5. CHAPTER FIVE #2
“Okay. It’s just hard to wrap my head around.
I know some people love the whole instalove, instalust thing.
I’m just not wired like that,” I said faintly.
“It usually takes me months of coffee dates and getting to know someone before I trust them, and even then, it goes nowhere. I can’t even remember the last time I went on a date. ”
With her eyebrows still scrunched, she tilted her head to the side.
“Your people require beverages first before mating?”
“Uh, well, among other things. We usually start with ‘Hi, what’s your name?’ and work our way up to ‘cosmic match’ and ‘very intense kissing backstage.’”
Her expression softened into a look of concern.
“I did this wrong for you.”
The idea of Zhari Lumis—intergalactic sensation, award hoarder, woman who could sell out any arena—earnestly worrying that she’d kissed me in the wrong cultural order almost made me dizzy.
“No,” I blurted out. “I mean, yes, it was a bit fast for me. However, I did like it.”
“I knew it. I have been told I am a good kisser.” Proud, she straightened up and smiled.
“I just need time to catch up with your… aura.”
“I can give you time.” Her smile tilted.
We fell into a quieter rhythm, the comfortable kind where silence wasn’t a problem that needed fixing. When words failed me completely, my body defaulted to its one reliable coping mechanism.
I reached behind me and pulled my sketchbook from my bag.
“Oh, you draw?” she observed, watching me flip to a blank page. Her voice held a soft wonder that made my chest ache.
“It’s my favorite thing to do,” I said.
“May I watch?”
“Yeah, totally. I was going to ask if you could pose for me real quick. I would love to draw you.”
“Oh, yes. I would love that,” she said as she went to put her Nebs down.
“No—if you could keep eating, I would like to draw you while you eat them.”
“Oh? Yeah, I could do that.” She smiled.
She lifted the noodles from her lap and set them down on the table. She scooted closer and rested one elbow beside the mug. As she ate a clump of noodles, the colorful broth swirled in front of her.
My pink gel pen moved almost on its own. Quick lines for the slope of her nose. The way her mouth softened when she was listening instead of performing. The tension still coiled in her shoulders that no one in the screaming crowd would have noticed.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was her. This version of her—small and tired and somehow more dangerous than the one ten thousand people had just watched onstage.
She leaned in when I turned the sketch around.
For a moment, she didn’t say anything.
“No one draws me like this,” she said finally, her voice quiet. “Without the lights. Without the armor. I get a lot of cool fan art, but this…” She reached over the table and took my sketchbook. “You really captured me. Like, me-me. Just existing.”
She beamed over the drawing and handed it back.
“You are very talented, Vada.”
“Thank you, Zhari,” I whispered.
Her eyes flashed up to mine, quick and bright. The look in them punched all the air straight out of me.
“Vada,” she said. “I am very glad you came tonight.”
She reached over and squeezed my hand.
My throat tightened. “Yeah,” I said. “Me too.”
We didn’t talk much after that. The kind of tiredness that lived behind her eyes finally seemed to catch up with her.
“Bathroom’s yours,” she said, pushing herself to her feet. “I’m not sure what you packed or how long you planned to stay in Lumara, but there are clothes in the drawer if you want something comfortable to sleep in. We seem to be similar in body size.”
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.
Despite myself, I laughed, some of the tightness in my chest loosening.
“I appreciate you being slow,” I said quietly. “Most of my mistakes have started like a one-night stand and ended like a bad dream. This feels… different. Bigger. Like if we touch it wrong, we bend the whole timeline.”
Her breath hitched, just a little.
“Then I will go as slowly as your human heart needs,” she murmured. “I am greedy for you, yes, but I am also very patient. Well, I am learning to be.” A smile warmed her voice. “It is tragic for me to lie this close and not taste you, but I will survive.”