By Rachel Dib
“Agent Therrus, are you insinuating your cover has been compromised?”
I opened my mouth but swiftly shut it again. Is that what I’m trying to say?
The hologram of my Earthan Initiative contact lifted an impatient brow. Intergalactic calls were tricky as well as costly. When initiated, it was better to keep them “short and sweet” as humans said.
“I don’t think so,” I replied slowly. “She’s just been watching me… a lot.”
Daily, from 9:00 a.m. until her coffee order is filled to be exact. But I left that part out. Her attention was odd—most humans ignored me. Unless she could see through my holographic disguise, it had to be due to something else.
“So, your cover is intact? The human is merely staring?”
I nodded. “Yes, but—”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Please, only initiate contact in an emergency.”
My shoulders slumped as the hologram vanished, but I chose to think positively. At least I know it’s nothing to worry about.
Lifting my chin, I pushed open the storage closet door to find my shift leader, Angela, waiting on the other side. She glared at me, arms crossed.
I held up the bottle of vanilla syrup I’d told her we needed. “Found it.”
“Took you long enough.” She snatched it from my hand.
Clinging to the human adage that it’s hard to stay angry at a smiling face, I plastered on my brightest grin.
She narrowed her eyes. “Luke, are you okay?”
“Yes!”
“You’re acting… stranger than usual.”
How am I failing as a human this time? I tried a bigger smile. “How so?”
“You’re too happy.”
My smile faltered.
Her gaze flicked to the closet then back to me. “You were upset; weren’t you? You went in the closet to compose yourself.”
“No, I—”
“Was that girl staring at you again?”
I held up a finger. “She was staring, but I am not upset.”
Angela lifted a brow. “Uh-huh. What does she look like?”
“Petite with curly blonde hair framing a heart-shaped face. There’s a small mole just above her right cheekbone.” I touched the spot for emphasis. “A button nose, blue eyes, and an angular jaw.”
“That’s… very descriptive.” Angela chewed her lip. “Still don’t remember her. But don’t worry about it, okay? She probably just thinks you’re hot.” She headed back toward the counter.
Hot? I checked the gland measuring my internal temperature. Ninety-seven degrees Fahrenheit. A little low for a Civaran—but perfect by human standards.
“I don’t feel overheated.”
Angela snorted. “Hot as in attractive.”
“Oh.” A pang of nervousness twinged in my gut. Attraction was not something I’d considered. While I found her romantic interest flattering, relationships with humans were forbidden.
“Don’t look so freaked out.” Chuckling, Angela picked up a coffee cup and began filling the order. “You act like no one’s been interested in you before.”
Unsure what to say, I selected a cup labeled, “medium iced mocha,” and began preparing the drink.
“Wait, have you never been on a date?”
I searched my memory for why humans usually avoided relationships. “I’ve been focusing on my goals.”
“Okay,” she said suspiciously then glanced at my hands. Her face softened. “But, just so you know, lots of girls dig tall, muscular, bald guys. Even when they have six fingers. If you’re not sure, though, don’t do anything.”
I tilted my head. “What if she says something?”
“You accept or politely decline.”
Angela’s advice seemed sound, so I accepted it. Every morning, I smiled warmly while taking the young woman’s order, and she watched me surreptitiously until it was filled.
Then one day she wasn’t there. For some reason, her absence felt… jarring. I tried to maintain my happy demeanor—set on turning undercaffeinated humans’ frowns upside down—but my smiles didn’t have the desired effect. After multiple complaints about the “creepy barista,” Angela sent me home.
As I walked, I swallowed a lump of unease. She wasn’t the first customer to skip a day. Her presence shouldn’t matter. She was just someone to observe. A part of my mission.
Except I missed her.
Maybe I am compromised.
While I debated whether or not to contact command again, I saw her seated at a bus stop. She looked sad. Alone. I considered turning around, but when she looked up, I knew I couldn’t.
“Hi,” she said, uncertainty in her eyes as I approached.
“You skipped coffee today.”
“Yeah, I…” She averted her gaze. “Yesterday one of your co-workers told me to either ask you out or stop staring.” Her cheeks flushed. “I decided to stay away.”
I mentally cursed Angela. “Sorry that happened.”
“No. I’m sorry I gave that impression.”
I sank down beside her. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not, but thanks.” She sighed. “It’s just… Never mind. I’ll sound weird.”
I passed her an encouraging smile. “If it helps, I’m told on a daily basis I sound weird.”
She hesitated before releasing a slow breath. “Okay. You wouldn’t know it, but I was sick for a long time. I recently underwent an experimental procedure to fix my ailment. And it worked… but with a side effect.”
Instantly curious—human medicine greatly interested me—I straightened, waiting for her to continue.
“The doctor warned me people might have a harder time noticing me. And I thought, ‘Fine. People don’t want to notice me as a sick person either.’ But I was wrong. I may feel better, but even my family forgets about me sometimes.”
“That sounds hard.”
“It is.” She looked up. “But you actually saw me. You met my eye, remembered my order. It felt good. I guess I longed for more.”
I nodded. Her feelings made sense. More importantly, my smile and cheery disposition had helped her.
We stood as the bus came to a stop before us.
Before she could leave, I held out my hand. “I’m Luke James. I hope to see you tomorrow.”
Smiling, she accepted it. “I’m Sarah. And, I’d like that.”
Rate this story:
(0 votes, average: 0.00 out of 3)
You need to be a registered member to rate this.
Loading...ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tell us your thoughts!