“Yes!” Fiona’s eyes go starry. “Amara and Marguerite are my besties. Amara is the one who inspired me to apply to the Galactic Matching Program.”
Shathar perks up, too. “How did she do that?”
“Well, she’s got an alien husband, too.” She rubs her chin. “But only one of them.”
Shathar scowls at me and I scowl back.
“It worked out great for them,” Fiona continues, grabbing her keys and leading us back out to the car. “Amara and Roth’kar are the happiest married people I’ve ever seen.”
I know that will be us someday, once all of this is resolved and Shathar is sent back where he came from.
This time, I allow him to sit in the front seat. Fiona made it clear how our conflict with one another annoys her, so I will do my best to keep it at a minimum and tolerate him until she comes around to me and realizes that we are meant to be together.
I watch out the windows, taking in the sight of the city. It’s much larger than one of our villages in every way, and we certainly don’t build anything this tall on Arshur. I am entranced by their shining steel facades until the car pulls up and stops by the side of the street.
“Here we are,” Fiona says, hopping out. I get out of the car as well, and she grabs me quickly. “Oops, watch out! Cars coming.” She quickly closes my door as a massive vehicle drives past, then pulls me around the front of the car onto the pathway. Vakha, these cars are dangerous. But her hand in mine is so small, so soft and warm that I don’t want to let her go.
Shathar’s lip curls when he sees our hands linked, but he doesn’t speak as we join him on the path. There appear to be many shops along the street here, busy with people going in and out.
“Amara!” Fiona calls out, and a tall woman with dark hair and brown skin spins around. She smiles widely when she sees us and claps her hands together.
“Fiona!” She pauses when she sees the two of us standing behind her. “Oh, wow. You weren’t kidding.” The woman approaches slowly, peering over Fiona’s shoulders at me, and then at Shathar. “There’s two of them.”
“Yup. And they both need some clothes.”
“I’ll give you my tailor’s number after this,” Amara says. Then she holds out a hand to me. “Hi! I’m Amara. What’s your name?”
“Khesan,” I answer smoothly, taking her hand in mine. Ah, yes, a human handshake. I read up on these. A firmer handshake means strength, so I shake Amara’s hand fiercely. I am a strong male as Arshurians go.
Her eyes widen, and she quickly pulls her hand away, rubbing it. “Wow. Um. Very nice to meet you, Khesan. Very firm, uh, handshake.”
Perhaps that was too hard.
She offers the same to Shathar, and he is gentler as he imitates me.
“I am Shathar,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to meet one of Fiona’s friends.”
Once introductions are over, Fiona leads the way inside the “thrift store.” It is not at all like one of our swap meets back on Arshur, though. Clothes line racks in every direction, with prices atop the racks.
“Just take a look around,” Fiona says to us. “Pick out whatever strikes your fancy and you can try it on.”
She shows us to the shirt rack and estimates our sizes. “Khesan, you are a bit bigger. Maybe you should look at the extra-larges.”
I puff up. I am larger than Shathar, both taller and broader thanks to my rigorous physical training.
“It is not the size that counts,” Shathar mutters as Fiona moves on to show me the “extra-larges.”
“This would look good on you,” Amara says, plucking a blue shirt off the rack. She holds it up to Shathar. “Sets off your scales.”
While Shathar is occupied with Fiona’s friend, I follow Fiona to the other end where she’s leafing through clothing. She pulls one off that says LED ZEPPELIN in big letters and offers it to me.
“What is a Led Zeppelin?” I hold it up in front of me as I look in a mirror.
“A band. You wouldn’t know who they are. But it’ll make you look trendy.”
“What if someone asks me about this Led Zeppelin?”
“Say they’re the greatest rock band of all time or something. Here, they’ve got others.” She pulls off another shirt, yellow this time, with nothing but a big, smiling face in the middle. “Hmm. This is kind of creepy.”
