My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

35. Perfectly Good Banana Cream Pie Sacrificed for Comedy

The transition from the surreal palm tree-lined yellow sidewalk into what appeared to be a decades-old small town was so abrupt, Andie's head swam with vertigo. She swayed and gripped Oliver's arm to keep from falling.

Oliver gathered her into an embrace. "Are you all right?"

"Mmmmm," she said, pressing her face into his cinnamon chest, trying to match her breaths to the slow, even pace of his alien heart. "Just need a second."

He stroked her hair and pressed his lips on the top of her head. "Not that I am all that concerned," he said, and she could feel the corners of his mouth turn upward, "but are you going to throw up on me again?"

Holding Oliver's hands for balance, Andie took a step back and managed a faint smile. "How terribly ungallant of you to ask, but I suppose it is not a completely unreasonable question. If I had anything in my stomach, I might. I don't know what's gotten into me." She rubbed her temples with her fingertips. "We should probably keep moving if we're going to avoid being seen."

"There are cameras everywhere. Even the trees talk. We could take the back alleys where there are no cameras, but it will take much longer." Andie's legs felt boneless and wobbly, but she managed to stay vertical. "Maybe I should carry you. Andie? Andie? Are you in there? Why do you keep disappearing into your own thoughts?"

She ignored him, because god he was sexy when he got all Edward Cullen overprotective. Although truthfully, he was always sexy, not just when he was overly concerned about her well-being. He was also sexy when he was annoying, masterfully flying a spaceship, jealous of Chris Pine, sleeping, breathing, and wreaking havoc on the English language.

The heady, fragrant smell of jasmine filled the air, sending Andie's senses into overdrive. Maybe even warp drive. Her stomach calmed, and a euphoria settled over her like an invisible cloak, rippling down from her head, over her shoulders, all the way to her feet.

She had to kiss him.

Immediately.

"Carrying me isn't exactly what I want at the moment." She pulled him into the shade of an elm tree—well, it looked like an elm, except for the bright purple leaves and bubbles in place of flowers. These weird purple bubble elms lined the street like soldiers, evenly spaced and erect, all the way down the road.

"What are you doing?" Oliver said, as she pushed him against the tree trunk and pressed the length of her body against his, savoring each point of contact.

"I would think it's obvious," Andie said. Standing on tiptoes, she kissed him soundly. At first, he pulled away, lifted his head, and scanned the sky. He must have been worried about those stupid jellyfish drones again. "The drones are gone," she reminded him, wrapping her hands around the back of his head and nuzzling his ear. "Kiss me, or I might die."

"When you put it like that ..." He bent down and kissed her, raking his fingers through her hair. They settled into the rhythm of tongues and lips and blue sparky energy. When his "love beam" grew to a state that was hard to ignore, pressing as it was into her nether-regions, he emitted a low growl. Andie decided to take him right there.

A sharp zap of blue energy flashed between their mouths. "Ouch!" Andie leapt back, hand flying to her stinging lip. "Why did you do that?" Andie said, now quite sober.

Oliver rubbed his mouth. "I would never disrupt a kiss of that magnitude in such an ungentlemanly fashion."

"It was me," Bad Andie said. "And if you ever want to have hot alien sex again, I suggest you two get moving. I beg you to stay on task and complete the mission so I can get back to being the immature one. I'm finding responsibility to be a real bummer."