lowered the bowl to my lap.

“Just… is it real? Actually real? Not a line you use on hot human girls to get them into bed?”

She set her bowl on her lap too and stared into it, swirling her fork back and forth.

“It is real. It is a Velan bond phenomenon we call Sola-Ka, remember? Our bodies recognize a compatible pattern.” She looked up at me, her eyebrows scrunched together. “I would not have kissed you if it were not.”

“Okay. It’s just hard to wrap my head around. I know some people love the whole instalove, instalust thing. I’m just not wired like that,” I said faintly. “It usually takes me months of coffee dates and getting to know someone before I trust them, and even then, it goes nowhere. I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date.”

With her eyebrows still scrunched, she tilted her head to the side.

“Your people require beverages first before mating?”

“Uh, well, among other things. We usually start with ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ and work our way up to ‘cosmic match’ and ‘very intense kissing backstage.’”

Her expression softened into a look of concern.