Page 32 of Alien Wants A Wife

“Something— Wait, you don’t know what kissing is?”

“Should I?” I reach out a hand, intending to steady myself against a wall or a storage shelf, and accidentally brush against Harlee. She is standing a lot closer than I had realized. “Sorry.”

“That’s my shoulder.” She takes hold of my hand, intertwining our fingers. Her skin is cold; I think Humans do not retain body heat as sufficiently as Ril’os. In the darkness, without my sight, I am more aware of her touch than of anything else. The difference in our temperatures only serves to amplify that awareness.

“You’ve really never kissed anyone?” she asks, and then I hear a click that is her teeth as she snaps her mouth shut. “Sorry, for a second I forgot that it’s only you and your brothers.” She squeezes my hand. “Isn’t that lonely?”

“I have off-world friends.”

“They visit you?”

“We message. On our datapads.”On the LOVE GALAXY official fan chatroom.

“Like internet friends. That’s cool.”

“They… might be cold. I have never specifically asked about their temperature.”

“What I don’t understand is why you guys insist on living here. Aren’t there other planets with other people where you could go?”

“Many planets.” More planets than anyone has ever been able to record. “But Ril II is our home. Our livelihood is here. Our parents’ legacy.”

“I see.” A pause. “No, actually I don’t. I wouldn’t stay somewhere I wasn’t happy. I’ve done that before, and it sucks. It really sucks, and leaving also sucked, but now—” A little laugh. “Now everything is… great.”

Except Harlee does not sound as if everything is great.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not saying that my parents didn’t love me. Of course they did. They just…”

I hear her swallow.

“Never mind. It’s a long story.”

“I have time to listen.” When she does not say anything, I lightly squeeze her hand, letting her know that I am with her. That she is safe with me.

“I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Iwantto listen.”

“If you’re sure?—”

“Yes.” No hesitation.

“Umm… So…”

I can practically hear her internal debate as she determines whether she will tell me or not.

There is another pause, then she says, “So back in the seventies, my dad got a scholarship for post-grad study in Australia. That’s where he met my mom, at uni. They fell in love and got married after graduation. Immediately, Momgot pregnant with my brother, and then with my sister. Dad got permanent residency and a job working at the uni as an economics lecturer and— Am I making sense? Is this translating?”

“Yes.” Some of it. Enough that I think I understand the gist of what she is telling me.

“Well, it wasn’t until my brother was fourteen and my sister was twelve that I was born. My parents were shocked. They didn’t think it was still possible for Mom to get pregnant. And so I was born. The surprise child.”

Another pause. I do not interrupt. Mayhaps Harlee is lost in her own thoughts. Mayhaps she is regretting telling me about herself and her family.

“My siblings are smart, likereally smart. They were both in high school by the time I came along, and my parents were always busy driving them to school or debate club or cricket or their music lessons—I told you it’s a long story.”

“And I am still listening.”

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