Page 34 of Love Galaxy

Fucking, fucking hell. How am I supposed to know what the fuck to do with this shit? Is this even edible?

Gingerly, City Single Briar licks the very edge of the spoon. She scrunches up her face, groping blindly at the table. Finally finding her cup, she takes a large swig. She swishes the water around her mouth before swallowing with a shudder.

CITY SINGLE BRIAR

Nope, not at all.

Sorin

Iglance at the mech droid following along beside me. It appeared around an hour ago. Hovering a foot off the ground and no larger than the size of my hand, it has its camera directed toward my face, filming me as I work.

John Smith must have sent it here to record my cowardice. He will want everyone to know how I am hiding from Briar. She who is so much smaller than me, so much physically weaker than me but whose presence in my house was enough to send me running for the horizon.

I work all afternoon, checking the turbines, which convert wind into energy. At least out here I can breathe properly. At least out here I can pretend everything is back to normal, before LOVE GALAXY. Before Briar. Before I knew what kissing was and how sensitive my scales can be to her touch.

When the sun is sinking toward the horizon, I have no choice but to return or risk becoming lost outside in the utter darkness that is Ril II night.

A thick layer of dust covers the droid’s lens, and the wind is starting to tear it apart, finding weaknesses in its joints, attacking the intricate and delicate control mechanisms. No camera could survive outside for long. The turbines, the only tech my family built on the planet’s surface, need constant repair, and they were designed specifically to withstand the harsh environment of Ril II.

Stepping inside the ground-floor room, I close the door before the droid can follow. It drops to the ground, spinning useless circles before being dragged away by the wind. I bet John Smith never sees it again.

Climbing down the ladder, I am greeted by the sight of my destroyed kitchen. Briar is leaning over the hot stove, her back to me, apparently unaware of my presence.

Her hairs hang in limp strands around her shoulders, while water stains mark the sides of her dress where she has clearly wiped her hands many times. She is stirring the contents of my large cooking pot, muttering curses under her breath and sending glances toward the closest of the cameras.

She is beautiful, and my body’s reaction to her closeness is instantaneous. I can suddenly feel my heart racing in my chest. My breath seems to catch in my throat, and my cock is pressing painfully at my slit, desperate for release, desperate for attention. Desperate for Briar.

I step forward, using the table as a barrier between us, hiding my insistent bulge from Briar’s gaze, were she to turn around and see me. I do not remember how adults on Ril I dealt with such situations, when their bodies were determined to announce their desires to an unwelcome recipient. I was too young when we left to have been interested in the ways of Females and mating. And my parents have always been sparse in their physical affection for each other whenever my brothers or I are in their presence, too focused on their work and the success of their business.

Wearing cloth coverings has never been part of Ril’os culture. We do not need them to protect our scales. But I am rapidly coming to understand their desirability in keeping certain parts of the body hidden from others.

Mayhaps finally hearing my strangled breathing, Briar spins around to face me.

“I would have cooked for you.” I say the first thing that comes to mind.

“You weren’t here.”

I have no reply to that. Guilt sours my stomach.

“It doesn’t matter, Sorin, really.” She brushes damp hairs away from her face. “I wanted to cook for you. That is, it was our first task, and I thought I could manage on my own.” And she gestures at the datapad and a message addressed to the both of us from LOVE GALAXY.

I step forward, wanting to help but not able to see any rhythm to her method. None of the ingredients she has chosen pair with each other. And they are all piled into the one pot alongwith a considerable amount of water to create… I do not know what.

“I should not have left, but—” But what?But I want more than you are willing to offer. It sounds selfish, even when I speak the words silently in my head. Besides, we talked about this in the cart ride to my cottage. Returning to the subject now will only prove to everybody, myself included, exactly how desperate I am for Briar.

Creases mar her expressive brow, and I am nearly overcome with the urge to press Human kisses to each one, exploring the shape of her face with my lips and tongue.

Instead I ask, “What does it mean when you have lines along your forehead?” I am not surprised by the hoarseness of my voice.

“My forehead?” The lines deepen as she glances from her cooking to me.

“Like those.” I point.

“Oh, er.” Clasping a hand over her forehead, she clears her throat. “I guess that mainly happens when I’m thinking about something.”

Thinking about dinner? Thinking about our kiss? Thinking about how to escape?

“Or if I’m confused,” she adds. “Oh, and when I’m upset, too, especially if I’m frowning. Or when I’m angry.”

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