Love Galaxy (The Intergalactic Dating Show #1)

Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Briar

S orin sits down, then looks at me expectantly.

I push the bowl of soup closer. Not that I blame him for being hesitant to start. I don’t want to eat it either, despite my stomach rumbling for the last few hours. The soup has a distinct smell, and it isn’t appealing.

Still, he doesn’t start. Instead, he gently tugs me closer to him, until I’m sitting on his lap again, my back pressed to his front. “We are sharing, are we not, Briar?”

My name in his voice sends tiny ripples of pleasure through my body.

I open my mouth, but for a heartbeat, no sound comes out. All I can think about is how good it feels to be sitting here again, in the circle of his arms, comforted by the warmth radiating off his bare chest. “Yeah,” I eventually manage, like the true intellectual I am.

“Then we will share.” He picks up the spoon and directs it toward my mouth. For a guy with four arms, he apparently doesn’t have the best hand-eye coordination—or more probably he’s never practiced feeding someone else before, because he misses my mouth and instead tries to pour soup down my chin.

I grab hold of his wrist, keeping most of the soup on the spoon before my dress is ruined. Not because I liked the way he went all googly-eyed when he first saw me wearing it, I try telling myself, which is a lie. But I do also want to keep the dress clean because I packed my duffle bag in a snit and didn’t do such a great job remembering that I needed multiple days’ worth of clothes.

He remains still, just letting me hold his wrist. He’s so much bigger than me, he could easily break my hold. I can’t touch my thumb to the tip of my longest finger. But he waits patiently like an absolute gentleman.

Bloody hell, Sorin is a good guy. Probably the nicest man I’ve ever met.

And it’s honestly a little fucking embarrassing how desperate I am to be held by him.

For a second I let myself pretend we met the old-fashioned way—through a dating app. Maybe we’d seen each other’s photos and swiped right. Maybe this is our second date. Maybe we’re still getting to know each other, but we’re both feeling pretty excited about where our relationship might go.

“Bottoms up.” Guiding his hand up an inch, I throw back the first mouthful of soup.

It’s as disgusting as ever. I try not to choke and force myself to swallow. Food is food, after all, even if it tastes like the devil made it.

Sorin goes next, and I twist at the waist, wanting to see his face. He screws his eyes shut, and actual pain lines radiate out from the corners of his mouth.

“Not good, hey?” I wince. “I tried, but I didn’t know any of the ingredients.”

“Mayhaps,” he says slowly, as if he’s picking his words with care, “for our next dinner, I’ll cook.”

“So long as you let me clean. Although—” I glance around at the mess, most of which Sorin has piled up beside the sink, ready to be washed—“I doubt anyone could get a kitchen as messy as I got yours.”

Tactfully, he doesn’t answer.

Hands on hips, I stare at the only bed.

Beside me, Sorin stares at the only bed.

This situation has got to be the start of a rude joke, but I can’t think of a punchline, so the silence stretches on.

He shifts from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his hands. He’d be the worst poker player. I swear I can actually feel uncertainty radiating off him like body heat. Apparently there’s a big difference between sharing a bowl of soup and sharing a bed.

“You should?—”

“Do you?—”

We start speaking at the same time, then stop. He nods for me to continue.

“I’ll take this side.” I cross the room to the side of the bed that’s obviously not used and place my cup of water on the empty bedside table. “You’ll hardly even notice I’m here.” Although it’s been a while since I’ve slept beside someone, I’ve been told I sleep like the dead—without moving, so I’m confident I can keep to my side without embarrassment. “See.” I kick off my shoes and lie down on one side, a hand under my cheek like a pillow and my knee pulled up toward my chest, then feign being asleep.

When nothing happens, I roll onto my back and sit up. “No?” I’ve got a sneaking suspicion Sorin’s going to be one of those men who think it’s their natural born right to suffer sleeping on the hard floor in favor of gifting the bed to the ‘delicate’ woman. But I’m not a maiden in need of saving. At least not in this instance.

Sorin takes a step toward the door.

“Please don’t run away again.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can stop them. I know I’m being selfish asking this of him, but I don’t want to spend another night by myself, lying awake for hours worrying about everything that could, and probably will, go wrong.

“Briar.” He closes his eyes. Hopefully it’s so he can’t see the cameras. Hopefully it’s not me he’s trying to ignore. “We want different things.” It’s like he’s got to force the words out, like he’d way prefer to remain silent and brooding.

“I’m sorry.” I scoot across the bed to be nearer to him. It breaks my heart to see him like this, so miserable, all because he thought he was signing up to LOVE GALAXY for a chance at love and instead got me. The woman who’s talked of nothing but her desire to escape.

“No.” Opening his eyes, he steps toward me. “I didn’t mean—Briar, you have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault.”

“It isn’t yours either.”

“No,” he concedes, toeing off his boots and sitting on the edge of the bed. The mattress sags under his weight, and I slip a few inches toward him.

I study the pattern of his scales, trying very hard to forget about Mr. Smith and LOVE GALAXY, but it’s almost impossible to separate what I’m feeling for Sorin from my feelings toward the dating show.

There are a million and one questions bombarding my brain. Like: am I developing genuine feelings for Sorin, or is this what Stockholm syndrome feels like? Or: by allowing myself to fall for Sorin, am I actually falling straight into Mr. Smith’s trap? And: why am I so desperate to return home when all that’s waiting for me is homelessness and unemployment?

My head pounds with the beginnings of a headache.

“I don’t not want to stay,” is what I say, breaking the silence.

There’s a pause, maybe as he tries to dissect the double negative.

I’m trying to dissect the double negative.

“So you do want to stay?” His voice cracks, and he watches me with a guarded expression.

“Maybe? Agh! But I also don’t not want to leave.” I’m barely making sense, even to myself. “It’s hard to explain. Mr. Smith is everything that’s wrong with the world—my world, at least. He’s a self-centered prick who thinks it’s okay to treat women like crap for his own benefit. Remember how I told you about my ex-boss?”

“Yes.”

“I promised myself I wouldn’t let any man control my life like that again. When I signed up for LOVE GALAXY, I thought I’d have more power in my choices. I thought I’d be able to pick and choose who I spent time with. It sounds so silly now.”

“No, it does not.”

“Then I look at you and I see someone who’s so kind and caring.” I take a breath. I'll probably regret what I’m about to say. But I’ll also regret not saying it. Either way, I’m fucked. “I think if I had met you normally, like, maybe if a mutual friend had introduced us, I think I could’ve fallen in love with you.” My voice fades away at the impossibility of it all.

I sniff, suddenly horrified I’m going to cry. I’m so tired. I’m so sick of fighting. And I’m exhausted from trying to make sense of everything that’s happened since my abduction.

“Why can’t feelings be easy?” I lie down, using the movement as an excuse to scrub my eyes before full-blown tears start running down my cheeks.

He lies down too, so we’re eye level. “Mayhaps we can pretend, just for a few minutes, that a mutual friend has introduced us?”

We’re walking in dangerous territory, but Sorin is looking so hopeful that I don’t want to disappoint him. “They probably would’ve set us up on a blind date.”

“Akh?”

I laugh. Blind dating must be another Human-only tradition. “I mean, our mutual friend would’ve organized for us to meet up. We’d introduce ourselves. You’d tell me about your farm. I wouldn’t tell you about how I’d lost my job.”

“Why not?”

“I’d be trying hard to impress you. Instead, I’d ask lots of questions about your home and your planet. We’d talk about how we both enjoy cooking.”

“You do?” He’s clearly surprised.

I grin. “Yes. When I know what ingredients to use.”

“I would invite you to my farm.” He rolls onto his side and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.

“Oooh la la,” I tease. “On our first date?”

He frowns, not understanding. “I want to show you the lakes. I want to show you what I have been doing with my life.”

“Aww.” My heart seems to backflip in my chest.

Then I remember my crappy apartment back in Sydney. Aside from the fact my landlord has probably already sold most of my furniture in an attempt to recoup some of my unpaid rent, I wouldn’t have wanted to have invited Sorin there. What could I have shown him? The couch I bought off Facebook Marketplace? The dusty shelves with the books I’d always meant to read but had never gotten around to. The empty pantry I was too broke to fill?

When I think of Earth, I think of all my fuck ups. I think of everything that went wrong. I think of all the people I let down and of all the people who let me down.

When I think of Sorin, I get butterflies.

He doesn’t have any hair which I can pretend to brush away from his face for an excuse to touch him. Boldly, I slip my hand into his, interlocking our fingers. His scales aren’t soft, but they’re beautifully smooth, and I can’t deny the little thrill of satisfaction at the sensation.

He sits up, and I half expect him to pull away. After everything we’ve said, it’s not like our relationship has become any less complicated. Any less confusing. But instead, he uses the old and cracked tablet lying on his bedside table to switch off the lights. Then he lies back down, still holding my hand.

I press a chaste kiss to his shoulder, using the cover of darkness to hide my growing feelings from the cameras. And from myself.