Page 27 of Close Encounters of the Hot Kind

"Theoretically?" He wipes his hands on his apron. "An electromagnetic pulse would do it. Fries any electronics in range."

"Like a mini blackout?"

"Exactly! Here, let me show you." Dad grabs a handful of mozzarella balls from the prep station. "Look, even if someone is an alien, their technology still operates by the same laws of physics that ours does." He arranges the cheese on the counter. "Let's pretend these matza balls here are the disguise. See how they're around that wad of dough? Now pretend my mouth is an EMP field."

Before I can stop him, he scoops up all the cheese balls and shoves them in his mouth.

"Dad!" But I can't help laughing.

Mom appears from the back, hands on her hips. "You're going to be blocked up for days, Sam!"

Dad swallows with a grin. "That's what Metamucil is for!"

Back in my room, I pull up Google on my phone. "How to make EMP field at home." The results make my eyes cross. Capacitors? Circuit boards? Physics equations that look like ancient hieroglyphics?

I switch to "strongest magnets Chicago." Auto salvage yards pop up, their giant electromagnets capable of lifting entire cars. Perfect. Now I just need to get Charles to...

What am I doing? This is ridiculous. I'm plotting to drag a billionaire CEO to a junkyard on the off chance some giant magnet might short out his possible alien disguise?

The phone slips from my fingers onto the bed. I flop back beside it, covering my face with my hands.

"You're losing it, Aileen."

The truth is, I don't need elaborate schemes or Star Trek technology. I just need to ask him. Straight up.

My hand finds the phone again. I scroll through my contacts until I reach "Charles Varakian." My thumb hovers over the call button.

What's the worst that could happen? He denies everything? Laughs it off? Or maybe...maybe he tells me the truth.

The memory of those golden eyes flashes through my mind. The feeling of scaled skin beneath my fingers.

I press call before I can talk myself out of it.

"Aileen." His voice slides through the phone like warm honey. "What a delightful surprise."

My knees wobble and I sink onto my bed. The way he says my name should be illegal in at least three states.

"I was just thinking about you, little delicacy."

Heat floods my cheeks. No. Focus. Don't let him distract you with that voice.

"Charles." My voice comes out squeaky. I clear my throat and try again. "Charles, I need to talk to you. And I need you to just listen."

"Whatever you wish, Aileen."

That accent of his, the one I can't place, wraps around each syllable of my name like a caress. Like poetry made of pure gold. My resolve wavers.

Maybe I could wait. Maybe tonight we could just...

No.

I grip the phone tighter, squeezing my eyes shut. "I know you're not what you seem. In the limo, your disguise glitched out. I saw what you really look like."

The words tumble out in a rush before I lose my nerve. "But I don't care. I still want to see you tonight."

Silence stretches between us, broken only by my thundering heartbeat.

His laugh ripples through the phone, rich and warm. My shoulders sag with relief - it's genuine, not the nervous chuckle of someone caught in a lie.

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