Page 36 of Alien Warrior Chef… With Benefits
Chocolate chip. Slightly burnt at the edges. Glazed.
My favorite.
She hands it to me, but doesn’t let go right away. Her fingers brush mine, and her voice is soft when she says, “Then start by staying. Just for today.”
I nod.
And I do.
I should’ve turned around the moment I saw the banners.
They drape from the rafters in warm gold and violet hues, the sigil of Galactic Panic Chef Surprise glittering at the center of each. Beneath them, a crowd hums and chatters with the electric pitch of celebration—flashes of holocams, the drone of eager voices overlapping, the scent of cinnamon and citrus caramel thick as smoke.
She’s in the middle of it all.
Ruby.
My Ruby.
No—notmine.
Not anymore.
She stands at the counter like a goddess in an apron, her flour-smeared cheeks flushed with excitement, her smile wide and sharp. The sparkle in her eyes—once reserved, once cautious—is now electric. Alive. She’s radiant, incandescent beneath the hanging lights, basking in the energy of a room that adores her.Deservesto adore her.
Reporters elbow past one another for a better angle, voices raised above the din.
“Ruby Adams, how does it feel to be Novaria’s first human finalist?”
“What’s your inspiration for the opening round?”
“Will Earth Bites stay open while you compete?”
Her laugh cuts through the room like silk whipped through honey. Light, musical, effortless.
I hover in the doorway, unsure if I’ve crossed into a celebration or a shrine.
And I’m the ghost.
She sees me. I know she does.
Her eyes flit toward me—only briefly. A flicker. A blink.
But it’s enough.
She doesn’t falter. Doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t come.
Instead, she turns to the espresso machine, presses a button, and slides my usual across the counter without a word. The chocolate chip muffin, edges just slightly crisp, lands on a napkin beside it. Perfect. Predictable.
Painful.
I move forward, slow as molasses in snow, and reach for the offering like a supplicant. Our fingers don’t touch.
She doesn’t look up.
And just like that, I’m another customer.
“Thank you,” I murmur.
