Page 15 of Dealing With Drak

Our ship, not the ship.

I have to give him credit for it, Drak is amazing when it comes to sharing. He doesn’t feel the need to flaunt his possession over things to make me feel like I have less. The only thing he ever calls his are his weapons, and I understand that. People think that knives and guns are tools, but they’re so much more than that. Drak gets that.

Slinging my backpack over my shoulders, I follow him outside without saying goodbye. It’s probably harsh, even for me, but drawing this out longer will only make Megan more angry, Brooke more sad, and Cayte more confused.

Drak stops suddenly, standing in front of nothing. His stupidly nice scent wafts around me as I almost run straight into his muscular back. Of course, the Aprixians never seem to stink like human men. They don’t sweat either, from what I can tell. They’re just in a constant state of smelling like a freaking meadow or something.

Not Drak, though. While most of them naturally smell like daisies or pine trees, Drak smells like candy. It’s so strong that it can be dizziness, literally.

Taking a step back, I secretly sniff my own arm, trying to drown out his aroma before I start to drool or something even more mortifying. We’ve hardly gone into the yard, and the big ship is tens of feet away, so I don’t get why he’s stopped walking anyway.

“Why are we stopping here?” I demand, trying to take my mind off of his sugary sweet scent and get back to the task at hand.

Drak looks over his shoulder, flashing a playful grin that shows off his sharp canines. Eating with those without cutting up your tongue has to be a learned skill. That, or his tongue is as indestructible as his skin.

Wouldn’t you like to know? A traitorous voice laughs, teasing me in my own head.

No. No, I wouldn’t.

“This is our ship,” he reports proudly, his chest inflating with a draw of breath. Before I can punch him in the arm and demand to see the actual ship, he pulls a tiny remote from his pocket and clicks a little blue button.

Like actual magic, the small flying-car-like spaceship materializes before my eyes. I knew they had unheard-of technology, but seeing is truly believing because if he told me he could make something entirely invisible before this, I’d have laughed at him.

“Whoa,” I mutter, letting the sound slip out.

The glimmering light that sparks behind his eyes at my response has me kicking myself. Letting Drak know you’re impressed with something is the best way to boost his already over-inflated ego.

“This is our best defense against unfriendly hu-nims. If I sense them in the area, we will use the ship to conceal ourselves and check the safety of coming out before we do.”

This is why it’s so annoying that Cayte would question Drak. He’s a fucking war hero on his planet, he knows how to go on a mission. He doesn’t need some human college girl grilling him about his abilities, as well-placed as her intentions were.

“Does it have a defense system?” I ask, circling the thing to get a good look.

“Oh, absolutely,” he replies, happy to answer. Without needing to be asked, he starts to show me where they are from the outside.

The thing is a tank, not because it’s big and bulky. No, it’s slim and looks like it can zoom through the sky at ridiculous speeds. It’s like a tank because it’s got some serious firepower. Blasters are mounted and hidden underneath it, ready to be used at the push of a button.

“What fuels this thing?” I ask, genuinely curious how such an advanced technology is going to fare on Earth.

“Sun batteries,” he explains like I should know what that means.

“Like solar power? Like we have at the house?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Nothing that basic, no. Lovan, he is a very smart male from my planet, and he has explained this to me before. It is like harvesting sun particles and turning them into a gel. The batteries last for many years if they are not disturbed. They do not need to recharge.”

“Huh,” I murmur, trying to digest the concept. “No gas?”

“What is gas?” he wonders. “My translator is trying to tell me multiple words to match it.”

I really don’t understand Aprixian technology, especially the language translators. From what I’ve gathered, the Aprixian guys have somehow had a basic level of English injected into their heads. I’m not sure if it’s some kind of magic or science, but honestly, I wouldn’t discount magic. It seems too good to be true—let alone the result of some alien space computer.

“Gasoline,” I tell him. “Not the state of matter kind of gas. Gasoline is what we use for engines, to make things run, but we use it with batteries.”

“Ah,” he hums. “We do not use liquid to power things… that I am aware of. I am afraid I am not very interested in the science of things.”

Neither am I.

I shrug, not caring. “Doesn’t matter, as long as you know how to fly it.”

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