"So, what's the plan?" I asked as Xabat tore into his third bag of chips—salt and vinegar this time—while I nursed a lukewarm Coke. The syrupy sweetness coated my tongue, but without coffee, it was the next best thing.
He tilted his head, those violet eyes going distant and unfocused. Listening. To sounds from outside that I couldn't hear, probably. All that reached my ears was the raucous crying of seagulls wheeling overhead, but Xabat's hearing was far better than mine. Alien biology giving him advantages I was only beginning to understand.
"We can give it one more day," he said finally, crunching through another chip with deliberate slowness. "My ship is about ten miles north of here. We should be able to make it on foot with no issue once the water recedes a bit more."
On foot? I turned the words over in my mind, my brow furrowing as I tried to picture the journey. Then it hit me—what should have been glaringly obvious from the start. His ship was a spaceship, not a boat.
"You…." I swallowed hard, the reality of it crashing over me like a rogue wave. "You want me to come on your spaceship." My heart kicked into overdrive, hammering against my ribs like it was trying to punch its way out of my chest. Fear? Excitement? Some dizzying cocktail of both that made my head spin?
"Harper." His voice cut through the spiral of panic, grounding me. Anchoring me. "You're safe here, for now. Butif the people looking for you are human...." He trailed off, his expression darkening like storm clouds. "I can't protect you here. Not the way I need to. Not against your own kind."
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry despite the Coke. "What are you saying?"
"Come with me. To theHistoria." His eyes locked onto mine, and there was something raw and exposed in them, something vulnerable that made my chest ache. Like he was offering me not just safety, but a piece of himself. Something precious. "I can keep you safe there."
Safe. On a spaceship. Hurtling through the infinite darkness of space, surrounded by technology I couldn't begin to comprehend.
It should have sounded insane. Like something out of a fever dream or a bad science fiction novel. It should have terrified me, sent me running back to the familiar comfort of my ordinary life: second graders with sticky fingers, Wednesday night margaritas with April, and dodging her constant attempts to fix me up with every single man in a fifty-mile radius.
But all I could think about was how nothing had felt right since Seth died. How I'd been going through the motions3, existing in the spaces between heartbeats but not really living. Just surviving. On autopilot. A ghost haunting my own life.
Until Xabat crashed into it.
Even here, surrounded by destruction and debris, he'd awakened something I'd thought was dead. Something new and exciting and terrifying that pulsed deep in my soul. Something that recognized him on a level deeper than logic or reason, that felt right and whole and complete when I was near him. Like a key finally finding its lock after years of trying wrong doors.
"Okay," I heard myself say, the words escaping before I could second-guess them into oblivion. "I'll go with you."
The smile that broke across his face stole whatever breath I had left. Relief, happiness, pure unfiltered joy. It radiated from him like sunlight breaking through clouds, transforming his features into something so beautiful my heart physically ached.
Then reality crashed back in with all the subtlety of a freight train.
"I'll need to text my friends and send a message to my boss, though," I added, my voice dropping back to Earth. "I can't just vanish without a word. I don't want anyone to worry about me, thinking the hurricane swept me out to sea."
Xabat nodded, understanding flickering across his face. "I can arrange communication when we get to the shuttle."
"I have my cell phone." I dug my backpack out from under a pile of towels. "I turned it off when the storm started to conserve power. It should have some battery left."
I pulled out the phone, still encased in its cheerful pink daisy case—a birthday gift from April that I'd never had the heart to replace despite how ridiculously girly it was. I waved it at him like a trophy. Xabat raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering across his features, but he had the good sense to keep his mouth shut.
The screen lit up when I pressed the power button. About half the battery remained, and surprisingly, I had two bars of service—good for after a hurricane, when cell towers were usually down or overloaded.
I shot off an email to my boss first, keeping it professional but warm. I tendered my resignation, apologized for the short notice, and explained that I was moving back to the beach permanently—couching the decision as a long-held desire rather than a sudden one. I mentioned how the threat of the hurricane had clarified how much the beach house meant to me. Hopefully it made sense.
Next came a group text to my friends—my former college roommate, a few teachers from school I occasionally grabbed drinks with. I told them I'd be staying at the beach for a while, fixing up the house from hurricane damage. I made it sound like a temporary sabbatical that might turn permanent. Vague enough to be believable, specific enough to forestall worry.
The last text went to April. My fingers hesitated over the keys before I committed to the lie. I told her the same basic story but added that I'd met someone during the hurricane. That there were sparks and I would be staying at the beach for a while to explore it further. If April thought I'd met a guy, she wouldn't ask too many questions about my motives. She'd been trying to set me up for the past year, convinced that what I needed was to get back out there, to open my heart again. She'd be thrilled, not suspicious.
With my past settled—or at least temporarily placated—I turned my attention to the future stretching before me. A future that involved leaving Earth entirely.
"So, when we get to theHistoria," I started, catching my bottom lip between my teeth as I tried to figure out how to phrase what I wanted to ask. "What's it like living on a spaceship? I mean, day to day. Do you have... I don't know, quarters? A mess hall? Is it like Star Trek or…?"
"Not much different from living anywhere else," Xabat interrupted with a snort of amusement, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that made my stomach flip every single time. "You still wash the dishes, do laundry, stub your toe on furniture in the dark. Some things are universal, no matter what planet you're from."
I laughed, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep in my chest, releasing some of the tension that had been coiling there since I'd started thinking about the reality of leaving. Of course, alien spaceships would have dirty dishes. Of course,there would be mundane chores and everyday annoyances. Somehow that made it all feel more real, more possible—less like a fantasy I'd wake up from.
Then something occurred to me, and I looked up at him, letting a teasing glint spark in my gaze. "Will my room be near yours?"
His dark purple eyes locked onto my face, holding so much raw desire that my breath caught in my throat. His hand reached out, fingers brushing my cheek with feather-light pressure, then traced a slow, deliberate line down the side of my neck, following the curve where it met my shoulder. My skin tingled everywhere he touched.
