Page 12 of Wrecked By My Alien Mentor

I can’t help it—I laugh, a deep, rumbling sound that surprises even me. But then I force my expression back into something stern. “You do, in fact, need to learn to use weaponry if you’re going to serve the cause.”

She grins. “Rayguns it is, then.”

“Not so fast,” I say, walking over to the far wall where I’ve set up a dartboard. I grab a set of darts and hold them out to her. “This will help you build the hand-eye coordination necessary to wield a plasma weapon.”

She raises an eyebrow but takes the darts, bouncing one in her palm like she’s weighing its potential. “Darts? Really?”

“Start small,” I say, crossing my arms. “Accuracy is accuracy.”

She steps up to the line I’ve marked on the floor, her brow furrowed in concentration. She takes a deep breath, pulls her arm back, and throws the dart. It hits the wall two feet to the left of the board, ricochets off, and bounces off my head.

I blink, the sting barely registering. She claps a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”

I pluck the dart from the floor and hold it up, my expression deadpan. “Or maybe we could just skip the darts.”

Cora rubs her stomach with a dramatic groan. “I might be able to throw better if I weren’t so hungry. Just saying.”

I glance at her, one eyebrow raised. “Are you blaming your terrible aim on your stomach now?”

She grins, unapologetic. “Absolutely. Food first, darts later.”

I stand, gesturing toward the door. “Fine. Let’s get you fed.”

The elevator ride down to the ground floor is quiet, but I can feel her watching me from the corner of my eye. She’s trying to figure me out, piece by piece. I don’t mind. Let her try.

When the doors open, my cherry-red Ferrari is waiting at the curb, its sleek lines gleaming under the city lights. Cora whistles low and long. “What part of driving fancy cars helps save the timeline?”

I chuckle, unlocking the car with a press of the key fob. “One must keep up appearances.”

She slides into the passenger seat, running her hand over the leather upholstery. “You must be really good at appearances, then.”

“I try,” I say, settling into the driver’s seat. The engine roars to life, a low growl that vibrates through the car. I glance at her. “Buckle up.”

She does, but the grin on her face tells me she’s ready for whatever I throw at her. I hit the gas, and the car leaps forward, weaving through the city streets with precision. The city blurs around us, and I show off a little, taking the turns sharp and fast.

Cora laughs, gripping the door handle. “You drive like my parents drive fifty-five miles an hour everywhere.”

I glance at her, my lips curling into a smirk. “Do I look like your father?”

She tilts her head, her grin widening. “No, but you look like you could be my Daddy.”

My foot slips off the accelerator for a split second, the car jerking slightly before I regain control. I glance sharply at her, but she’s staring out the window, her face serene except for the shit-eating grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“Cora,” I say, my voice low and careful, “are you messing with me?”

She turns to face me, her green eyes glinting with mischief. “I don’t know, Mr. Weller. Sir. Am I?”

I don’t answer, focusing on the road instead. But the air between us feels charged, like she’s just thrown a spark into dry tinder. And neither of us is sure if it’s going to catch fire or fizzle out.

The diner buzzes with the hum of conversation and the clatter of plates. Cora is already halfway through a basket of wings, her fingers slick with sauce, when she turns to me with a question that makes me pause mid-sip of my coffee.

“So, are there, like, girl Vakutans?” she asks, her mouth half-full.

I set the cup down, wiping the steam off my hand. “Yes. Male and female, like most galactic species. Though I’ll admit, the concept of gender isn’t a universal constant across the cosmos.”

Her eyes widen, and she leans forward, ignoring the smear of sauce on her cheek. “Wait, how many alien species are out there?”

“Hundreds of thousands,” I say, leaning back in the booth. The vinyl creaks under my weight. “And probably ten times that number yet to be discovered. The universe is... vast.”

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