Page 38 of Alien Wants A Wife

There had been a second, as Mr. Smith had emerged to investigate the siren, when I’d caught a glimpse of the room behind him. It had looked much like the cockpit of an airplane, covered in buttons with flashing lights and a literal joystick.

Big surprise: this door doesn’t open when we get near. It’s got to be one of those with a biogenetic lock that only opens when it senses Mr. Smith. I run my hands around the edges,testing if I can get it to open manually using brute force, but the gap between the door and the wall is so narrow I can’t get my fingernails into it, let alone my actual fingers.

“Pack your bags!” Mr. Smith bellows.

With my heart leaping into my mouth, I spin around to find him and Chloe standing in the corridor.

Lydia grabs my elbow, her fingers digging into my arm. I don’t pull away. Having her beside me is infinitely better than being alone. For a bit, I’d thought the crew would be my biggest ally on LOVE GALAXY. Now I’m realizing it’s the rest of the cast.

“You’re moving to the main house,” Mr. Smith says, before turning to Chloe and yelling, “Get them off my ship.”

With a final glare, he pushes by Lydia and me, his tail hitting my leg as the door to the cockpit opens for him.Frickin’ biogenetic lock!Glancing over my shoulder, I see all those backlit buttons and rows of touch screens, but I can’t do anything about them, not when the door is already closing. Not with Mr. Smith and Chloe both here. Not when I can’t read any of the options on the touch screens.

For a second, we’re shrouded in silence. It’s only then do I realize how much I’m shaking. No wonder Lydia is holding my arm. If I were her, I’d be scared I was about to faint or something. Sweat runs down my back, while heat prickles my face and neck.

This is my fault,my brain is telling me.Whenever I rush into action— Whenever I don’t stop to think— Something always goes wrong.

I’m not supposed to be that person anymore, not since leaving my family and Asher leaving me. I don’t steal from my mom’s wallet anymore. I don’t throw my abandoned homework into the trash. I don’t put my hand up first at a comedy show for audience participation.

I’m friendly,I remind myself.I’m easy-going. I’m relaxed and chill and creative and kind.

Chloe gives me her I’m-deeply-disappointed-in-youfacebefore beckoning for us to follow her into the walk-in-closet.

“Here,” she says, “you get a bag each. You’ll need to pack enough stuff to last you the rest of filming because I don’t think Mr. Smith is going to let you back on board. So don’t forget anything.” She hands Lydia and me both a duffle bag each.

“I don’t understand. Where are we going?” Lydia asks, her voice pitching high.

I also want to know, but after being the one to get us into this horrendous mess, I’m not game enough to break my silence. I can only hope I haven’t pissed Mr. Smith and Chloe off so much that I’ve risked our chance to get back home.

“To the house,” Chloe responds curtly.

“Killan’s house. No way.” Lydia drops her empty bag and crosses her arms. “I’ll stay here, thanks.”

“No, you won’t.” Chloe unclips a small camera from a rack of clothing. It’s about half the size of her fist. Adjusting the lens, she turns it on so the red light is shining, and she raises it, pointing it first at my face and then at Lydia’s, filming a close-up. “Pack your bags.”

“No.” Lydia kicks her duffle bag. The fabric tangles with her foot.

“Pack your bags,” Chloe repeats, “Or did you want me to tell Mr. Smith that you’re refusing to do as he says?”

“Seriously?”

“Come on.” I tug at Lydia’s arm, and when she doesn’t budge, I pick up her duffle bag and start simultaneously packing hers and mine.

My earlier confidence has completely drained out of me to be replaced by even more guilt. Guilt because I never should’ve disobeyed Mr. Smith. Guilt because I risked so much forabsolutely no reward. Guilt because Lydia has to live with her arch-nemesis—although exactly why she doesn’t like Killan, I don’t understand.

“Trust me when I tell you it’s for the best,” Chloe says, her voice a little softer. She gives Lydia a we’re-all-in-this-togethersmile. “If you and Harlee go to the main house and agree to keep participating in all the tasks and stuff that Mr. Smith asks of you, he’ll get over this little misunderstanding. I’m sure if I tell him that you didn’t know what you were doing and that you never meant to set off the alarm, he’ll come round. Then, when the show’s finished, we’ll all go back to Earth together.”

“Of course we didn’t mean to set off the alarm,” Lydia grumbles, but she has stopped glaring at Chloe, and when I try handing her the half-filled pink duffle, she takes it and continues packing for herself.

“Then again…” Chloe continues, still following Lydia and I with her hand-held camera, “maybe you’ll change your mind and want to stay. Roan is a cutie. Or”—she shrugs, as if whatever she’s going to say next is of no great importance—“maybe you really will still want to leave, and all the guys will be heartbroken. The choice is yours.”

“Can you imagine Killan being heartbroken?” Lydia almost laughs. “I think not.”

Chloe doesn’t answer, except for a glance at me and a wink.

Chapter Fourteen

Roan

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