Page 15 of Oh No, I Shot A Spaceship And Kissed An Alien Cyberchef

Ashe moves to take the plate, our hands brush. We both jerk back as if burned, nearly upending the dish in the process.

“Sorry,” we say in unison, then lapse back into awkward silence.

This is ridiculous. We’re acting like teenagers who got caught making out behind the bleachers, not grown adults who shared one (admittedly mind-blowing) kiss. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen more mature behavior from the gelatinous blob guests.

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. We need to talk about this. Clear the air before things get even more weird and complicated. As if that’s even possible at this point.

“Nelan, about what happened-” I begin.

“We should deliver the food before it gets cold,” Nelan says. “I… sorry, I didn’t mean to talk over you.”

I wave him off. He’s right. For once. Not that I’ll ever admit it out loud. My pride is already bruised enough as it is. “We’ve put so much effort into this one dish, it should be served immediately. Wouldn’t want all that tentacle-arranging to go to waste.”

“Indeed,” Nelan agrees, not meeting my eyes. “The process was... more involved than anticipated.”

The room suddenly feels stifling. Being near him feels too much. My body still thrums from our encounter, and even his scent lingers in my very lungs. I need space. I just need to regroup and figure out what’s going on and what I’m going to do and… maybe find a hole to crawl into for the next century or two.

“I’ll take it,” I offer, picking up the plate. Maybe if I’m lucky, I’ll trip and the General will be too busy laughing at me to notice any imperfections in the dish.

For a moment, I think he’s going to say something. His mouth opens slightly, his eyes meeting mine with an intensitythat makes my breath catch. I brace myself for... well, I’m not sure what. A declaration of love? Another lecture on proper tentacle placement?

But then the moment passes. Nelan gives a short nod and quickly walks through the door, leaving it swinging and me alone with my tumultuous thoughts and a kitchen full of alien ingredients.

I slump against the counter.

What a mess. How did I go from reluctant coworker to... whatever the hell this is? I’ve spent so long building walls, protecting myself from getting hurt again. And in one moment of weakness, I’ve torn them all down.

But even as I berate myself, I can’t even ignore the warmth that blooms in my chest when I think of that kiss. The way Nelan looked at me, like I was something precious and terrifying all at once. The feeling of rightness when he held me. It’s like finding a piece of home in this alien world.

I want to deny it, but I can’t ignore the truth any longer: I have feelings for Nelan. Real, complicated, probably ill-advised feelings. The kind of feelings that lead to either happily ever after or spectacular disaster. Knowing my luck, probably the latter.

And I have absolutely no idea what to do about it. I’m so screwed.

With a sigh that could power a small wind turbine, I straighten up and head for the door. Time to face the music... or in this case, the probably-not-a-food-critic-but-still-terrifying alien general. Here’s hoping our culinary masterpiece doesn’t start a political incident.

Just another day in the life of Laura, human disaster and accidental alien chef extraordinaire.

Chapter

Five

LAURA

Ibalance the elaborate dish carefully as I navigate the hotel’s winding corridors. My arms ache from the weight of the ornate platter, but I refuse to let it show. After all the fuss Nelan made over this Gral-whatever, the last thing I need is to trip and spill alien tentacles all over the floor.

My mind wanders as I walk, replaying the kiss with Nelan over and over. The warmth of his lips, the strength of his arms around me... I shake my head, trying to dispel the memory. Now is not the time to get distracted by complicated feelings for stubborn alien chefs. Besides, with my luck, I’d probably end up burning my tongue on his spicy alien cooking.

As I approach the General’s suite, voices drift through the partially open door. I slow my steps, straining to hear. Eavesdropping: because sometimes being nosy is less dangerous than being clueless. Or so I tell myself.

“... cannot continue like this, Your Highness,” a deep, authoritative voice rumbles. It must belong to the General. “The situation on Latium grows more unstable by the day.”

I freeze, my heart pounding. I shouldn’t be hearing this. But curiosity gets the better of me, and I inch closer, careful not to make a sound. I’m basically a ninja now, if ninjas carried precarious platters of alien cuisine and had a tendency to trip over their own feet.

“I understand your concerns, General Karzak,” Rist’s familiar voice replies, sounding weary. “But I’ve told you, I have no desire to return.”

“With all due respect, sir, your desires are irrelevant in the face of our people’s needs,” the General counters. “Your brother’s reign has become increasingly tyrannical. The people suffer while he indulges in ever more extravagant luxuries.”

I lean in closer, barely daring to breathe. What exactly is going on here?

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