Page 25 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

She let her gaze trail over me, slow and appreciative, before smiling.

“Oh, thank you. I actually packed a T-shirt and…” I could feel myself blushing. “Panties. I usually just wear panties to sleep.”

Her smile widened, going a little wicked at the edges.

“Good,” she murmured. “I would have hated to be the only one.” She hooked her thumb under the hem of her own baggy shirt in demonstration. “I sleep in a T-shirt and panties as well. It keeps things… uncomplicated.”

Her eyes dipped to my legs and back up.

“And very easy to appreciate.”

I let out a small laugh and unknowingly started fidgeting with my hair.

I walked over to my suitcase, grabbed the handle, and started rolling it toward the bathroom. Just before I reached the doorway, I glanced back over my shoulder and caught Zhari very clearly checking out my ass. Nervous, I fidgeted with my hair.

“Um, I actually realized I forgot my toothbrush and toothpaste,” I said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably.

“Oh, well, good thing this is a five-star hotel,” she replied. Her eyes crinkled as a smirk slowly formed. “There is some in the bathroom already.”

I nodded and steered my suitcase the last few steps into the bathroom.

When I opened the door, it was as if a spaceship had crashed into a spa. The room was sleek and softly lit, but the sink setup almost made me laugh. The alien toothbrush looked almost exactly like the ones back on Earth, just with a translucent handle that glowed faintly when I picked it up.

The toothpaste smelled like bubblegum when I cracked the seal, familiar and weirdly comforting. I brushed until the sugary-sweet foam chased away the last of the Nebs.

I shimmied out of my miniskirt, jacket, and butterfly tank, stripping down until I was just in my panties.

“Uh, no bra feels so good,” I muttered, giving my breasts a quick squeeze before stretching my arms over my head.

I let out a long sigh of relief, then turned to my suitcase. I unzipped it and rummaged blindly through the jumble of clothes until my fingers found my thick, crinkly T-shirt. I pulled it over my head, the fabric settling softly against my skin.

On the counter, a stack of single-use makeup pads sat in a glass dish. I swiped one over my face and watched my glitter and liner melt away in a few passes, like some kind of miracle cloth.

Within a minute, my skin felt clean, soft, and annoyingly better than anything I could buy at home.

I padded back out into the suite in just my T-shirt and panties, feeling somehow more exposed than I had in a crowd of twenty thousand people.

The lights had dimmed to a soft glow. Zhari lay on one side of the gigantic bed, scrolling through something on her wristband, her blue hair spilling over the pillow. She looked over as I climbed in on the opposite edge, leaving what felt like several kilometers of mattress between us.

The sheets were ridiculous—cool and smooth and just this side of sentient. They hugged my legs when I shifted, like, Yes, hello, we are now your primary relationship.

“This is surreal,” I said to the ceiling because it felt safer than looking at her.

“Which part?” she asked quietly.

“All of it,” I said. “Yesterday, I was tabbing between spreadsheets and customer complaint forms. Now I’m on an alien planet, in bed with the woman whose poster I had above my desk, and she’s told me we’re some kind of cosmic… thing.”

I patted a hand uselessly in the space between us.

“We are a cosmic thing,” she agreed solemnly.

“That doesn’t help,” I groaned into the pillow.

The mattress dipped as she shifted closer—not close enough to touch, just close enough that I could feel her warmth along my side.

“You do not have to do anything with it tonight,” she said. “No decisions. No kissing. Just sleep. We can organize the cosmos in the morning. Even if I would very much like to start… earlier.”

Her voice curled around the last word, amused.