Page 24 of How My Fake Alien Boyfriend Learned to Cook and Saved the Family Business

“The lesson is: Don’t sneak up on me in the kitchen. I’m jumpy.”

Don’t sneak up on her in the kitchen. I could definitely do that. “Yes, chef,” I said, nodding seriously.

She sighed. “You really don’t have to call me that, Kal—no matter what my cousin told you. Lola is fine.”

“Lola,” I repeated, letting the feel of the name fill my mouth, warm and sweet. “Yes, Lola. And I am sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“I know,” Lola said, her lips curving into a smile.

My gaze lingered, and I watched as color spread across Lola’s cheeks. Pink, like her hair. And just as lovely.

As I stared—because there was no other word for it but stared—Lola’s smile dropped.

“What’s this?”

Lola’s eyebrows pinched together, and she moved closer, hand raised. I felt her brush against my shoulder, so gently, before holding a leaf between us. Her eyebrows pulled closer as she studied it, then circled me. “You’re covered in grass and leaves,” she said.

Lola rounded on me, leaf still pinched between thumb and forefinger. “Did—did you sleep outside last night?”

I heard the dry click of my throat as I swallowed. My shoulders tensed. I’d slept outside because I didn’t have a choice. I thought it was the best option to avoid exposing myself as not of this world. But could that choice I made for survival be the very thing that got me caught? Had I given myself away already?

When I didn’t respond, instead staring at Lola dumbly, her lips twisted. Considering me.

“Kal, I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to answer me honestly.”

Lola wanted me to be honest, but I couldn’t guarantee that. Not if the next question would put me in danger. Or worse—her. Humans, I’d learned, didn’t always handle discovering the existence of alien life very well.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” Lola asked.

My vision went fuzzy, and my fingers curled against my thigh. Breathe, I reminded myself. Keep breathing.

I shook my head. A silent no.

Lola tapped a finger to her chin, contemplating what to ask next. I was anticipating the worst when she opened her mouth again.

Are you an alien from another planet? Are you an imposter? Are you a mistake?

“Are you in trouble with the law?”

I thought about this for a second. Technically, I might have been in trouble with the law on Xaerea. But not with any human laws.

I shook my head no.

Another finger tap told me Lola had another question. “Do you have a place to sleep at night?” she asked.

I was ready to reply, yes, of course, but then she clarified: “I mean, a place that isn’t outdoors?”

Ah. In that case…

“No.”

Lola stared at me, silence hanging between us, a veil of things left unsaid. A persistent beep from the oven broke her attention. She turned on her heel, stuffing her hands into thick mitts.

“There’s a couch in the office. You can sleep there tonight if you want.” Then Lola called over her shoulder, “Now come on and help me with these cinnamon rolls.”

Lola

When Grandma Gladys opened Southern Charm, she hung up a sign at the front that declared her golden rules.