Engaged to an Alien Pop Star
My boyfriend is levitating four inches above our bed, with a cloud of gold sparks floating around his head like a crown. This makes for a pretty normal morning, even with the soft snuffling and clicking noises he makes as he sleeps. And the crown is appropriate, since my boyfriend is an alien prince.
The alien prince in question, Griffin, floats back down to our bed with a yawn, stretching as he hits the blankets. He squirms around until he can slip under the blankets and wriggle closer to me. Despite sleeping uncovered, he’s toasty and warm, a sign of restorative sleep in his people. I return his embrace a bit too eagerly, my hands slipping under his nightshirt and causing him to gasp out loud. “Gods! Daisy, your hands are cold.”
“They’re not cold. They’re room temperature. But you feel nice and warm, so hold still.”
Griffin wriggles a bit more in feigned protest, but we soon settle into a comfortable position, arms and legs entwined.
“Are you excited to go back home?” Griffin asks, his voice husky with sleep as he leans up to nip at my earlobe with sharp teeth. His glowing blue eyes peer at me from under heavy lids and dark lashes, lashes that are unfairly longer than my own.
“If you keep biting my ear or looking at me like that, I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep. And yes. I’m very excited to go back to Earth.”
Wanda is his pet name for me, a word in his language that means, “Love without end.” Griffin knows very well what he does to me when he calls me that.
“Do these plans involve you miraculously making chocolate appear? I miss chocolate,” I say, in a teasing tone. “When we go back to Earth, I’m going to stock up on junk food. There’s only so much healthy gray goop a girl can eat before she starts to feel like a very deprived post-divorce Gwyneth Paltrow.”
“Chocolate? Don’t be daft, Daisy, I was referring to sex.”