Page 2 of Chosen By the Alien
It’s quieter out here. The backyard’s dark, mostly grass and empty lawn chairs. A string of dying fairy lights dangles from the fence, half-lit like a dying star.
I pull a crumpled pack of cigarettes from my back pocket. I don’t even smoke that often, just when I’m nervous. Or bored. Or horny and confused as fuck.
I light one.
The first inhale burns.
I close my eyes, exhale through my nose, and finally —finally— let my shoulders drop.
What the hell was that?
My brain replays the image: the gleam of his skin, the sheer size of him, the way his mouth moved like everything he said mattered. I don’t even know what he was talking about, but I wanted tolisten. And I’mnotthat guy.
I’m not into guys. Never have been.
Not in high school, not in college. Not even that one time in freshman year when my roommate got naked in front of me “by accident.” Sure, I’d noticed if a guy was hot (I’ve got eyes), but that’s not the same thing aswanting.
And yet.
There’s a pressure behind my zipper. A slow throb. My cock doesn’t care about my logic.
I take another drag of my cigarette and stare up at the stars, hoping the night will calm me down.
It doesn’t.
My thoughts drift, uninvited, to Emily. My last girlfriend. Sweet, smart, good in bed. It wasn’t her fault things fell apart. She wanted more: dates, plans, meet-the-parents. I wanted…less. Or maybe something else entirely.
Someoneelse?
I grit my teeth.
I’m just restless. That’s all. Bored. I haven’t gotten laid in months. My imagination’s just filling in blanks. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to walk back in there and find the alien guy and… what? Ask if I can touch him? Smell him?
I shake my head, laugh bitterly under my breath.
Jesus.
Chapter 2
I flick ash off the edge of the porch. The ember glows red in the dark.
Behind me, the door slides open. I don’t turn around.
Maybe it’s Jake. Maybe it’s just someone looking for a quiet corner to puke in.
I stay in the shadows, cigarette between my fingers, trying to steady my pulse.
The porch light doesn’t spill far. Out here, it’s just darkness and the occasional flicker of distant fireworks. My cigarette’s half-burnt, the filter warm between my fingers. I take a slow drag and exhale through my nose.
“Is this space occupied?”
A voice, smooth and oddly precise. Like someone reading off a script butmeaningevery word. Not Jake. Not some drunk college asshole. Not the ex I’d half-hoped might stumble out here with beer breath and regret.
I glance over my shoulder.
The guy from earlier—alien costume. The tall one. Massive shoulders, strange skin in the dim light, mask now off. Not a mask. That face is his. Sharp cheekbones, ridged eyebrows, faint glow beneath the skin like veins of pulsing starlight.
Fuck. He’s even hotter up close.
