Page 23 of Galactic Sentinels: Vol 2
A heady mix of nerves and excitement swells inside me. Having him to myself all afternoon? It’s a dream—and a nightmare.
This is my chance to show him who I really am. But also, the perfect opportunity to make a total fool of myself. It’s happened before. More than once.
“I doubt Ayden’s dying to spend hours with a people so… different from us,” I say hesitantly.
“Don’t be silly,” Mom says. “Exploring different cultures is exactly what they do!”
“Umm… right. Of course,” Ayden agrees, sounding less than thrilled.
“Great. Don’t be late for dinner!” Mom says, disappearing out the front door.
And that’s it. We’re committed. No backing out—for either of us.
My heart is racing just thinking about what’s ahead. Spending hours with Ayden—it’s both terrifying and exhilarating. I’m always so awkward around him. Every word, every move feels like a potential disaster.
But at the same time… this might be my only real chance. I want him to see me—not as Logan’s little sister, but as me. Someone interesting. Someone worth noticing.
“Alright?” I say—half question, half declaration.
“Alright,” he replies, getting to his feet.
“Give me a minute—I need to change first!” I blurt out, darting toward my room.
I quickly yank off the long linen dress the colonists are so fond of and slip into my mauve lycra bodysuit.
“I’m ready! Let’s go,” I announce, motioning toward the door.
Ayden gives my outfit a once-over, his brow furrowed.
“The Gekkaris don’t wear clothes,” I explain. “This is the closest thing we have to their appearance. That’s why Mom and I always wear these skintight suits when we visit them.”
Without a word, he turns and walks out, not waiting for me.
It hits me a second later—this outfit hugs everything. That’s the point, after all. It’s like a second skin, outlining every curve, every imperfection.
Great.
But I’m not about to show up in their village looking like a crumpled colonist in baggy fabric. If Ayden doesn’t like it, well… that’s his problem.
I catch up with him and head for the exit of Gekkar Creek. Without hesitation, I lead us to our aeropod—the small, spherical flying vehicle Mom and I use. It supports two people easily. But suddenly, it dawns on me: flying with my mom is not the same thing as flying with Ayden. This is going to be… intimate, to say the least.
“I’m driving,” Ayden says, stepping forward as I reach for the controls.
“No way,” I object. “You don’t even know where we’re going.”
“You can tell me.”
“You’re a head taller than me. If I’m behind you, I won’t see any landmarks. I’m driving.”
He doesn’t seem too thrilled about the idea of being stuck behind me for an extended period.
Too bad.
Without waiting, I hop into the aeropod and run through the usual checks. Solar battery—full. Brakes—responsive. Good to go.
I glance at him, raising an eyebrow.
“Don’t worry, I won’t fly too fast,” I tease.
