Chapter 29
HOUSE GUESTS OF THE FOURTH KIND
My alarm’s cheerful ringing yanked me out of an exhausted, nightmare-riddled sleep. That couldn’t be real. I’d only just closed my eyes. I groaned in protest, swatting at my phone until the sound died, then slumped back into the pillow.
The sun was up, though. I could see it through my eyelids. The alarm had been right, after all.
I’d had another nightmare. This one with glowing eyes and echoes of something I couldn’t hold on to. Strange shapes and fragments of words that dissolved like mist the further I strayed into wakefulness. Vanishing like sunspots.
Still gritty-eyed and half-conscious, I shoved back my quilt—which sent pencils and flashcards skittering across the floor. Perfect. With a mumbled curse, I staggered upright and stepped over them, tugging down the hem of my sleeping shirt.
My jaw cracked with a huge yawn as I opened the bedroom door—
And nearly ran straight into Sky emerging from my bathroom.
I froze mid-yawn.
Oh. Right.
Sky was here.
In my apartment.
Because he’d spent the night.
And there he was. Still here. Tall and broad, he took up most of the bathroom doorway. His dark hair was tousled like he’d spent hours tossing and turning, which he probably had because I hadn’t been lying about the couch.
Stubble shadowed his strong jaw, but his sapphire eyes were somehow clear and bright.
When I just stared, he rocked back on his heels, a smile tugging at the corner of his full lips.
Lips I’d attacked last night.
That memory alone was enough for me to snap my mouth shut with an audible click.
“Good morning,” he said.
Oh God. His morning voice was rough and low. All gravelly and husky. Sexy enough to jolt every hormone in my body awake.
“I made coffee,” he added.
“Coffee,” I repeated faintly. My alien houseguest had made coffee. Somehow I managed not to swoon.
His attention slid over my blushing face then down, lingering, unmistakably, on my bare thighs beneath the hem of the Metallica shirt I’d crashed in last night after ditching my leggings.
Too late, it occurred to me what that meant. I wasn’t wearing pants.
A confusing mess of embarrassment and awareness churned in my belly. Way too much churning for this early in the morning. I tugged the shirt’s bottom down as far as it would go.
Not that Sky was paying attention now. He shifted from foot to foot, rubbing the back of his neck and looking everywhere but at me.
“You have a…uh…” He pointed in the general vicinity of my stomach while squinting at the hallway ceiling. “You’re wearing a note. About agenda-setting theory.”
“What?” I looked down. Sure enough, a sticky note from last night’s study session clung to my shirt. A yellow one scrawled with half-legible media theory ramblings.
Okay, maybe he was paying a little bit of attention, after all.
Blushing even deeper, I peeled it off and managed a weak laugh. “Thanks. Study note.” I shook it in the air for some reason then gestured vaguely at the bathroom. “I’m just gonna…”
“Oh. Sure. Sorry.” He moved aside quickly.
I did a little awkward shuffle-step past him, sliding toward the bathroom door without looking directly at his face. My hallway felt so much smaller with him in it.
“I’ll be out here,” he said behind me.
I muttered something I hoped passed for human language and shut the door, leaning back against it with a dejected sigh.
It was way too early for this.
And I hadn’t slept nearly enough. Those dreams…
I dragged a hand over my face, trying to chase the fragments. They felt heavy. Important. Familiar in a way that made my chest tighten. But I couldn’t for the life of me recall a thing.
Were they what Sky had implied yesterday? Were these glimpses of something I hadn’t quite remembered yet? Something I couldn’t quite summon back to my conscious mind but had been planted there…?
A creeping unease coiled beneath my ribs. Whatever they were, they were gone now, scattered like leaves in the wind by the shock of finding Sky in my hallway.
That, too, felt dreamlike. Too strange to be real.
Maybe the dreams were just stress from…that. Maybe the power of suggestion had made my subconscious stage some kind of cosmic theater production. I had enough material for it. Midterms and a possible apocalypse. Oh, and the fact that I’d kissed a literal alien yesterday.
My stomach swooped, and I bit my lip.
It had been a hell of a kiss, too. And now I was supposed to just…act like it hadn’t happened.
I stared into the mirror, unwinding my sleep-rumpled braid while studying my reflection.
My shadowed eyes and still-reddened cheeks.
My face trying very hard to pretend everything was normal.
I braced both hands on the counter and drew in a long breath, holding it. Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly.
I could do this. I could find my equilibrium.
My worldview had completely shifted yesterday. Which meant I had to define my new normal.
It was fine. Everything was fine. I could survive midterms. Face Sky. Untangle alien weirdness, decode impossible dreams, and still show up to work on time. All that. I could handle it.
No pressure.
None at all.
I buried my face in my hands and wheezed a laugh.
So much pressure.
I felt moderately better after a pep talk beneath scalding-hot water. It was my second shower in twenty-four hours, but hey, I was now extra clean. I did my best thinking under the spray.
By the time I’d dried off, I’d moved through panic, disbelief, and some more panic, and I’d mostly arrived at anxiety-laced acceptance. Not that I had much of a choice. I had alien scribbles on my palm and an intimate understanding of just how not alone we were in the universe.
First things first. Sky was here. And together, we needed to come up with some semblance of a plan. I’d feel much better with a plan.
Acutely aware of his presence in my front room, I tamed my hair and got dressed in actual clothes—with pants this time—before going in search of coffee.
I rounded the corner into my living room, anticipation simmering at the prospect of caffeine and the reality of facing my houseguest. When I saw him, though, I nearly turned back around to go hide in my room.
I’d somehow missed it in my sleepy haze, but Sky still wore The Sweatpants.
The white T-shirt, too. He was sprawled on my couch, one leg bent, the other stretched out.
He frowned faintly at his phone and chewed his lip as his thumbs moved over the screen.
Looking comfortable and…yeah. Still lickable.
Somehow, I kept moving, and when I emerged from the hallway, he lifted his head.
“Hey,” he said. He sat up in an easy movement, swinging his legs around the couch’s edge and putting the phone on the coffee table.
The clean coffee table. I stopped short. The takeout bag from last night was gone, and there was no longer any junk on its surface. Or on my kitchen counter.
Had Sky taken out my trash?
I transferred my stare to him. He smoothed his palm over his messy hair, and his brows tented. “Everything okay?”
“What? Yeah! Of course.” I made a beeline for the coffee pot. I injected as much cheerfulness into my voice as I could manage. Like it was totally normal to find Sky cleaning my apartment and lounging on my couch. “Did you take out the trash?”
“I did,” he said, tone light. Easy. Like it was totally normal to clean my apartment and lounge on my couch. “I picked up a little. Hope that’s okay. I was up early.”
“Oh, that’s fine. So fine. Thank you. That was…” Why was my heart beating so fast? It was nice. He’d made coffee and picked up and, damn it, that really wasn’t helping me not want to do any sort of licking—
I rummaged for a mug, bypassing the one that said, I like my coffee like I like my men: sweet and hot, because that seemed way too on the nose. I pulled down a chipped blue one instead. “Thanks for making coffee, too.”
Sky’s phone buzzed, and I glanced over as he picked it up.
Who was he texting? His partner? Did he have other friends? After last night, it sounded like he kept everybody at arm’s length. Like he’d been completely focused on his mysterious mission here. But he’d also said he’d…experienced being human, so—
None of my business. I focused on pouring coffee. Not on analyzing Sky’s social life.
“No problem,” Sky said, sparing his phone screen a quick look before offering me a distracted smile. “Coffee is one of Earth’s best inventions, in case you were wondering.”
I hadn’t been, but that was good to know.
Feigning a scoff, I dumped an indecent amount of creamer into my cup, just the way I liked it, before carrying the steaming mug into the living room. “I’m not sure I believe you. Have you had a pizza roll?”
He laughed at that. He was still grinning a little when I crossed to the couch, and he scooted over to make room for me.
I tried not to remember how he’d looked stretched out as I perched near the edge, like a nervous intern waiting for feedback.
Meanwhile, he reclined in the far corner, crossing his ankles and sliding his phone into his pocket.
I cupped my coffee. Blew on it. Tried not to gawk at Sky’s stocking feet near mine. A slightly stilted silence settled between us.
Why did this feel like the awkward morning-after dance, minus the fun hook-up part?
I quickly derailed that train of thought.
Murky light filtered through the blinds and slanted in soft stripes across the laminate flooring.
The sun tried its best to burn through the overcast sky, but it wouldn’t last. Storms were due again today, more moody fall weather. Very on-brand for my life lately.
“So,” I said finally, unable to stand the quiet. I adjusted my cupped hands around my chipped mug when the ceramic got too hot and chanced a glance at Sky. “What now?”
He tipped his coffee back, watching me over the rim. He drank it black. Another sign he wasn’t from Earth.
I tested a sip of my own.
“Well,” he said, “I’d like to try some experiments.”