Jake Page 2

  I yank the door open now. "You have that on Eroscia?"

  "No." He shrugs. "I saw it on Household TV."

  "Ah." I recall that Eroscia gets our television channels and that many aliens come to earth with beliefs based on what they've watched. At least Jake picked up a useful tip. "I'll have to get some."

  He glances over my shoulder and asks, "May I see your painting?"

  I don't usually let people see my work in progress, but I don't want to upset Jake more so I say, "Sure." I move to let him in and quickly add, "It's not done yet." I walk over to where I have completed pieces leaning against the wall. "Here are some of my finished paintings, but they're not very good."

  Jake studies the canvas on my easel for a while. "I'm fascinated by the process. How do you know what to paint first?"

  "Oh. Um." I take a moment to formulate my thoughts. "I think of the image in layers. I use colors that convey an emotion." He frowns, so I say, "For example, red can mean powerful, headstrong or angry. So I might choose to make a woman's dress that color to show she's a known force in her world."

  "What do blue and green mean?"

  I think he's talking about the swirls of color I have on my canvas and I say, "Right now I'm painting a serene background like our ocean waters to show contentment."

  "It's going to be a happy picture."

  "Yes." I gaze at Jake and notice how his face is softer in real life than his profile showed. "I hope so anyway."

  He wanders over to the stack of my finished work and lifts the first one up. It's of a little girl in a tutu standing in front of a mirror. She's holding her hands above her head with a look of joy on her face. "This one is about dreams?" he asks.

  I nod when he turns my way. "Hope, and a world full of promise. She's imagining life the way she wants it to be."

  "I like it." He sets it down before he steps forward and holds out his hand to me. "Hannah. I am like the girl. I have been dreaming about a wonderful life on earth with you."

  "But you seemed angry earlier." I place my hand in his, and he squeezes my fingers. Warmth travels up my arm to my heart, and I'm surprised by it.

  "That wasn't anger." He tugs me close and wraps an arm around my waist. Now the heat travels to my core, and I tremble with desire for Jake as I stare into his eyes. "I was overcome with need for you."

  "Need?" I glance at his mouth and wonder if his lips are as soft as they look.

  "Physical attraction." Jake cups my cheek in his hand, and I can't help but let out a small noise of pleasure from his touch. He says, "I wanted to touch you." He leans down so that his mouth is inches from mine. "To kiss you."

  "Oh."

  Jake nips at my lower lip, and I lean into his firm body for more. Our kiss is sweet, even though passion is simmering in my veins. When he breaks away, he takes a deep breath and blows it out, making me think he wants more too. I smile up at him. Because we have chemistry, and like the little girl in my painting, I dare to hope Jake and I find love.

  Chapter 3

  After Jake finishes unpacking his things, we go into the kitchen. He walks over to the fridge. "Do you not eat?" asks Jake as the bright light of my refrigerator bounces off the sparkling clean, but nearly empty inside of the appliance.

  "Of course I eat." I hold up my cell phone. "That's the beauty of living in a city. If you're hungry whatever we want is only a phone call away."

  The fridge door closes behind Jake as he turns to look at me, and he scowls. "You have a complete kitchen and don't cook."

  "Goodness no. Not if I can help it." I recall his profile said he could cook though, and I ask, "You do?"

  He stiffens a bit as if he's insulted. "Did you not read about me?"

  "I did. And—" I catch myself before I offend him more. "I didn't think you could cook on Eroscia. Tell me how you did."

  Jake relaxes his shoulders as he smiles. "You're correct in thinking we don't make our meals, but I created a simulator."

  I flash to an image of him in virtual reality goggles. He looks proud, and I think he wants to show off. "What would you like to make? We can go to the grocery store and get what we need."

  Jake's face lights up. "A grocery store?"

  I chuckle at his excitement. "When we're done we can go to a liquor store and pick out wine too." I recall the warning about aliens and their lack of tolerance for alcohol. "Oh. I suppose that's not a good idea."

  "Do you like wine?" Jake winks at me. "Because I've heard that can be a very good thing."

  I imagine he may have watched a few romance movies before I say, "I do." I tilt my head at him as I wonder how one drink might affect an alien and ask, "But I think it's best if we stick to only one glass for you."

  His grin gets big. "Lead the way."

  The supermarket is two blocks from my apartment. People move in groups along the sidewalk as cars whoosh by. Horns honk and a bicycle bell rings as a messenger passes by us. As we walk Jake glances around at the activity, wide-eyed. He notices me watching and says, "This is so much better in real life."

  I've read that Eroscia is mostly underground and utilitarian in nature. I try to see the city through Jake's eyes, and I imagine how amazing if must feel being able to smell and hear what he's only experienced through television. It makes me want to show him all my favorite places. "We'll have to spend the next few weeks touring all the sights."

  "I'd like that," he says as he stops in place at the entrance of the supermarket. He stares up at the large, lit-up sign in glowing red, and I think he might be a bit awestruck.

  My heart melts at his childlike wonder, and I take his hand. "C'mon." I pull out a cart, and the wheels rumble over tile as I push it behind Jake. He rushes over to the produce section. We get to a display of tomatoes and avocados, and he reaches forward tentatively. I say, "You can touch them. Go ahead."

  Jake lifts an avocado and gives it a squeeze. "This isn't ripe. It should yield to gentle pressure."

  I smile. "We can buy some and they'll ripen over the next few days if you want. What do you plan to make?"

  He drags his hand over the tomatoes before he moves over to the bin of fresh corn. "I don't know. There is so much here." He lifts up an ear of corn. "Silver Queen. This is a very good variety. Sweet." Jake is then distracted by the peppers. "Oh." He lets out a small moan. "So many choices. How am I to decide what to make tonight?"

  "Don't worry, you have the rest of your life to try it all."

  He darts his gaze to me and stares for an arrested moment, and the heat in his eyes is hotter than the habanero pepper he’s holding. He smiles slowly. "I hope so."

  I think about our kiss earlier and my insides melt a little as I smile back. It occurs to me that since we're in a coastal city, fresh fish could be a treat for Jake who is used to bland, processed meals. I ask, "Did you learn any seafood recipes? There is a wonderful fish market around the corner that's an experience all on its own."

  He nods at me. "I know what to make. It's the last thing I practiced before I left. Seared ahi tuna, with jasmine rice and wasabi mashed potatoes."

  I step over and grab a potato to toss at him. "That sounds delicious." It slaps into Jake's hand as he catches it, and I spy fresh local strawberries. I grab one and pop it in my mouth. Sweet juice explodes on my tongue as I bite. "Hmmm." I take a berry and hold it out toward Jake. "You have to try these."

  He looks at me in horror and instead of reaching for the fruit I offer, he grabs my jaw like I’m a dog who stole a steak and pries the berry from my mouth. "That's stealing."

  “Ouch.” I rub my jaw. Oh boy. I'm not sure I can explain the nuance of what I did. He’s staring at the saliva-covered, squashed strawberry in his hand, and I bet he’s slightly horrified by the germs. I pluck it out of his fingers to pop it in my mouth before I reach for the pint container. "Not if we're buying them. Try one."

  He gives me a skeptical look but takes a strawberry from the box, and I watch his face as he experiences the flavor. His eyes flutter shut, and I ask, "
Amazing, right?"

  He reaches over and takes another to inspect it. "What a delightful thing," he says before he bites into it. I chuckle as I grab another pint.

  We walk slowly down all the aisles, and he spouts off information about items as if I've never seen them before. It's like having a kid in a toy store, and I soak up the joy my alien exudes. As we shop for dinner, I decide to stock up on snack food too. A bag rustles as I grab chips, and Jake stops walking. He takes in all the varieties of salty snacks before us and frowns. He grabs my chips out of the cart and flips the bag over to read the back. "There is nothing healthy in these. Why would you eat them?"

  I snatch the bag back out of his hand. "Because they taste good."

  "Hannah," he says in a stern tone.

  I stiffen at his judgment and snap back, "Did you like the strawberry?"

  "Yes. But—"

  "I like chips the same way." I drop the bag into our cart and begin to walk away. Jake lets out a sigh, but I ignore him. I didn't sign up for a controlling partner and I'm tempted to say so, but I’ve committed to making our relationship work, and somehow I manage to keep my mouth shut. He does the same as I add a box of cookies and some ice cream to our cart, but his expression says what he's thinking. My skin crawls with his disapproving gaze, and I can’t believe I feel like I have to justify myself as if my father is looking at my report card, upset that I didn’t get straight A’s.

  We finish at the grocery store without revisiting the subject of my food choices, and my anger dissipates because I think I made my point clear. When I take Jake to the waterfront, any lingering irritation I had with him disappears as I watch him view the ocean with eyes full of childlike wonder. We walk to the end of a pier, and boats squeak against the buffers as they rub on the dock. Men shout while unloading a large fishing boat, and I explain to Jake how the fishermen come in and sell their catch to the market owners. I point out pleasure boats for comparison.

  Uneven wooden boards on the walkway creak under our feet as we move back toward the market entrance, and Jake tilts his head to the sky to inhale deeply. "What a curious smell."

  "Good or bad?" I ask.

  "It will always be good if I like fish. If not," he crinkles his nose, "Then it will continue to stink."

  I smile at him as I grab his hand and pull him inside the fish market. The whirl of fans is loud when we enter, and Jake glances down at the concrete floor and steps gingerly over a drain. A display case is before us, filled with shaved ice and piles of shellfish labeled with their names. The prices are written in wax pencil on the glass, and I get the attention of the woman behind the counter. "Jake is new in town. Do you think he could hold an oyster?"

  The aliens from Eroscia all have a green cast to their skin, making it obvious they're not from earth, and the older woman smiles at me as she hands him the shellfish. He rolls it over in his hand as the woman says, "Oysters are for a more discerning palate. You might want to start off with something like steamed clams or mussels."

  Jake asks, "What does an oyster taste like?"

  She lets out a moan of pleasure. "Like a sip of the ocean."

  He turns to me and raises his eyebrows, and I nod in agreement. Jake looks at the woman, "We'll take a dozen, but from which region do you suggest?"

  When the woman begins an explanation of the different oysters, I wander off to get a basket because it's clear we're getting far more than tuna here. I'm right, and on the walk home the two of us are loaded up with bags. Mine are heavy in my hands as Jake says, "Thank you, Hannah."

  "You're welcome. Shopping with you is fun." I bump his shoulder. "Besides, you're making me dinner. I like that."

  "Yes. After seeing your cupboards I know why." We walk in silence for a while before he says, "Do you realize a healthy diet will help you work smarter and live longer? Research shows as much."

  I had hoped the junk food I bought was a dead subject. "I've heard that, but I manage pretty well." He lets out a small huff as he scowls at me, and I give him a warning glare that stops him from speaking his mind. "We have something here on Earth we call free will. That means if I choose to eat something for taste, then I can."

  "What if affects others?"

  Oh boy. "How exactly does what I eat affect you? It's my body, which you do not get to rule. Got it?"

  Jake's nostrils flare, but he doesn't say anything as he lengthens his stride to pick up the pace. I move faster too, and the silence between us is heavy. After a few moments he speaks softly. "I don't mean to judge, Hannah. We don't eat the way you do here on Earth, and obesity isn't a problem on our planet." He quickly adds, "Not that I think you're fat." I give him a wry grin. I'm on the thin side, and weight has never been a problem for me. He says, "I plan to grow old with you. I want to do everything I can to make sure that happens."

  The warmth I felt when he first kissed me returns and I wonder if he's touching me the way I've heard aliens can do. It's a gesture of love, and it makes my anger subside because I believe he means what he said. "I know. But you need to trust that I’ve managed to stay alive all these years before you came along, and my eating habits are my responsibility."

  "Okay." He reaches over and lifts one of my bags out of my hand. "I won't tell you what to eat, but I'm going to make it my mission to fill you with healthy meals so you don't crave junk food instead."

  The edge of my anger dulls as I glance over at Jake. The fact that he wants to cook every day for me fills me with a warm glow. While it'll be a cold day in hell before he pries my beloved cheese puffs out of my hands for good, it's nice to have someone who cares. I smile and say, "Go right ahead."

  Chapter 4

  Jake had a lengthy conversation with the owner of the wine shop we stopped at on the way home, and we ended up with three bottles of wine, even though we’d agreed he shouldn’t have more than one glass. A sweet Muscadet splashes into my goblet, and I pour a small amount for Jake. An oyster shell clatters in the sink as he easily pries the shellfish open with his alien strength. He sets it on the platter of crushed ice and looks to me for my approval. I never would have gone to so much trouble for an appetizer that will take us only a couple minutes to eat, but I have to admit I like it. I say, "They look wonderful."

  Playfulness dances on his face. "Show me how you like to eat oysters."

  I move over to the bar chairs on the other side of the counter with him and take a seat. I glance down at the lemon wedges and cocktail sauce the woman at the market suggested, but I like mine plain so I say, "I think you should try one on its own before you add anything." I lift a shell and pour an oyster into my mouth. I chew a couple times and let the salty flavor sit on my tongue before I finally swallow it down. Jake mimics me, and I chuckle as he makes a face before he gulps it down. "What do you think?" I ask.

  "Food here is intense." He lifts up his glass of wine and takes a sip. "Ummm," he smacks his lips. "That's good afterward."

  I drink some wine too and notice the sweetness, which does complement the salty seafood flavor of the oyster. I never gave it much thought, and now I'm as curious as Jake to try the other combinations. I take a lemon and squeeze it onto an oyster as I say to him, "I feel like I'm trying them for the first time too. I don't think I've ever focused on flavors this much."

  Jake's hand lands on mine as I lift my shell and he takes it from me. My heart skips a beat when he lifts it to my lips and feeds me the oyster. His gaze sucks me in, and as I drink in the slippery mollusk, I lose myself in the warmth of his brown eyes that appear to swirl with their color. As I swallow, Jake places his fingers on my throat and drags them down it lightly, sending a shiver of desire through me.

  I lick my lips slowly as I reach for a lemon wedge to prepare an oyster for him. When I lift the shell up to feed him Jake doesn't break our gaze, and he chews slowly on the shellfish. My breath catches when he swallows, and he grabs my face to pull me in for a kiss. When he backs away he says, "That's a much better way to follow it than wine."

  As my
head swims with our passion I nod in agreement, and my hand is shaky as I reach for the cocktail sauce. After we feed each other another oyster, Jake follows it with a kiss like before. I've had boyfriends before, but something about being with Jake is different. His kiss does more than spark desire. I want to lose myself in him. It isn't long before I find myself straddling his lap, tugging at his shirt to strip it off. Jake grips my arms lightly as he breaks our kiss. He's panting when he says, "We have to stop before I go too far."

  My insides are quivering. I don't want to obey the rules set in place for us, but I manage to nod. His shoulder is firm under my hand as I brace myself and climb off his lap. "Right." Women aren’t allowed to sleep with their alien match until after marriage. I thought it was a stupid law until now, because I can see how easily one could get wrapped up in the physical and ignore everything else that's important in a lifelong relationship.

  I step around the counter to put it between us and reach for my wine. "Hannah." Jake takes my hand as he gazes into my eyes, and he places it over his heart. "I'm already falling for you. Please tell me you feel the same way."

  My pulse definitely quickens with my physical desire for him, and as I stare at the man before me I want to say the same. But I'm not so fast to give up my heart to a man who doesn't know who I really am yet. "I'm definitely attracted to you, Jake."

  "Then we're off to a good start."

  I smile at him, but my stomach is a tangled knot of dread. I fail at so many things, and I'm afraid this relationship will be one more thing on the list. I'm not ready to let him know that though, so I say, "We are."

  Jake and I finish off our appetizer, and he tells me to sit while he prepares dinner. A cutting board thuds on the counter as he says, "Your profile mentioned you want a family someday. Would you like to stay in the city to raise them?"

  "No." I get up and move over to the fridge to pour myself another glass of wine. "I grew up in a small town where everyone knew who I was. I love being in the city, but it's rather impersonal. I think I'd like to move when it's time for a family."