Love Galaxy (The Intergalactic Dating Show #1)

Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

The camera zooms in on Farmer Sorin. He is sitting at his kitchen table, his head in two hands. Noise comes from behind the closed door of his bedroom as Briar dresses for the day.

Farmer Sorin looks at the camera and opens his mouth to speak ? —

FARMER SORIN:

Akh….

Briar

“ I ’m guessing there aren’t any cameras outside.” As I step into the kitchen, I push the remaining bobby pin into my bun, making sure my hair’s out of my face. I’m wearing yesterday’s dress, and I don’t hate the green as much as I used to. It’s growing on me, I think.

“Too dusty,” is all Sorin says in answer. He’s slumped over the kitchen table, looking like someone in desperate need of their morning coffee.

I, on the other hand, am feeling pretty pleased with myself. Maybe it has something to do with Sorin spilling a load over my hand last night and moaning my name, but who’s to say?

Of course, if Sorin doesn’t want to talk about what happened between us, I won’t push him. I’d prefer that the cameras and Mr. Smith never know anything about it. And if it means going outside into a windstorm to get a few minutes of privacy, then into a windstorm I will go. Gladly.

Being physical didn’t fix any of the numerous problems we’ve both got with LOVE GALAXY and Mr. Smith, but it did help me feel closer to Sorin, like we’re allies again.

I fetch him a glass of water, which is the closest I can find to coffee. He downs it in a couple of gulps and clambers to his feet. There are dark circles under his eyes. I’m guessing he didn’t get much sleep last night, even after our sneaky side quest.

Truth be told, I didn’t get much more sleep either, too obsessed with remembering every small detail. Like the way Sorin’s entire body had convulsed when he’d come. How, afterwards, when his knees had started working properly again, he’d stood up and pulled me into a tight hug. How he’d buried his face in my hair and pressed kisses down my throat and along my collarbone.

The only thing that had stopped me from stripping out of my dress then and there had been the nagging voice in my head telling me that we’d been out of sight of the cameras for long enough that Mr. Smith might have gotten suspicious. It had been thrilling, knowing we’d been breaking the rules, but I hadn’t wanted to push our luck too far and risk the wrath of Chloe the Bitch.

Standing, Sorin kisses my forehead. “I will make us some food. Then, mayhaps, I can show you the farm.” There’s a note of hesitation in his voice, like he’s nervous I’ll say no.

“Yes, please.” As he steps past me toward the pantry, I give one of his hands a quick squeeze. “I’d really like that.” Maybe we can spend a little time pretending again that we’re just two ordinary people and not on a reality dating show.

Turns out that food on Ril II isn’t half bad when Sorin cooks. Also turns out that the underground farm is accessed through the fifth door leading off the kitchen, the one I never got around to opening yesterday.

My mouth drops open when I see it, like I’m trying to catch flies. “Are you fucking kidding me?! This is unbelievable.” I step through the doorway Sorin’s holding open for me into what I can only describe as an underground palace.

I’m standing on a balcony that overlooks a massive cave so large I can’t see the back wall. Enormous stalactites reach down into the cave, maybe ten feet long, like the teeth of a giant monster, black instead of white.

Grasping the handrail, I lean over the balcony’s edge, staring at a lake that’s got to be at least three stories below me. The water’s surface is completely still, like a mirror. In fact, I can see my reflection staring straight back at me.

I can’t judge how deep the lake is; the bottom isn’t visible, either because it’s super-duper deep or because the shadows are keeping secrets. The only lights in the cave are artificial ones, set into the walls and the ceiling at various intervals, creating a patchwork of light and dark that illuminates some stalactites and throws others into shadow. The overall effect is something close to magic, almost too beautiful to be believed.

If all alien farms are as stunning as this one, I can see the appeal.

“Is there algae down there?” I ask.

Sorin nods. “We have nine lakes now, between here and the main house.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so stunning, Sorin.” Mesmerized, I follow the balcony along one wall. The largest of the stalactites directly overhead have been cut to accommodate anyone walking on the balcony, but the smaller ones, the ones that aren’t threatening to poke my eyes out, have been left, and when I stand on my toes I can actually reach the point of one. It feels a little like it’s made of wax, and a drop of water clings to my fingertip. It’s so dark it’s practically black.

I rub the water droplet between my forefinger and thumb, noticing the gritty texture. The water we drink, the water that comes out of the tap in Sorin’s kitchen, must be filtered and that’s why it isn’t black.

“Can we get down?” I motion to the lake. I’ve never been a fan of swimming pools, and I always hated school sports carnivals, but I’m itching to shed my clothes and dive in.

“Up ahead,” Sorin says, nodding at something farther along the balcony walkway, so I keep walking. Then I see a ladder. Thank God I’m not afraid of heights, because the gaps between the rungs are a bit bigger than what I’m comfortable with.

Still, I make it down without falling and with only mild hand shaking.

I think originally water must have covered the entire cave floor, but Sorin and his family have cut a ledge into the wall creating a walkway along the water’s edge. The rock here is smoother than the walls elsewhere, and in a few places I can see grooves that look suspiciously like they were made by a chisel or… what had Sorin said they’d used to cut the tunnels? An auger. I highly doubt that if you’re able to travel between galaxies you’d be cutting stone paths by hand!

There’s a plaque mounted on the wall here, made of a paler stone than what naturally occurs in the cave. I trace the letters, unable to read the words.

“That is for my sister.” Sorin jumps down the last few rungs to land beside me. “It originally marked the first of the lakes our parents converted, but seeing it every day was tormenting Killan, so when my brothers and I took over, I moved it here.”

“Where you see it every day.”

“Yes.” Sorin pats the memorial plaque as if it’s an old friend, then moves to the water’s edge. He dips his hand into the water, like he’s checking something, then straightens.

I copy his movements. The water’s much warmer than I’d been expecting, considering there’s no sunlight down here to heat it up. I glance around, searching for signs of… I don’t know. A pool heater? “What makes it warm like that?”

“That is the algae. I will show you.” He collects a long pole from where it’s resting against the wall near the ladder. The far end has a hook, like a shepherd's crook, and it’s that end which he sticks into the water. It goes down a long way; the pole’s maybe twice as tall as me, long enough to be unwieldy—unless, of course, you’ve got four arms and lots of muscles, because Sorin doesn’t appear to be having any trouble. When he withdraws it, there’s a green lump of goo hooked at the end. It’s dripping water and looking generally inedible. But when Sorin slips it off the pole, I see that it’s really more like hundreds of tiny threads all tangled together. He tears it in half, passing one lump to me, while he pops his half into his mouth.

I sniff it. It doesn’t have a strong smell, so I touch it with the tip of my tongue. Immediately the tiny hair-like threads cling to my tongue, almost like they’re spiderwebs, and I can either try to disentangle myself from them or accept my fate and pop the entire thing into my mouth.

That’s when I notice the camera. Of course. With me standing there, mouth open, tongue out.

If there’s too much wind and dust on the planet’s surface for cameras, then down here in the farm has got to be ideal for filming. It’s a natural-made film set, with mood lighting and ambiance. Our voices don’t even echo, and there’s no other sound but Sorin and I, meaning every single thing we say is crisp and clear.

Hastily, I turn my back to the closest camera and swallow. It slides right down, leaving behind a light tangy taste that’s surprisingly refreshing.

“I’m so glad you showed me your farm. I never could have imagined something as amazing as this. You’re literally saving lives.”

“I had a feeling you would like it.” His whole body seems to gravitate closer to me, although I’d swear he doesn’t actually move. Maybe that’s how it feels to be seen by Sorin. I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone with such a direct gaze. Even though his scales are tinged blue, he doesn’t blink or look away.

“You were right. I do.” I’m standing on my toes, before I’ve really thought about it, like I’m going to kiss him. I can’t imagine a more fairytale-like setting in which to make-out. Except, of course, this isn’t a fairytale, and there’s every chance Mr. Smith is watching us right now.

I break eye contact, silently promising myself that the second it gets dark outside, I’ll drag Sorin into the wind with me where there are no cameras.

“Hey, can we go swimming?” I ask. “Or is that like really gross when the algae’s for eating?”

“We can swim.” Sorin displays the rows and rows of his sharp teeth, which I’m guessing is his attempt at a smile. “But not in this lake.” He leads me a little farther along the water’s edge, and as we pass the closest camera, I look straight into the lens and give anyone who’s watching the finger.

I follow Sorin into a tunnel. It’s heaps smaller than the one with the cart we travelled in to get to his house. This tunnel is clearly designed for walking instead of riding, and after a short distance, maybe a quarter mile, we’re at another lake. This one’s smaller, about the size of an Olympic swimming pool. The roof is lower, and the stalactites aren’t half as large, like this is a baby cave. The water is lit by overhead lights that clicked on when they first sensed us moving, and gentle ripples disturb the water’s surface every time drops fall from the ceiling.

Sorin doesn’t hesitate, just wades straight in, pausing only when the black water is lapping at his thighs to glance back at me. I kick off my shoes, and after a moment’s hesitation, I pull my dress over my head.

I’m still wearing my old bra, the old crappy one whose elastic is on the verge of an emotional breakdown, paired with a lacy G-string that doesn’t match. The combo makes me feel both self-conscious and sexy. I don’t loathe the fact that my butt cheeks are on display, but I can’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around my stomach, as if I can hide it.

That’s when I catch sight of Sorin staring at me. In the shadows, his pupils have expanded, emphasizing the green-ness of his eyes. His scales are green, too, like he’s never been blue in his life. There’s a definite bulge at the crux of his thighs, and after last night I know exactly what that bulge means.

His penis had been a thing of beauty, and that’s saying something, because, seriously, have you seen a beautiful penis before? I doubt it. It’s sometimes hard being a straight woman and being attracted to ugly dicks.

But not Sorin’s. Last night, Sorin’s had been long and thick and deliciously red. It’s the only part of him that doesn’t have scales, and when I’d wrapped a hand around it, it had been hot. Hot as in temperature hot—but the other hot, too.

I’m obsessed with knowing how it extends beyond his body. Like, does he have to manually release it? Or if he gets hard enough does it just sort of pop out of the slit itself?

The slit, too, is fascinating. Kind of like a Human belly button, but much longer—eight inches, I’d guess. And most of the time it’s visually undetectable. Now, though, it looks close to popping open, all because Sorin’s seen me in my underwear.

I highly recommend getting yourself a guy who looks at you the way Sorin’s staring at me. It’s like his gaze is tangible, and tingles race along my skin as if I can feel him watching me.

I’m walking so fast water splashes up around me, and even though it’s significantly colder than the first lake we saw, I duck down as soon as I’m deep enough, suddenly understanding why guys are always talking about taking a cold shower when they’re horny.

Have I mentioned it’s been a long time since my last boyfriend? Embarrassingly, long. Longer than I care to admit (cough, three years, cough, cough).

Coming up for air, I flick my hair out of my face and tread water. I think Sorin’s standing. He’s so much taller than me; I can’t reach the ground, not even with my toes.

“Wow. You’ve got an entire underground lake to yourself.” I swim a slow circle around Sorin, breaststroke style. I might not be a particularly strong swimmer, but everyone grows up swimming in Australia, whether you enjoy the water or not.

And I’m really enjoying this water. It’s so much better than the beach, without the threat of sand, sunburn and tourists to ruin your fun.

“So what would a typical day at work be like for you?” I ask. “Maybe, while I’m here, I could help.” I’d like that. I’d like to feel useful again.

You want to spend more time ogling Sorin, the voice in my head (the one that sounds horrifyingly like Chloe commentating) accuses. I don’t bother arguing with her. Of course I want to ogle Sorin. Who wouldn’t?

“ … large nets.”

I blink. Sorin’s been talking this entire time, answering a question I barely remember asking.

“Akh… ” I say, borrowing the sound he makes when confused or can’t think of an answer.

He narrows his eyes, watching me closely. “You are not smiling.”

“No,” I agree.

“You are not frowning.”

“I guess not.” I’d bury my face in my hands if only I weren’t stuck treading water. So I head toward the lake’s edge, where it’s shallow enough I can sit down and still have the water lapping at my waist. Now I’m wet, it’s colder out of the water than in.

“Akh—” It’s Sorin’s turn, apparently, to be lost for words, as he stares at me. Again.

I glance down to see what’s caught his attention and, long story short, my bra has turned sheer. Both my nipples are pointing straight at Sorin, like they’re desperate for his attention.

I raise my arms to cover myself, but it suddenly occurs to me that the camera is behind me. Before me, the lake fills the rest of the cave, and there isn’t a walkway carved into the wall here like in the first cave so there’s no way to get to the other side without going for a long swim.

The camera behind me can see my back, sure. It can see Sorin’s front. But it can’t see my breasts. Slowly, I lower my arms.