Page 1 of Accidentally Abducted

Chapter One

Jake

The thing about Tuesday nights is they're supposed to be boring. Like, aggressively boring. The kind of boring where your biggest decision is whether to reheat leftover pizza or just eat it cold while binge-watching cooking shows you'll never have the motivation to actually follow.

I'm three episodes deep into some British guy making elaborate pastries when my apartment fills with this weird blue light that definitely isn't coming from my ancient TV. My first thought,and I'm not proud of this,is that maybe my upstairs neighbor Derek finally managed to electrocute himself with whatever the hell he's been building up there for the past six months. Which would be ironic, considering he just moved in after our breakup and immediately started some kind of home gym renovation project that sounds like he's training for American Ninja Warrior.

My second thought, as I'm yanked off my couch by some invisible force, is that I really should have worn better underwear today.

The blue light gets brighter, and suddenly I'm not in my living room anymore. I'm not anywhere I recognize, actually, which is concerning for a variety of reasons. The main one being that I'm now standing in what looks like the world's most aggressively white waiting room, if waiting rooms were designed by aliens with a serious minimalism fetish and absolutely zero understanding of human comfort.

"Well," I say to the empty room, because talking to myself is basically my brand at this point, "this is either the weirdest lucid dream I've ever had, or I'm about to become a really embarrassing statistic."

A door slides open with the kind of whoosh that screams 'expensive sci-fi budget,' and in walks... okay, definitely an alien. I mean, I was kind of hoping for the lucid dream option, but apparently my Tuesday night just got a lot more complicated.

The alien is tall,like, uncomfortably tall,with blue-tinted skin and these ridiculously broad shoulders that taper down to a narrow waist in a way that suggests either really good genetics or a personal trainer who takes their job very seriously. His face is humanoid enough that my brain doesn't immediately blue-screen, but there are differences. Sharper cheekbones, eyes that are a little too large and way too golden, and what might be gills on his neck? It's hard to tell from this angle.

He's also completely naked, which is information my brain decides to file under 'deal with later' while it's still processing the whole alien situation.

"Greetings," he says, and his voice has this weird harmonic quality that makes my spine tingle in a way that's definitely not fear. "I am Zeph'hai of the Nereidans Research Collective. You have been selected for our human compatibility program."

I blink at him. "I'm sorry, I've been what now?"

He tilts his head, and the movement is oddly bird-like. "Selected. For compatibility assessment. Our research indicates you are an ideal candidate for genetic... partnership."

"Okay, couple of issues with that," I say, holding up a finger. "First, I'm pretty sure you've got the wrong guy. I can barely keep a houseplant alive, let alone partner with anything genetic. Second, I'm gay, so if this is some kind of weird breeding program situation, you might want to recalibrate your research. And third—" I gesture at him, trying not to let my eyes linger on the really impressive parts, "—you're naked. Like, aggressively naked. Is that a cultural thing, or...?"

Zeph'hai's golden eyes widen, and he looks down at himself like he's just noticing his lack of clothing. When he looks back up, there's a faint blue flush across his cheekbones that I'm going to assume is the alien equivalent of blushing.

"Clothing is unnecessary during the initial compatibility assessment," he says, but he sounds less certain now. "Our research indicated human males prefer immediate visual confirmation of genetic viability."

"Your research needs better sources," I tell him. "What exactly did you guys use? Because it sounds like someone's been getting their human intel from porn sites and Instagram."

The blue flush deepens. "Instagram was... mentioned in our cultural preparation materials, yes. Along with several... educational video platforms."

I stare at him. "Oh my god. You guys actually did use porn and Instagram. That's... wow. That explains literally everything." I run a hand through my hair, which is probably sticking up at weird angles but honestly feels like the least of my problems right now. "Look, Zeph, can I call you Zeph? Zeph'hai feels like a mouthful, and I'm pretty sure I'm butchering the pronunciation."

"Zeph is acceptable," he says, and there's something almost shy about the way he says it.

"Great. So, Zeph, I'm going to go out on a limb here and guess that whoever you were supposed to pick up was Derek Cross from apartment 5A, not Jake Morrison from 4A. Because I'm definitely not anyone's idea of ideal genetic material. I work at a coffee shop, I have a psychology degree I'm not using, and my last relationship ended because apparently I'm 'emotionally unavailable and overly sarcastic.' Which, fair enough, but still."

Zeph's expression shifts to something I can only describe as concerned confusion. "You are not Derek Cross, fitness instructor and nutritional influencer?"

"Nope. That would be my ex-boyfriend, and honestly, the fact that you guys picked him for a compatibility program makes way more sense than picking me. Derek's got the abs, the Instagram followers, and the kind of genetic material that probably photographs well." I pause. "Also, we broke up three months ago and he moved to the apartment upstairs, so you might want to update your intel on that front too."

The silence that follows is the kind of awkward that makes you want to crawl under a rock and stay there until everyone forgets you exist. Zeph stares at me like I've just told him his entire worldview is built on a lie, which, to be fair, might actually be the case.

"This is..." he starts, then stops. "This is very problematic."

"Yeah, I figured." I look around the aggressively white room. "So, uh, what happens now? Do you just... beam me back? Drop me off at the nearest Starbucks? Because I've got to be honest, this whole situation is weird enough that I'm probably going to need some really good coffee to process it."

Zeph'hai, Zeph, runs a hand through his hair, which is darker blue than his skin and looks ridiculously soft. It's an oddly human gesture, and it makes something in my chest do a weird little flutter that I'm absolutely not going to examine too closely right now.

"The transportation cycle cannot be reversed for seventy-two of your hours," he says. "And I have been... assigned to you. For the duration of your stay."

I process this information. "So I'm stuck here for three days, and you're stuck with me."

"That is... an accurate assessment, yes."

---