by Sherry Soule
“Nah. It’s just a sweet drink, like soda, that’s native to the Zetas,” Zach says.
Vi snuggles closer into his side with her legs across his thighs and her hand resting on his chest while Zach looks adoringly at her.
I still can’t wrap my brain around Viola being with Zach. It’s too weird. Like watching my dad flirting with the chick who takes our order at the Starbucks drive-through.
My gaze slides away from them and lands on Delta sitting in the corner with her hands folded in her lap. Jonah relaxes in a chair beside hers, reading a book, but occasionally lifting his head to say something to Delta. They’re close in age, which is probably why they’re hanging together.
Hayden leans against the kitchen counter, sipping a drink and chatting with Tanisha. He sets the glass on the counter and turns to a Meleah girl, who has placed her hand on his arm. Smiling at the alien stud, I inspect every inch of my boyfriend. His defined cheekbones. The curve of his muscular shoulders beneath his snug T-shirt. The slightly exposed skin on his brawny chest. Hayden turns, catching sight of me, and an uneven grin lifts the corners of his generous lips, causing the breath to stall in my lungs.
Standing, I cross the room, weaving my way past the various couples. As I approach, Hayden stands straighter, shrugging off the Meleah girl’s hand.
“Hey.” I flick a glance at the girl hovering around my boyfriend before saying to Hayden, “Want to get me a drink? I’m thirsty.”
“At your service.” Hayden goes into the kitchen to get me a beverage.
The girl wanders off to join some other Meleah girls who eye me enviously.
He returns and hands me a glass of blue liquid. “We should go someplace more private.”
“Definitely,” I say. “Lead the way.”
Hayden takes my free hand, his grip confident, and leads me outside to the patio. We recline on a doublewide lounge chair, overlooking the pool. The sky appears purplish black, blanketed with twinkling stars. Set against the dark turquoise of the water, it’s like something out of one of my mom’s surrealist paintings.
“How many Meleah girls at this party have you hooked up with?”
Hayden gives a short, incredulous laugh. “Now who sounds jealous?”
“Since you’re theoretically engaged to Neela, I have a right to be insecure,” I say. “Everyone knows about your marriage arrangement and it’s embarrassing to be known as the other woman.”
Hayden pushes himself onto his side. “The minute Neela gets here, I’ll tell her that I’m sorry, but I can’t marry someone I don’t love. That my heart belongs to a beautiful shalinaya named Sloane.” He grazes the inside of my arm with his fingertips. “There’s only one girl I want to kiss.”
“And only one boy for me.”
Hayden pulls me into his arms like a hero in a romance movie, causing my toes and fingers and thighs to tingle. His mouth hovers over mine, and the air leaves my lungs. My lashes flutter downward and I breathe through parted lips. When he kisses me, I lean my whole body into him. My pulse gallops under his gentle touch. I kiss him hard, sliding my arms around his neck. How I don’t explode into a puddle of swoony hormones is beyond the laws of physics. I press my body against his, and our clothes are becoming a barrier. His hand travels from my stomach northward, and I’m jolted back to reality. I slide away from him. The party, laughter, and music come skyrocketing in on me. Kissing is one thing in public, but anything else is too much PDA.
Hayden pulls away. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing,” I say, flipping onto my back. “Too public.”
Hayden’s fingertips trail along my forearm, sending heated shivers throughout my body. “Do you want to go inside to your room?” He inches closer, bringing his face to mine.
“Ah, no.” I giggle.
“You sure?” he whispers, kissing my neck.
I gently push him away. “I should end the party before my parents return.”
“Good idea.” He leans back and sighs. “I don’t want your family thinking I’m a bad influence on you.” Hayden takes my hand and pulls me off the lounge in one swift motion.
We walk inside, and find everyone gathered near the front door. The only people who don’t appear to have any interest in what’s happening are Viola and Zach snuggling on the sofa. Even Delta and Jonah are gaping at the pair.
“It’s good to see you, too! I’m sorry we’re late,” Neela says. “My brother took forever to pick out a shirt.” She grins like a sly fox working at a chicken farm. “But we’re here now!”
My chest constricts as Neela and her silent brother, Rost, make their way out of the crowd and into the open. Neela’s bouncy waves grace her jawline, the short strands pushed off her forehead with a thin red headband. She’s wearing a burgundy spaghetti-strap dress, with a dozen chunky necklaces, and strappy high-heels. Neela resembles an extra on Pretty Little Liars while I feel more like a ‘before shot’ on My Six-Hundred Pound Life.
Rost tugs at the collar of his polo shirt over pleated shorts, with glaring white tennis shoes. The crow’s feet around his eyes indicate he’s in his early twenties. Standing beside his vivacious sister, he looks like her bodyguard.
“Is everyone enjoying their time on Reticuli?” Neela lifts her arm to wave at the partygoers, causing several gold bangles to slide to her elbow. “Aren’t the Zetas the best?”
The crowd cheers with approval. Neela turns her head and her gaze falls on Hayden. She claps and squeals. “There’s my future husband!”
Hayden releases my hand and Neela sprints across the room. I’m so surprised I stumble backward.
Hayden holds out his hands, waving them to halt Neela. “Whoa there!”
She stops in front of him, frowning up into his face. Neela is short, like way under five feet of petite cuteness. This close to her pixiness, I feel like a mega-breasted, big-eyed blob. Rost moseys over, his hands clasped in front of him.
“I missed you on the flight over,” Neela says, staring up at him with sad eyes. “Is it true? Have you decided to call off our engagement for a shalinaya?”
Can anyone say awkward?
Hayden clears his throat and takes Neela’s hand. “Let’s talk in private.”
He walks her through the patio doors to stand near the pool. Rost follows them outside, but stands a polite distance away. He gazes at the scenery, not looking left or right. I’m not even sure he blinks. All the guy needs is one of those black, fluffy, oversized helmets like the British Queen’s Guards wear. Well, hell. If he’s gonna listen in, so am I.
Moving closer to the open door, I stand within eavesdropping range. Everyone else goes back to partying and dancing. Jonah lifts his book and Delta wears a wobbly smile.
“Why do you look so unhappy, Hayden?” Neela bats her eyelashes. She’s either got something in her eye or she’s trying to flirt, I’m not sure which.
“I never meant to hurt you or your family.” Hayden’s gaze flicks to Rost, who doesn’t show any emotion.
“I came here to talk. Not end things,” Neela whines, then stomps her foot like a spoiled five-year-old. “I want a spring wedding! I already bought a dress.”
“I’m sorry, but you deserve to be with someone who can make you happy.” He rubs her arm, then drops his hand. “I hope we can be friends, and you should stop humiliating yourself like this. I’m in love with someone else.”
My heart pinches for Neela. Breakups are icky and no one likes to admit their relationship is heading to the doghouse, but there’s no point in chasing a guy who clearly doesn’t want you. She needed to know it was time to call it quits.
Neela takes a step back, her bottom lip trembling. “Is this because of what Daddy did? He had a momentary loss of judgment and he’s been imprisoned for his crimes.”
“No.” Hayden slips both hands into his pockets. “Like I said, I am in love with Sloane. I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”
Neela whirls, squinting through the glass door and searching the living room f
or someone. Her teary gaze locks onto mine and she breathes through her mouth, her cheeks puffing. “You! This is all your fault.”
She stomps inside the house, and Rost shadows her like an obedient watchdog. Her heels click-clack on the floor like gunshots as she stamps closer. The partygoers fall silent. Neela stops so close to me that I can see the blackheads on her upturned nose.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you, how does it feel to be called Cyclone Sloane?” Neela asks.
Cyclone Sloane sounds like the title of a bad B-movie.
“What’re you talking about?” I ask.
“People call you Cyclone Sloane because you ruin the lives of everyone you meet,” Neela says. “Shattered relationships, broken hearts, and even families torn apart. All because of you.”
The accusation digs into my heart like a sharp-edged shovel. My stomach heaves and I peer at the others, who turn away. Except Viola and Zach. They hold my gaze, and Vi shakes her head. Is this what the others are saying behind my back? Do the Meleah think I intentionally hurt people? Every inch of my skin vibrates with denial, but I’m so shocked, I don’t know how to respond or defend myself.
Perhaps because it feels…true.
“I know what happened to Tama,” Neela continues, her voice rising in pitch. “You’re a walking disaster. A disease that infects everyone—”
“I’m pretty sure Satan just upgraded you to a cozy suite in Hell,” I snap finding my voice. “Now get out of my house!”
“Oh, I’m going all right. Before you do anymore damage.” Her screechy high-pitched voice might scare the neighbors, and it snuffs out any thoughts of feeling sorry for her now.
“Neela,” Hayden says sharply from behind her. “Don’t say another word. Sloane asked you to leave, so please just go.”
“Drop dead, Hayden Lancaster.” She whirls on him. “And good luck with Cyclone Sloane. She’ll find a way to ruin your life, too!”
FRIGHT NIGHT BABBLE
Greetings, Fellow Horrorphilas!
These tropes make me wanna kick over a headstone. Sometimes I wonder what the heck these movie writers are thinking.
Even in a gun-toting-crazy America, most people actually know very little about guns, so Hollywood should do more fact-checking before penning a script.
Like when a character shoots the villain once instead of emptying the clip. C’mon, everyone knows you double-tap. So dumb!
And then they leave the weapon next to the body. Seriously?
People in horror movies that carry guns consider ammunition optional. Ugh.
Survivors who walk over the villain’s body and get their ankle grabbed. Is there no other way out of the room except stepping over the body? *Eye roll*
Start being more creative, filmmakers.
Peace, love, and horror flicks,
Sloane
SEVENTEEN
The next morning I wake up with my heart sprinting. For a moment, my vision blurs at the unfamiliar surroundings. Then I sit up, spotting the ocean outside my bedroom windows and remember I’m visiting Reticuli with my family and friends. No Sector Thirteen or scary mutants.
Lying in bed, I listen hard, the house quiet. No early risers in the Masterson household and Viola has never been a morning person. The sky grows brighter, the night surrendering to the dual suns awakening.
There’s no way I’m going back to sleep now. I flop against the pillow, thinking about Nasty Neela. The way she stared at Hayden with those sad, puppy-dog eyes and called me Cyclone Sloane makes me want to hurl. About five minutes after the big scene with Neela at the party, I told everyone to go home and went straight to my room.
My head hurts and I rub my temple. My love life keeps reaching even higher levels of suckage. Now I’ve got another ex-girlfriend of Hayden’s to content with. I’ll spend the rest of my vacation waiting for Neela to come after us welding an axe and screaming, “If I can’t have Hayden, no one can!”
A strange buzzer echoes throughout the house and I pull on my robe to investigate. I across the living room, following the buzzing noise to the front door. Turning the knob, I open it crack and peer outside.
“Hey,” Hayden says. “I’m taking you to breakfast. Get your cute butt dressed. I’ll wait here.”
I give him a mock salute, then dash to my bedroom and into the adjoining bathroom to brush my teeth and hair. Next, I throw on a black top with tights over a frilly mini-skirt and boots. I leave my hair down in soft waves, and apply a thick swipe of black eyeliner and lots of mascara. When I return to the front door, Hayden paces on the porch.
“Ready?” He grabs my hand, pulling me down the street.
Similar domed-shaped homes line my neighborhood and strange, neon plants adorn the front of each dwelling. Zeta world has lush, tropical rainforests and the foliage is a rainbow of dazzling colors. Hayden points out different things and places, while I try not to stare at the Zetas walking past, but it’s hard not to. Each one has a ready smile for us. If only Earthlings could learn to live in harmony like the Zetas. This place truly is a utopian society.
“Excuse me, but which way is the Binary Bistro?” a passing Meleah boy asks.
I look around, then point at myself. “You asking me?”
“Yes, I’m lost. Do you know where it is?”
“Yeah.” I point at the path behind us. “Um, I think it’s that way.”
“Much obligated.” The Meleah boy gets on the conveyor-belt sidewalk and rides away.
I smile at Hayden. “Did you see that? I got asked for directions.”
“I witnessed the whole thing go down.”
“He thought I was a Zeta native. That’s so awesome.”
“Yes, very exciting. Except, the café is in the opposite direction.”
“Oops.” I giggle, my cheeks burning.
After turning a corner, we enter what appears to be an outdoor café. Several tables are occupied with Zetas and Meleah. The restaurant is bursting with delicious smells, salty and sugary, smoky and zesty. A humanoid-like robot steps forward and greets us, carrying two goblets filled with water.
“Good morning.” The artificial intelligent android places two glasses on the table. “Would you like to order the usual today, Hayden Lancaster?”
“Yes, please.” Hayden drags a hand through his hair to get the strands out of his eyes. “But add fried Hudavian mushroom puffs with a side of rancor strips.”
I lean across the table. “Strips?”
The waiter nods and Hayden laughs. My face flushes red.
“They are similar to pork from your home planet,” the android waiter explains.
“It tastes like bacon,” Hayden says. “You’ll love it.”
“We do have livestock, like chickens and cows, along with fruits and vegetables from Earth,” the android says. “The Zetas gather them during their brief visits to have readily available for the Meleah.”
“That makes sense. Can I have pancakes and bacon, please?” I say. “Wait, can you make pancakes?”
The android waiter shakes his head. “No pan…cakes. Perhaps you will enjoy odanian foam-loaves. I will return shortly with your order.”
“Don’t worry, everything tastes great,” Hayden says.
“So long as the Zetas aren’t into Soylent Green, I’ll try anything.”
He stares at me for a long moment, then smiles.
“What? Have I got dirt on my face? Or snakes for hair?”
“No. It’s just you’re so pretty, sometimes it’s hard to make eye contact with you.” This time his face tinges pink. “It’s like staring too long at the sun.”
Just so he won’t go blind, I bat my eyelashes at him. I’m considerate like that.
Hayden peers over my shoulder and grimaces. He tugs on my hand and jerks his head to the left. I twist in my seat and spot Mrs. Voorhees and her crabby daughter striding out to the patio. Mrs. Voorhees nearly snags her gold heel in her long flowered dress when she slams on the brakes to glare at me. Her gaze narrows to tiny slits
as she focuses on our handholding.
Beside her, Neela wears a glaringly bright outfit: a mid-thigh, neon orange sundress with flip-flops, her short waves cupping her jawline. I smile sweetly at them and squeeze Hayden’s hand.
“Hayden! Sloane!” Zach greets us with a wave, walking across the restaurant with Delta.
Friendly people. Thank the gods.
Delta stays close to her brother, who stands a foot taller than her, and fidgets with the lace collar of her fifties-style dress. I grin at her, but Delta only stares unblinking.
Hayden smiles at his siblings. “Hey. You guys just finish eating?”
“Yup. Did you order the rancor strips? So good,” Zach says, patting his belly. “Where’s Vi? She up yet?”
“No.” I force my gaze from Delta to glance past Zach at Neela and her snotty momma. “She’s a late sleeper.”
Mrs. Voorhees approaches our table. “Why don’t you join us for breakfast, Hayden, and bring your family.”
As in, Delta, Hayden, and Zach. Minus Sloane.
No one responds. Zach glances at Neela, who gives him a flirty wink that’s vomit-inducing. Neela slips between her mother and Zach, pushing Delta aside.
“We’ve already ordered, but thanks anyway,” I say, retaining the fake smile on my lips.
“You’re not worthy of the Lancasters and everyone seems to know it except you,” Neela sys, stabbing me with her brutal stare. “Cleopatra, queen of denial…”
Damn. Neela is starting to make Regina George of Mean Girls seem like a sweet fluffy bunny.
“And here, I thought my nickname was Cyclone Sloane,” I mutter, giving her my best stink eye.
Even though, I’m acting indifferent to her insults, my insides tremble. Since the day Hayden’s mom caught us almost getting our freak on, I’ve been struggling with feeling unworthy of Hayden, and every time someone points out how unsuitable we are together, it feels like the deck is completely stacked against me.
Hayden fiddles with his napkin. “We appreciate the offer, but maybe another time.”
“We’ll see you later then, Hayden,” Mrs. Voorhees says. “Tell your parents to come by for dinner this week. We have Galactic Brotherhood policies to discuss.”