Page 26 of So I Married an Alien
“Oh, I did.”She winds our fingers together in her lap.“I definitely did.”
The ride home is a blur.All I remember is our hands linked together and Amara’s voice as she narrates where we’re going, what landmarks we’re passing.
Then we get off at our stop.I stray away from her, to what I think is our way home, and she grabs my arm, laughing.“Not that way.There are no streetlights that way.”
I blink up at the lights overhead.
“They keep us safe at night,” she says.“Don’t wander off down dark alleys.”
I take note of that, wondering what might lurk on the streets where there are no lights.Perhaps squirrels.Or worse,dogs.I can’t have Amara getting bitten by an animal on my watch.
When we reach a corner, she tries to step out into the street while the light is red.I grab her by the arm and hold her back.
“It is not time.”I point at the orange hand sign.
Amara obediently stops beside me.“Of course, Dad,” she says with a giggle.I don’t know what this means, as I am not her father, but she is also drunk.
It is… adorable.
When the walking man appears, I lead her across the street to make sure she doesn’t trip, and she holds onto me all the way home.
Back in the apartment, Amara convinces me to drink two whole glasses of water, then bids me goodnight and toddles off to her room alone, muttering something to herself.Now I know whatgetting wastedentails.
I am tempted to follow her.Not because I intend anything lewd, but because I worry about her well-being.If I were next to her, I could keep an eye on her.But she did not invite me and so I go back to my own room with thefuton.
I don’t mind sleeping here, but as my vision swims, I think it might be pleasant if I weren’t by myself.I spent all night at Amara’s side, watching as her makeup smudged and her smile grew wider, and I want to keep watching.I wonder what she looks like as she sleeps.
When I close my eyes, the world is still tilting and swaying in the blackness, but I’m so exhausted that I’m swept away.
“Roth’kar!”The sound of my name being called out worms its way into my consciousness.
I sit up, bleary-eyed, on the too-small bed.A steady, low thrumming in my head makes every vibration hurt, including the knock on the door to my room.
“Coffee?”Amara asks quietly.
I squint.“Co—what?”
The door opens as I rub my painful head, and Amara slips inside.She has a mug full of something steaming hot, and a tangy but pleasant smell fills the air.
“Coffee,” she repeats.“It’s a drink that will help with your hangover.”
“Hangover?”I reach for the hot mug and Amara gently places it in my hands, patting my arm.I sniff the dark liquid, and the scent is foreign but delicious.
“That nasty feeling you have in your head and your stomach right now.”She gives me a pitying look.“It’s called a hangover.I’m not doing much better.That’s how I know.”
I bring the drink to my lips and sip.I’m taken aback at how bitter it is, and I push the mug away.
“Disgusting,” I say, running my tongue over my teeth to clear away the flavor.Amara laughs.
“You’ll change your mind.”She takes my hand in hers and tugs.“Eating something will help you feel better.Come on, there’s bacon cooking.”
I don’t know what thisbaconis, but as I reluctantly leave my room, I smell it: something fatty and salty and smoky.My mouth waters.
“It’s almost done.”Amara scurries to the kitchen, flipping food over in a pan.“Plus eggs and some orange juice.The perfect hangover cure.”
While I sit at the table, she plates the meal, then carries it over and sets it down in front of me, followed by a cup of some kind of… sure enough, orange-colored juice.
“How literal,” I remark as I take a sip.This is much more acceptable than thecoffee.
