Page 49 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

“You’re welcome,” I said as my gaze dropped from her eyes to her lips.

“So, you have excellent taste in food and terrible taste in Earth music,” she said. “That playlist of human singers you made me made me cry last night.”

“That’s not terrible taste. That’s good taste. The crying is the point. It gets you all in your feels, you know?”

“The point of music should not be crying,” she said.

“On Earth, it is,” I said. “We love to cry. It’s our whole thing. We cry at songs, we cry at movies, we cry at bread. Remember?”

“The bread,” she said. “Still so weird to me that humans cry over baking or cooking.”

We both laughed, then let the moment settle into a comfortable silence. We leaned back and watched the stars glisten above us, saying nothing at all.

My sketchbook was still open on my lap, the blank page staring up at me.

“You are quiet tonight,” she said as she reached out and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

“I’m thinking.”

“About what?”

About your hands. About the way you hand me drinks. About the scar on your thumb. About the fact that I asked you to wait, and you did, and you haven’t complained about it once. I don’t know if that makes you the most patient being alive or if you’re just very good at pretending.

About the fact that Lyn called my sketchbook a love letter today, and she wasn’t wrong. I don’t know what to do with that.

About the fact that I think about you—about us—every moment I can.

“Noodles,” I said.

“Noodles,” she repeated.

“Yeah. I was wondering if there’s a Nebs flavor I haven’t tried yet.”

She knew I was lying. I could see it in the way her eyes narrowed slightly.

“Ah, I see. Well, like I mentioned before, there are so many flavors. We will have to try them all. It could be a fun little challenge,” she said excitedly.

I smiled and closed my sketchbook, clipping my pink glitter gel pen to the front before setting it down beside me.

Looking back up at Zhari, I just stared.

She was so beautiful.

Zhari must have caught me staring because, without looking up from her noodles, she asked, “What?”

“I just think you’re beautiful, is all,” I said.

Her chopsticks stopped moving. She looked up at me and just smiled meekly.

“I’d like to kiss you,” I blurted out.

“Oh, you do? Well, good news, because I’d like to kiss you back.”

I smiled and leaned closer to her, setting my sketchbook down beside me.

My hand slid to the back of her neck, fingers weaving through her hair as I pulled her in. My lips brushed hers once before I kissed her.

She didn’t pull away. She set her noodles down beside her, then brought her hands to my face. She let out a low, breathy moan against my mouth, and her fingers trembled where they covered mine.