Page 64 of I Fell for an Alien Popstar

“She upset you,” she said. It was more a statement than a question.

“Not… on purpose.” I crossed to the bed. “She showed me some things. Posts. Screenshots. Apparently, I have a supporting role in the fan forums now.”

I sat on the edge of the mattress as she rolled over to face me, folding her legs beneath her.

“Supporting role?” she repeated. “Do you have any lines?”

“Mostly, I stand near crates and look overwhelmed,” I said. “It’s a very nuanced performance.”

Her mouth twitched, but she didn’t laugh. One of her hands found mine instead.

“What did she say?” she asked.

“That I’m not a mistake,” I said. “That I’m a ‘stabilizing force,’ which is honestly the nicest thing anyone has ever called me. And that I’m also a risk. That the label is paying attention. That I need to stop standing where cameras can see us and giving the internet puzzle pieces.”

“She is not wrong,” Zhari said quietly. “About the cameras.”

“I know,” I said. “Hearing it out loud just… made something in my chest do this.”

I made a tight fist over my sternum.

“I keep expecting someone to tap me on the shoulder and tell me there’s been a mix-up. ‘Sorry, ma’am. It turns out you were meant to stay on Earth and process invoices. Please step off the tour bus.’”

Her fingers tightened around mine.

“No one is going to say that,” she said. “Not while I am here.”

“You can’t control what the label does,” I said.

“That is true,” she said. “But I can control who is allowed in my bed, in my space, and in my life. You are here because I want you here. Not because Sira approved. Not because some algorithm circled your face.”

“Sira sees you as variables and trend lines,” she went on. “She looks at you and sees a pattern. I look at you and see the girl who drew my hands for forty minutes straight in the mess and thought I did not notice.”

Heat rushed to my cheeks.

“That was a hand study,” I protested weakly.

“Well, you draw me beautifully.”

I dropped my gaze, blinking away the sting in my eyes.

“I don’t want to break anything,” I said. “Not the tour. Not your career. Not this.”

“You are not going to break me,” she said. “Many things have tried. Drivian Rain Storms. Bad contracts. Men who thought they owned my time. I am still here. You sleeping in my bed is not going to be the thing that finally takes me out.”

A startled laugh slipped out of me.

“When you put it like that…”

“I am not saying it will be easy,” she said. “There will be ugly comments. People who decide they do not like you on principle. People who feel entitled to me and think you have taken something from them.”

“Can’t wait,” I said dryly.

“But there will also be people who see you and think, ‘Oh. Someone like me can be loved by someone like her.’ That matters more than the first group.”

I looked up. Her gaze was steady, not trying to sweet-talk me out of my fear. Just holding it with me.

“Sira told me that if it gets too much, I have to tell her before I ghost,” I said. “That you’d figure something out.”