Page 38 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

“After that, I will find you. You are not allowed to hide.”

She smirked.

“Trust me,” I said. “I’ve never been less hidden in my life.”

She smiled softly and peeled off toward one of the side rooms with Sira. I watched her go. Her spine straightened as her expression smoothed into something practiced and professional.

The private version of her slipped away, tucked behind the polished one as if it had never been there.

I’d seen what was underneath, though. Last night, sitting on the floor and bonding over Nebs. Laughing in pajamas with her makeup gone. Just her.

And now I couldn’t unsee it.

The gap between the two versions of her felt enormous, and I was maybe the only person in that corridor who knew it truly existed. I wondered if Yuki and Lyn had seen the real her—the easygoing, relaxed version of Zhari.

“Come on,” Lyn said, jerking her chin. “We’ll start with the important stuff.”

“Emergency procedures? Gravity protocols?”

Lyn let out a quick laugh and hooked her arm through mine.

“The kitchen,” she said, already steering me across the open deck.

“That’s totally the most important thing to see.” I giggled, trying to keep my cool.

Lyn was a rock star on the drums, and she was linking arms with me, Vada Lamoth.

Someone, pinch me.

The mess was buzzing when we walked in. Long tables lined up in rows, with a wall of dispensers quietly humming. Crates were stacked in an alcove nearby, their labels printed in Velan, English, and Orinian.

Yuki was already there, loading up a tray with way too much food.

“Lunch is the best meal on this bus,” Lyn announced, steering me toward the dispensers. “Dune does a rotating menu based on whatever system we’re nearest to. Today, we’ve got Velan staples.”

The dispenser wall lit up with options as we approached. I recognized Nebs on the list, but there were dozens of others—grain bowls with glowing seeds, steamed dumplings filled with something bright orange, flatbreads with a shimmering spread, and skewers of something that looked like roasted fruit but pulsed faintly with color.

“Wow, so many options. What’s good?” I asked.

“Everything,” Lyn said.

She punched in a code, and a tray slid out. It held a wide bowl of something thick and golden, with chunks of soft-looking vegetables floating in it, a side of bread-like food, and a cup of Nebs because apparently that was non-negotiable.

“Starlight Stew. Trust me.”

I punched in the same code as Lyn and added a couple of the glowing dumplings because they looked too interesting to pass up.

Yuki appeared at my elbow, his own tray stacked dangerously high.

“You got the dumplings,” he said, as if I’d passed a test. “Good choice. You never know what flavor you’re getting, which is kind of a nice surprise.”

He darted to a nearby crate and lifted the lid with the kind of reverence usually reserved for religious artifacts.

“Also—limited-edition Nova Crisp Chips. You’ve arrived on a blessed day.”

He pressed his hands together as if he were praying.

“So, this is Yuki,” Lyn said. “He’s on keys. Ignore the enthusiasm. It’s a medical condition.”