Page 49 of How My Fake Alien Boyfriend Learned to Cook and Saved the Family Business

Foolproof Recipes for a Damn Good Home-Cooked Meal.

Foolproof. Ha.

Well, I was a fool, wasn’t I?

I wanted to see once and for all if Gladys was right. My first attempt all those days ago was a disaster, but that didn’t mean I had to give up trying to cook. I just needed to do it.

Without giving it another thought, I stepped out of my hu-suit, slipped the shoes onto my bare feet, and grabbed an apron. Then I stomped back into the kitchen where Lola was hovering over the deep fryer, red-faced, with her bad wrist hugged to her chest. Her face was twisted in discomfort, and I was angry that she was torturing herself.

I would put an end to it.

I found a bare stretch of counter and slapped the recipe book down, flipping through the pages until I found the one I was looking for. I traced the page with a finger and scanned the ingredients list. Got it.

Step one: gather the ingredients. I needed to find the flour.

I noticed Lola pause what she was doing, the kitchen falling quiet. I looked up to find her staring at me, mouth agape.

“You’re naked,” she said, letting her eyes travel across my bare shoulders and take in my restlessly twitching tentacles.

“I’m not,” I said. “I’m wearing my underthings. And this apron.” My hands smoothed the front of the apron as I attempted to project confidence.

“So…what are you doing in your underthings and that apron in my kitchen?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?”

Lola sank back on her heels and crossed her arms at me. “It looks like you’re about to get in my way, if I’m being honest.”

The statement stung, but I let it hang in the air between us. I could handle it. Besides, I was used to hearing much worse from people who knew me back on Xaerea. I was a screwup, sure, but I was never someone who just gave up when I knew I was doing the right thing.

If Lola didn’t want my help, too bad. I was offering it to her anyway. I wouldn’t let Lola push me away so she could keep hurting herself in the process.

“Good,” I said.

I pushed past her to search for the ingredients, trying to remember where she grabbed the things for her morning baking.

“What?”

“If you’re not going to stop cooking,” I grunted as I gathered what I needed with my tentacles, “then I’m going to learn how to cook, too.”

I surveyed my gathered ingredients and realized I’d forgotten the most important one. A tentacle snaked past Lola and pinched the bottle of cinnamon off a shelf. She gasped as my appendage brushed her cheek, and my skin grew hot from the warmth of hers.

“But…but why?” Lola said.

“Because everyone deserves a home-cooked meal. And if you’re not capable of making it, I need to learn how.” I tucked a piece of loose hair behind her ear. “And you need to learn how to accept help.”

Lola was quiet for a while after that. She watched as I fumbled in the kitchen, leaving a trail of messes in my wake. But she didn’t try to stop me, and I wasn’t planning on letting her even if she tried.

“It’s the restaurant,” Lola said eventually. “It’s not doing well. So I entered a contest that could win us a lot of money, but everything is going wrong.”

I nodded along as she spoke, and Lola continued.

“And…well. I’m not used to asking for help. Even when things go to shit.”

“I like helping,” I said simply. “Especially if it’s you.”

Lola

Especially if it’s you.