My Alien's Obsession (Draci Alien 1)

I look back at Ana. “Say it is aliens. Why would they be doing all of that? Aren’t aliens supposed to be big and scary? Why aren’t they trying to take over the world?”

“Juliet, I’m serious,” Giselle says, holding a hand out to stop Ana before she even starts. “Robbie treats you like crap but no matter what, you just keep taking him back. I just don’t understand it. You’re such a beautiful person and you deserve—”

“The future of our planet is in danger from an alien attack and all the two of you can talk about is Juliet’s dating life?” Ana sounds disgusted with us.

I reach over and take Ana’s hand. I can see how upset she is and it was a dick move to try to use her as a distraction. I know how deep she can get into her obsessions sometimes.

Giselle and I have had to mop up the pieces before. Ana had what was essentially a nervous breakdown after her first semester of college. She never left her dorm room, became obsessed with gaming, barely ate… It was bad.

“Can’t we just be happy that finally it looks like good news about the planet?” I ask gently, squeezing Ana’s hand. Optimism is usually Giselle’s schtick, but for Ana, I’ll give it a go. “We don’t have to worry about the future of the planet anymore. All we ever heard our whole lives was doom and gloom. What’s happening is a miracle. We should be celebrating.”

Ana looks conflicted. “So don’t look a gift horse in the mouth? Just go along with whatever they tell us?” Then she shakes her head. “But guys,” she leans in again, “what if I’m right?”

“I don’t know the future,” Giselle says, adding her hand on top of Ana’s and mine. “But I do know that whatever happens, we’ll be there right beside you every step of the way. Okay? Three Musketeers for life.”

Giselle raises her coffee and I lift my cup to clank hers. Finally, reluctantly, Ana raises her cup too. “Three Musketeers for life.”

We talk a little longer and then Ana and Giselle go to throw away their cups while I pull out my phone and check my texts. Ten missed phone calls from Robbie and four texts:

Robbie: babe, why aren’t you picking up my calls

Robbie: I know your screening me

Robbie: don’t be a bitch

Robbie: see you at home tonight. I love you, okay? Is that what you want me to say?

Playtime’s over. It’s like there’s a giant lead weight bearing down on my chest. Heavy. Immovable. Inescapable. Eventually, it’ll crush me. I shove my phone back into my pocket and turn to grab my purse.

Promptly knocking my coffee cup off the table with my elbow in the process. Shit.

I scramble to try to catch it but suddenly hands are there beside the table, snatching my coffee cup out of the air before it can hit the ground and shatter.

Big, strong, manly hands.

I glance up and our eyes lock again. It’s the big guy from earlier. He’s come to my rescue. But how? I look over my shoulder back to the table where he was sitting. Across the room.

He doesn’t say anything or offer any explanation, and that’s when I realize how very fucking rude I’m being.

“Oh my God, thank you. I’m such a klutz.” I try to laugh it off as I reach for the cup in his hands but his intent, piercing amber gaze never waivers as he hands the cup back to me.

For the briefest moment, his fingers graze mine and a shot of electricity bounces between us. He must feel it too because his eyes widen and I swear they flash even more bright gold for a moment.

I snatch the empty cup back to my chest. “Thanks.”

Still he doesn’t say anything, he just tilts his head curiously and licks his lips again like he did earlier. And just like earlier, I find it startlingly sensual.

As if he can sense my reaction, he leans in closer. I should pull back, but before I can, he does.

“I have seen you somewhere before,” he says. It’s a little startling to hear him talk, he had that tall dark and silent thing going on, and for another long moment I don’t say anything back.

“What?” I ask like an idiot. Idiot says what? Kill me now.

“I feel I have seen you somewhere before,” he repeats. “You are familiar to me.”

He has a strange accent, one I can’t pin down. It’s low and melodious and I can’t help smiling at him.

“Believe me,” I say, “if we’d met before, I would’ve remembered it.” Shit, does that sound like I’m flirting? Am I flirting? Immediately my cheeks go hot.

“Juliet!” Giselle calls from near the door. “Come on or we’ll be late to our mani/pedis!”

I still can’t take my eyes off the man in front of me. He’s gorgeous. Which is rare, for a guy so huge and ripped to also have a handsome face—where the hell did this guy come from?