Chapter Six

It's apparent from the challenge in her eyes that I've misspoken. "Is this not your cabin?"

She sighs. "It is, but shack isn't…the connotation is rude."

I think for a moment. "Outdoor storage building?"

"Shed," she corrects.

"How is a storage building a better dwelling than a cabin?"

She opens her mouth, closes her eyes, and shakes her head."It's hard to explain."

The shed we've entered is much bigger than any room I've been given during my military service. It has a large sleeping platform in one corner, a large sink, and an alcove that might be bathing facilities. The floor is hard and unforgiving.

Araceli looks around and sighs for the third time in the last sixty seconds. "I really wish I still had the pull-out couch out here."

"If it will make you feel safer, I can complete my sleep cycle on the floor."

She makes a face. "The floor, no. No one should sleep on concrete, especially not someone as soft as you."

"Soft?"

"Uh, blob-like? You were able to ooze over to me and keep my feet in place."

"My people are amorphous, but that does not mean we are soft." I take her hand and pull her closer to me. She looks bewildered for a moment, almost about to protest when I release her hand and put it on my biceps. "See, I have many of the same body structures you do."

Her hand is warm and soft on my arm. It is a weird thing, being touched again after traveling so long on my own. Our eyes meet and she stares back at me for far longer than I'm used to. Her eyes are quieter than my people's. They are so brown, they could be black. She looks down at where her hand lies on my arm and steps back.

"Sorry," she mumbles, turning away. There are soft chairs in one corner of the room and a wider seat covered with pillows. She picks up pillows and brings them back to a sleeping platform in the opposite corner of the room.

I had no information prior to this on humans building nests to sleep in, but Araceli seems to do just that. She lays out the pillows of various shapes and sizes down the middle of the platform from the very top to the very bottom. She is particular about her structure. She reserves the largest pillows for the top and the smallest for the bottom.

"That," she says pointing to the left side of the platform, "Will be your side tonight. Don't think just because our hands decided we're mates that there's going to be anything other than sleeping going on. I'm going to go wash up and change into pajamas. Do you need something to sleep in?"

"No, my people sleep unclothed."

She shakes her head. "Not tonight they don't. The bottom half is covered at all times or you will be sleeping outside. Those are the rules."

I nod as she disappears into the tiny bathing alcove. The room is plain and, except for the pillows, without much color. There is a pile of clothing on one of the soft chairs, and a stack of physical books on a small table. When I flip through one, there are no printed words inside, just handwritten pages.

"Hey, stay out of my stuff. Those are private."

I turn to find her behind me, hands on her hips, her face still damp.

"You write in books? Are you writing your own books? Is this how books are produced here on Earth?"

She looks confused for a moment. "No, those are my journals. My therapist has me keep them to process things that have happened in the past."

"Journals?" The word does not translate, and I stumble to form it without the help of the translator.

"Diaries? A place to write one's thoughts?"

"A log?" I guess.

She nods. "Sure a log. It's supposed to help me deal with past trauma."

"Does it?"

She looks away. "It's time for bed. I'm scheduled to be at work first thing in the morning." She walks to the bed and pulls the blanket over her head."

"Can you turn out the light?"

I look around, not sure how to extinguish the light source. She sighs for the fifth time, throws back the blanket, and walks to the opposite wall. With the flip of a switch, we are thrust into near-pitch darkness. "I hope those glowing eyes mean you have night vision, " she says. The sleeping platform creaks as she lays back down.

"My eyesight is adequate for the lighting situation in this shed."

"Good," she says and turns to face the wall. All I can do is take the space next to her. Overall, my first night with my mate wasn't entirely lacking. She prepared food for me, I met the family animal companion without losing a hand, and her father seemed impressed that I was not a feline. Things can only improve from here.