by Sherry Soule
“Sloane, I’m sorry.” Hayden grabs my hands. “You’re the only girl for me. All that other stuff is in the past. It doesn’t matter now.”
My ears warm and a snarl curls my upper lip. I’m not the same naive girl anymore. Sloane Masterson has gone through some major changes this year. And he just doesn’t get it. Probably because his ex-girlfriends, former father-in-law, and his own mother worship the ground he walks on, while they’d like nothing more than to trip me up and watch me eat dirt.
“But it’s not in the past,” I say, the words pouring out at all angles and sharp edges. “And it does matter when I spend over an hour freezing my ass off and your ex-girlfriends keep harassing me,” I say, yanking away my hands. “This is supposed to be a fun vacation. No drama.”
Hayden shakes his head slightly. “I know! But I can’t help what other people do.”
Our eyes hold for a moment. Tension soaks the air.
“I need to take a walk. I’ll talk to you later.”
I know he’s not to blame, but being Hayden’s girlfriend is tough on a girl’s self-esteem and her well-being. Neela’s outright hate twists my insides into raw, edgy little knots. I stomp down the beach and walk home instead of teleporting to burn off some steam. I miss a turn and wind up on the wrong street, then have to double-back.
“Ugh. All these damn houses look alike!”
Domed metal buildings line the street, each structure has large glass windows and thin metallic doors. The breeze picks up as I wade through the topaz-colored grass whipping against my bare legs. So many edifices, with twilight darkening their maroon, oxidized exteriors. The sidewalk is paved with smooth, oblong rocks as wide as a dirt road. I swat at a pink, flying insect, buzzing around my face. It only takes me a few more tries to figure out which house is mine in Zeta world.
Trudging into the house, I find Viola and Tanisha relaxing near the pool. The instant they notice my frustrated expression, the girls stand and rush inside.
“What’s with the scowly face?” Viola asks. “Where have you been?”
“I should’ve stayed on Earth and taken my chances with Sector Thirteen!” I keep ranting while they follow me to my bedroom. “Then all this Neela drama would’ve been avoided. I’ve about had it with Hayden’s wacko ex-girlfriends! Do you know what that Disney-Princess-Bitch did to me?”
“What?” Viola and Tanisha ask in unison.
At the closed door, I whirl, my hair flying out. “She stole my clothes! That’s why I didn’t make it to the restaurant. Neela’s as batshit crazy as her father.”
Viola laughs, covering her mouth with one hand. “She did what?”
“You heard me, she took my stuff and left me naked in the restroom,” I say, my voice loud and trill. “Hayden had to get my clothes back. It was beyond humiliating.”
Turning, I throw open the door to my room and stop dead in my tracks. Viola crashes right into me, and Tanisha bumps into Viola.
“It looks like someone is sucking up,” Tanisha says. “He must feel bad about what happened.”
For a second, I can’t respond. My mouth drops. Vases bursting with exotic flowers shroud the room, arranged on the nightstands and the dresser with strings of brightly colored balloons attached to them. A note rests against my pillow on the bed beside a box of chocolates.
“Someone sure knows how to apologize.” Viola sniffs an arrangement of scarlet and lilac flora. “Except he gave you live flowers, how tacky.”
“You’re probably the only girl on this planet that prefers dead ones,” I tease.
Tanisha’s eyes go wide. “Did you guys have a fight?”
I sigh. “Sort of.”
I’ve been a raging bitch of emotions lately, and Hayden doesn’t deserve my anger. My heart beats fiercely as I lift the card.
Dear Peaches,
I’m sorry my ex-girlfriends are such crazies. It isn’t fair that you keep being terrorized by the people in my life. I know you have the right to be angry about what Neela did, but please don’t forget that being your boyfriend means I also have the right to take you out tonight and cheer you up. I’ll come by at seven and I promise a yummy dessert.
Love, Hayden
“The stuff is all from Hayden,” I say.
“How did he pull this off?” Viola asks.
“He must’ve teleported inside the house with the flowers,” Tanisha says.
“Wow. Romantic overkill.” Viola touches the velvety petals of a blue blossom. “Well, Zach had better start stepping up his game.”
“You going to marry him?” Tanisha asks me. “That could be a problem. I doubt the Lancasters will allow it.”
“Seriously?” I shoot a glare at Viola. “Can’t you keep any secrets?”
Viola shrugs. “Tanisha has been our friend for years and she was bound to find out anyway.”
“Poor guy has no idea what he’s in for,” Tanisha jokes. “But he gets props for not giving up.”
I nod. “Guess I have a date to get ready for.”
NINETEEN
Hayden comes to the house later that night, and I answer the door at his second knock. His mismatched gaze gives me the once-over in my outfit. I’m working the hell out of this Gothic Lolita dress. It would’ve been wildly inappropriate for school, with my platform Mary Janes, but it’s perfect for a date night. Hayden looks smokin’ hot, dressed in his usual ultra-cool guy attire: black leather jacket, dark blue shirt, jeans, and a wallet chain, with unlaced combat boots.
He lets out a whistle, shaking his shaggy bangs out of his eyes. “You are absolutely, amazingly gorgeous, and yet, that’s the least interesting thing about you.”
My heart expands, pushing against my ribcage. I bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh, yeah? What else is interesting?”
My boyfriend moves closer, invading my space, and his scent, a mixture of sandalwood soap and spicy alien pheromones, surrounds me. “Your smile is contagious. You have a great sense of humor, and you’re more fun than bubble-wrap.”
“You’re so dumb.” I snort-laugh in that noisy, manic, throw-your-head-back way.
He laughs, too. “I wish I could make you laugh like that more often. You’re always beautiful to me, but when you smile like that, I swear my world stops.”
Blushing, I grab his hand. “I’m sorry for taking out my anger on you earlier. That wasn’t fair.”
“Yet understandable,” Hayden says. “And you have nothing to apologize for. It takes a special kind of girl to put up with being my girlfriend and all the baggage that it entails.”
“It is a lot,” I agree. “So what’re doing first?”
“You’ll see…”
He teleports us to a mountain just outside the city, with a cave-like opening lit by low-voltage lighting that reflects off the coral walls. A rainforest surrounds the cave, unlike any grove I’ve ever seen. The mossy trees appear knotted together as if in a loving embrace, the branches entangled in twisty hugs. The trees have luminous tangerine and amber leaves sprouting from their snaking limbs—the fronds thick and heavy, like garments draped over a clothesline to dry.
The dual suns sink in the darkening sky that’s splashed with bright stars, casting the area in a glimmering gold twilight. A sultry gust rustles the trees, exposing the undersides of their fluorescent leaves, and heating my skin.
“Reticuli kinda reminds me of Earth, but it’s so different. This planet’s way more colorful and vibrant,” I say. “It’s like living in Willy Wonka’s factory or Alice’s Wonderland.”
“I never thought of it that way, but you’re right, it is.”
We walk through the mouth of the cave, descending a flight of stairs carved into the rock to a restaurant located within a spacious cavern. A pink and green tree, majestic and regal, like a queen surrounded by her humble subjects, grows out of the floor, the centerpiece of the room. The dimly lit subterranean eatery has rectangle tables and low music playing. Robot waiters attend to the patrons, and an android leads us to a private corner table, placi
ng blue milky drinks before us. We sit across from each other, with my back to the room.
“Besides the romantic apology, why the special occasion?” I reach for the glass of blue milk on the table.
“It’s our four-month anniversary and it happens to be your birthday.”
“It is? Are you sure?” I straighten, spilling liquid on the table. “I feel so stupid that I didn’t even know! With everything that’s happened, I completely forgot about my birthday.”
“Happy eighteenth birthday, Peaches.”
“I mean, I feel awful that I missed our one month anniversary. Not to mention, our two month—”
“Not a problem.” Hayden takes a swig of his drink and sets the glass on the table with a clank.
“So how were they?” I take a sip of the blue milk, thick and sweet—like a cross between peanut butter and chocolate, and put the glass down.
He grins. “Amazing.”
I giggle. “Well, I am a fun date.”
A basket of warm bread sits in the middle of the table. I grab a slice, take a bite, and let it melt in my mouth. I’m glad my mom isn’t here because she would’ve whacked me upside the head with a calorie counter.
When the android returns, Hayden orders. “We’ll have the curried Maragon shints and deep-fried Planadon legs with two glasses of Zorellian Slug juice, please. Oh! And ploymanti fruit pie for dessert.”
I wrinkle my nose. “Slug juice?”
“Trust me. It tastes like soda.”
The waiter returns with our food and two fizzy green drinks minutes later, and the cuisine looks strange, but smells divine and tastes delicious. I like the Planadon legs the best. Plus, fried is definitely my favorite F word.
“I’m sorry about Neela,” he says, “stealing your clothes.”
“And I feel bad. I shouldn’t have overreacted. Fighting with you sucks monkey butt.”
Hayden reaches for his glass. “We can’t keep making up just to have something stupid cause us to fight. Honestly, I can’t stand it when you’re mad at me, but there is a solution.”
A robot waiter drops a heavy tray and the metal clatter rings out like an explosion, making me flinch.
“Like leaving Neela and your parents here, and returning to Earth without them?” I suggest.
“That’s a good idea, but no…” He runs a finger along his chin, humming the wedding march.
I roll my eyes. “Marriage isn’t going to magically solve all our problems, Hayden.”
“I know, but at least you’ll be legally bound to stick around until we can go into couple’s therapy.”
I laugh. “We aren’t even married yet and we’re already in need of counseling.”
The tangy scent of spicy food streams from the kitchen doorway. Several tables over, a cute Zeta baby in a stroller furiously waves his little arms and legs like a capsized beetle.
The waiter clears away our empty plates and returns with more slug juice and the ploymanti fruit pie. I take a bite of the crazy sweet dessert, although I have no idea what it is—except it must contain a pound of nectar—and glance up.
All the oxygen sucks from the room. Hayden’s parents and Delta enter the restaurant. Mrs. Lancaster strolls through the room, her high-heels clacking across the stone floor. My trendy outfit resembles a thrift store-find compared to her sophisticated, designer all-white outfit: silk blouse and rayon slacks, with gold necklaces and bangle bracelets. Next to her Mr. Lancaster wears tan chinos, boat shoes, and a green, long-sleeved oxford.
Hayden slouches in his seat. “Let’s ignore my parents. Maybe they won’t see us.”
“Good plan.” Leaning across the table, I kiss him and everything else vanishes.
He smiles. “Claiming your territory?”
“Hmmm, something like that.”
I cast a sidelong glance in the Lancasters direction, and Mrs. Lancaster’s eyes narrow. Turning away, I take a sip of my blue milky drink.
Footsteps thud behind us. “Good evening, Hayden.”
I grab my napkin, wipe my chin, and then twist to face Hayden’s family. “Oh, um, hello, Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster.”
Delta peeks out from behind her parents. Her dark green mane is tucked behind her tiny ears, her smile warped, like a diabolical cherub. “Greetings, shalinaya,” she says, in her slightly nasal voice. “You like to eat.”
“Uh, yeah,” I say, fiddling with my napkin and glancing at Hayden. “Hi, Delta.”
“You again,” Mrs. Lancaster says with a snort.
Is she talking to me? I clutch the napkin tighter in my sweaty hand. My head turns to glance over my shoulder. Mrs. Lancaster crosses her arms, those bangle bracelets clanking together. My cheeks go red and my insides feel twisty. I glance at my chest to check if there’s a trail of fruity sauce staining my dress. But no, I haven’t spilled anything on myself.
Hayden leans forward. “Mother, you remember Sloane Masterson, the girl you met at the cottage?”
I smile at her. My limbs are twitchy, and I squirm in my chair.
“Oh, yes. How could I forget?” She flicks a glance at me. “Enjoying your stay on Reticuli?” she asks through her teeth.
“Yes, it’s, uh—so beautiful,” I say. “Are you, um, liking your vacation?”
So much for being composed or speaking in complete sentences.
“Absolutely,” Mrs. Lancaster says in a Queen Bee-ish drawl, lifting a hand to fluff her hair. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I-I don’t know,” I stutter, twisting the napkin. “Everything here is so, so different from home, even the strange food. A lot to get used to…”
Mr. Lancaster sniffs, looking down his nose at us. “I see you are stilling going out with the shalinaya. In public. Without any regards to poor Neela’s feelings.”
Cue the major eye roll. I detect an accusation in his tone directed solely at me—as in “you ruined Neela’s only chance at happiness and now you have the nerve to date our son.”
“She has a name, Father,” Hayden says. “It’s Sloane, so please learn to use it.”
“I remember when I first met your mother,” Mr. Lancaster says gazing at me, and I cringe at his stoic expression and intimidating eye contact. “But I followed the rules of our clan with the proper etiquette.”
He means it’s a faux pas for Hayden to be dating a shalinaya, who’s not even a pureblood.
Hayden shifts in his seat. “Uh, Father, I don’t think you need to tell—”
“We had just finished college,” Mr. Lancaster continues. “I was already employed at the firm, and Moya was interning at the local lab. One night I was working late and got into the elevator with a beautiful woman. I had to ask my parent’s permission to court her. Two years later, I asked her to marry me.”
“And we didn’t even have sex until our honeymoon,” Mrs. Lancaster stresses. Her stare hardens, and I sense the hatred oozing from her pores like lava—thick, hot, and burning.
The paper napkin rips into shreds. I drop it on the seat beside me and give them both the most sarcastic double-thumbs-up I can muster. “Wow. Very romantic.”
“So, do you find unattainable men attractive?” Mrs. Lancaster asks me.
“Una—what?” I say, my tongue tripping over the words. Uneasiness gnaws at my insides. “I-I’m not sure what you mean.”
Smooth, Sloane. Real smooth.
“My son,” she clarifies. “He’s engaged to another woman, therefore unattainable, wouldn’t you say?”
“Knock it off,” Hayden says, his cheeks tinging pink.
“This is about protecting you, son,” Mr. Lancaster replies.
Mrs. Lancaster shoulders her husband aside. “It’s about protecting all of us. Even…her.”
“Mother,” Hayden warns. “Could we not do this now?”
“Then when would be a good time?” Mr. Lancaster asks. “Why isn’t it permissible to talk about? Are we not permitted to speak of your engagement in front of your friend here?”
“Father, please.” Hayden grits
his teeth, the metal spoon in his hand bends at an odd angle. “Sloane knows all about Neela and my former engagement.”
Mrs. Lancaster’s head jerks back, wincing. “I wonder if we’re permitted to even visit the subject.”
“Perhaps if we disguise ourselves,” Mr. Lancaster says. “Wigs and glasses should do the trick.”
“This is ridiculous,” Hayden says, rolling his eyes.
“Perhaps we should make a list. What else we’re not allowed to discuss in front of this girl,” Mrs. Lancaster says.
A slow and tense silence descends. My heartrate doubles its average beats. I wish this cavern-restaurant had a cliff I could jump off and plunge to my death.
The waiter approaches the table. “Would you like anything else, sir?”
“Just the check, please,” Hayden replies, then says to his family, “I’d ask you to join us, but we’ve already eaten, and its Sloane’s birthday. We’re celebrating. Just the two of us.”
“Birthday?” Mr. Lancaster’s eyebrows knit together. “How old are you?”
My ears burn. “I-I’m eighteen. Legal age. An adult.”
“Well, we wouldn’t want to intrude,” Mrs. Lancaster says, “on your date. You two look very…comfortable together.”
Hayden pulls out several red rocks from his pocket. “You can get better acquainted another time.”
“Our table’s ready, anyway.” Mr. Lancaster places a hand on his wife’s back and ushers her across the room.
“It was nice to see you again,” I say, but I’m talking to their backs.
Delta follows behind her parents with slow jaunty steps. Mrs. Lancaster’s stride appears fast and determined, but she moves stiffly, as if resolute not to let on that those tight heels hurt her feet.
The instant the Lancasters are gone, all the blood that has left my brain floods back. Any hope I had of sounding confident and charming—hell, of sounding normal—disappeared in that awkward as hell conversation. Hayden’s parents think I’m a big-unworthy loser, and right now, it feels like they might be right. Is it so wrong that I just want them to like me?
Yup, I’m needy and pathetic.
“Well, that was moderately intense.” Hayden gulps the rest of his drink and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “You okay? You’re look sorta green.”
