CHAPTER 10
ZAREK
Making physical contact with humans is strictly prohibited. I do not care much for Terilian rules.
It’s not long enough of a touch. Not for me to feel the electrical pulses of her heart or to enjoy the warmth of her body heat, and I wish she would push me again, just for a moment longer.
I step into the bathroom and start putting in the first contact. Once they’re both in and I’m deeply uncomfortable, I leave my stuff on the sink, needing to relieve myself. A human saunters in, and though there’s an entire row of empty urinals, he chooses the one directly next to mine.
This is fine, Zarek. Your disguise also covers your sex organs. Do not make it weird.
“Tu vous souvent ici?”
And now it’s fucking weird.
I don’t know what he said—or asked, maybe, as the pitch of his voice shifted upward at the end—but I don’t like it.
I look over at the man, who is surprisingly handsome, and shrug my shoulders. Please don’t be a serial killer.
“êtes-vous de France?”
“No, sorry,” I say, and shake my head and smile as I move over to the sink to wash my hands.
He walks up to the adjacent sink, a determined gleam in his eye. “Langue? Language?”
“I speak English and Spanish and T—” No, I definitely cannot say Terilian. “—and a little bit of Diné. No French.”
I grab my things and exit the bathroom, and he follows me out. “C’est quoi votre numéro?”
Ellie glances up at me, and I get far too much enjoyment over the way she grabs me by the arm and drags me away as soon as I’m in her vicinity.
“Were you really flirting with that guy in the bathroom?”
“Flirting?” I ask, the word familiar and yet out of reach.
She furrows her brows as she continues to bring us toward the station’s exit. “It’s like…teasing, or I guess it doesn’t have to be teasing. I don’t know how to explain it, I don’t experience it very often. It’s a specific way of speaking.”
“Speaking for what purpose?”
Ellie lets out a huff. “For dating or sex or whatever. Some people even do it for fun. It’s playful and enticing.”
Oh. Heat spreads across my face and chest. “He was handsome, sure, but I was not trying to flirt. I do not flirt. Flirting is not a thing I do,” I say, purposefully saying the unfamiliar word three times to cement it into my memory.
“Sure, no flirting, fine,” Ellie says, and lifts up her hand, showing me an app on her phone. “Our driver is almost here.”
“Driver?” I cock my head to the side, curious about where we’re off to now. I’m grateful to have a companion on this adventure.
“While you were in the bathroom, I did some research and discovered that the Dordogne department, specifically Grottes de Villars, is only about an hour drive from here, so I figured we could go to lunch and then explore the caves? I also called a hotel and booked us a reservation. Oh, and I contacted my research lead and told him I would need an additional week or two, and that a personal emergency”—she squints at me—“came up.”
I’m not sure whether I’m petrified or impressed. “You did all of that during the three minutes I was in the bathroom?”
“It was closer to seven minutes, but yes,” she says, and points to the dark gray SUV. “That’s us.”
The taxi ride from Limoges to the cave is quiet, the car filled with only the sound of soft orchestral music playing over the radio. Ellie sits in the backseat beside me, but she feels infinitely far away, her body pressed against the opposite door.
I’ve never been jealous of a vehicle door until today, but there is a first time for everything.
Ellie has the driver change our destination to a restaurant a few miles away, and I whisper thank you as we pull up to the tan brick building, my stomach already rumbling.
She says something in French and hands him a wad of cash before waving him off. “This trip is getting expensive. Can you get a job or something?”
I chuckle and open the door for her. “I’m not sure how intergalactic currency transfer works, but if my plans for the edelweiss are successful, I’ll be sure to send you some money for your troubles.”
“And if not?” she asks, one eyebrow raising.
“I suppose I’ll call you from home confinement.” I choose to imagine a future with Ellie in it. The alternative is not something I’m interested in, even if I’m being delusional.
We’re escorted to our seats, which are back outside, and a kind blonde server takes our orders. Ellie shows off her French skills, boasting about how they legally have to serve us tap water if we say the right thing, and I can’t help but find it amusing.
I tell her about my favorite films from other planets, and she tells me hers. I try to memorize her answers, hopeful I can type them up onto a document later. I have exactly one hidden folder on my DIRC. It’s titled things Ellie likes (purely observational), and it is password protected.
That’s totally normal and platonic, right?
While we wait for our food, Ellie pulls up a map on her phone that reads Grottes de Villars.
“There are three passageways. Which way do you think we should go?” she asks, and I shrug.
“You’re the archaeologist. How should I know?”
She squints, staring at me for a moment.
“Derek, I work in the catacombs.” I understand why she does it, and it makes practical sense, but I hate when she calls me that.
Almost as much as I hate when she calls me an extraterrestrial.
“You’re the one who was supposed to be in a cave in Utah right now. ”
“Yeah, in Danger Cave, not Grottes de Villars,” I say in horribly accented French.
“For starters, the s is silent.”
“Huh?” I take a sip of my water.
“The s.” Ellie pushes up her glasses and shifts to rub her temples. “The s at the end of French words is silent. You always say the s, but it’s usually supposed to be silent.”
“Okay, fine,” I say, feeling the immature part of my nature take the wheel. “I will try to pronounce French words better.”
“Okay.”
My brows raise. “If you stop calling me an extraterrestrial. I would prefer to be called a sapphiro. Alien is also fine, it can even be kind of…cute. But extraterrestrial makes me feel like a science experiment.”
“Oh—”
The server returns with our meals. “La salade cabécou et le burger gorgonzola avec frites.”
“Merci,” Ellie replies, and I wait until the server leaves before continuing.
“It would be as if I called you a Homo sapiens sapiens instead of a human. Weird, right?” I explain.
“I’m so sorry. I truly didn’t mean to hurt or offend you by calling you E.T. earlier. Not that this is an excuse, but I was trying to be playful. I can see how it might not have come across that way, though.”
Playful. Was she flirting?
Ellie’s mouth curls to one side, her eyes lit up with genuine concern, and it makes my heart feel like it’s going to burst.
“Apology accepted. Let’s eat,” I say, and inhale a handful of fries.
It did bother me a little when she’d used the word extraterrestrial, but seeing how there were clearly no negative intentions, I have the sudden inappropriate urge to stand up and wrap my arms around Ellie, squeezing her tight.
I do not do that, and instead take a large bite of my burger, hoping the delicious food will cure whatever is wrong with me.
Ellie is staring at me with eyes the size of saucers as she takes a bite of her salad.
“Are you a vegetarian or something?” I ask.
She nods. “Yes, but it’s not that. You’re really leaning into this whole American tourist thing. Refusing to speak any French, flirting in a urinal, ordering a burger.”
“It’s very important to my second-best friend that I blend in,” I say with a laugh. “And he flirted with me! Not the other way around.”
We finish eating, and it might be the most flavorful thing I’ve had in my entire life. The server comes around with the check, and Ellie pays before we start walking toward Grottes de Villars. The French sun feels nice against my skin, warming me up.
Ellie carefully follows her phone’s navigation system. “Your best best friend is…Zul?”
“Yeah. He’s my Jo. Though I don’t think they’re anything alike—they would probably hate each other. He’s quite similar to you,” I state.
“Meticulous, inflexible, and unlikable?”
“I was going to say intelligent, detail-oriented, and…attractive.”
“Are you describing Zul or me?”
I nod. “Yes. I mean,” I trail off, unsure of how honest I should be. My best friend is attractive, of course, but Ellie is unrivaled. “You’re definitely also meticulous.”
“Glad we can agree on one thing.”
“You have Jo! Clearly you are likable.” One of my brows raise. “And besides, you might be more flexible than you think.”
Ellie’s cheeks suddenly turn bright pink, and she stops walking for a moment, completely frozen. “But flirting is not a thing you do?”
I did not mean it that way. I can explain, or I can use this as an opportunity to express my true feelings.
Ellie’s eyes seem to stare into my soul, if there is such a thing. “Are you…flirting with me?”
I go with the latter.
“So what if I am?” I ask, willing confidence into my voice. “Would that be such a crime?”
“Yes. A crime against humanity. Remember the book that one lady was reading? There are thousands of women who would swoon over your mere existence. Don’t bother with me.”
“But I like you, not any of them.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll be glad we’re out of each other’s hair by the end of this trip,” she says, and I’m not sure she understands what I’m saying.
Ellie has some form of self-perception issue. She truly believes she’s unlikable.
And maybe I’m a hypocrite, because in year thirteen I began collecting evidence against myself under the hypothesis that I was less likable than my peers, but she is just plain wrong.
Having less friends or not having luck with courting is not inherent proof that someone is undesirable. It is proof that they’re different, or maybe they’re going about their approach wrong. But unlikable?
Ellie is the most likable human I’ve ever met. She is thoughtful and complex. I have spent almost every waking moment with her over the last few days, and despite that being so, she invades my mind every second we are apart.