My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

51. Outlaws 50% Sexier Than Law-Abiding Citizens

Andie's heart hammered at warp speed. If this kept up, she'd have a coronary so intense it would jettison her body into outer space; space travel is cool, but only within the confines of a protective environment with stuff like oxygen and radiation shields and those little Star Trek food replicators where you can instantaneously get any food you want. Her stomach growled, "feed me," in a deep threatening tone, like the plant in Little Shop of Horrors.

Clearly, she was losing her mind.

Calm. Be calm. Breathe.

How could Oliver possibly think she loved Chris? The sheer insanity of the question made it impossible for Andie to process, let alone answer. Didn't he know she'd done everything in her power to protect him? That she would do anything to see him safe?

"How would he know when you NEVER. TELL. HIM. ANYTHING?" Andie could actually feel Bad Andie's furious eye roll.

"You're right."

"The whole 'I'm gonna save my man' scheme backfired," Bad Andie continued. "He was about to get a new brain!"

"I said you were right. This is not helping and not fair. I didn't know his father was a vicious mad scientist/sexist/racist piece of space garbage."

"You yourself admitted you overlooked some important evil facts about Emerson Lieder. Maybe I should've noticed too. But look. Oliver is here. He has his original brain. Hopefully, this means he has all his original 'parts.' Get it together, girl!"

Oliver held out his arms, palms pointed toward the heavens. "Andromeda, you are killing me here. If you love him, I wish you happiness. And I will not stand in your way." He scowled at the comatose movie star. "Who am I fooling?" Oliver said. "I will rip him limb from limb but feel slightly bad doing it if you love him. Still, it would be much more satisfying if you told me he was kissing you without consent, in which case I will not feel at all bad about separating his limbs from the rest of his body."

For Chris's well-being, Andie retrieved the white shirt and blanketed his carved, six-pack-laden torso.

Which she totally hadn't noticed.

"Oliver is so romantic," Bad Andie piped in.

"You think it's romantic that he wants to de-limb Chris?"

"Yes. In a warped, crude, caveman way. It's not every millennium you get to see a guy in a tight silver spacesuit acting like a lovesick troglodyte. And you have to admit, Chris was hitting on you."

"Just because Chris is inexplicably attracted to me is no reason to detach his limbs."

Oliver snapped his fingers in her face. Why were people always doing this to her? "Andromeda. Are you in there?"

"Uh ..." She tried to form words that would express to Oliver how she felt about him, but they dribbled out of her mouth like rejected baby formula.

Andie sputtered.

"Sorry, I did not understand that."

More sputtering.

Oliver dropped to his knees beside her. "What is your answer? In English, please. Or another actual language."

Peering up at her drenched, fuming alien through tear-stained lashes, Andie gently laid Chris's head on the floor. She stood, drawing Oliver up with her, and hugged him with such intensity he grunted. Still, she didn't loosen her hold for fear if she did, she'd lose him again. The thought of how close he had come to having his brain replaced, to never even remembering her, made her blood freeze.

Breathing his cinnamon scent, she nestled against him as close as physics allowed. And it still wasn't close enough. His heart was beating as fast as hers. She released her grip, mostly so he could resume breathing, and ran her hands up his muscular back. Andie fisted her hands in his wet hair, and finally kissed him, the vibration of his question hanging on his lips.