Chapter 27

Lily

I've created a monster.

When I planted myself across the coffee table from Ravok and explained the game of chess to him to the best of my ability, I had no idea what I was about to unleash. Using simple gestures and mimicking movements, I demonstrated how each piece moves and the game's objective. He focused on the carved wooden pieces so intently, a scowl etching lines across his face that screamed concentration, that I was almost taken aback.

I've barely finished winning our last match, and already Ravok is resetting his side, talking to himself in that low, growly voice. His brows are furrowed, and his eyes move around the board like he is visualizing his moves.

For the first time since our paths crossed, it feels as if we might have stumbled onto common ground. All my anxiety fades away as we delve into the world of chess.

I don't get to play often since I left for college. Marcus didn't like chess. He'd teased me relentlessly when he found out I'd been in the Chess Club in high school. When we first started dating, he'd humorously coined my hobbies ‘Lily's nerd shit'. By the time I'd finally left him, it hadn't felt like joking anymore.

Ravok's fascination with the game grows with every move. He's a shockingly quick study, and his moves gain precision as we play on. His approach turns from cautious to bold, each move revealing a layer of his personality. He's a conqueror, decisive and aggressive, in contrast to my slower, more cautious play. He's so competitive it's unreal. But at least he's not a sore loser. I can't stand those types.

We lose track of time, absorbed in this contest of wits. The fervor in Ravok's eyes would almost be amusing if each determined move didn't prove how serious he was about this game. I can't help but marvel at his intensity and find myself smiling despite everything. It feels strangely satisfying to share this moment. We might not be conversing per se, but something speaks volumes in our shared silence. It's an insight into Ravok's nature – a peek into the alien world of his mind.

I find myself cataloging Ravok's features as he studies the chessboard. Though Ravok's face is too alien, too harsh to ever be called warmly expressive, he's undoubtedly handsome. His dark pewter-like skin, glinting subtly under the scant lighting, covers thick slabs of muscles. He's got arms like Thor. There's a rugged handsomeness in the lines of his taut jaw and the high ridges of his cheekbones. However, his eyes intrigue me the most, luminescent as a cold moon, full of untold tales from galaxies I can only dream of. Over a single day, his stark alien appearance has become familiar and captivates me. I find myself irrevocably drawn to him.

I can't stop my grin when I see the look on his face as I take his knight. His thick brows drop so low I'd think he was angry if I didn't know better. I watch as he runs a canine back and forth along his lip, deep in thought. It's adorable how serious he is about chess. I'm just glad I found something to keep us occupied. It's not like we can have regular conversations, watch television, or even read a book.

Ravok makes his move and looks up, catching me grinning at him like a loon. Amusement flickers in his radiant eyes before he gives me a smile so full and wide that it transforms his alien countenance into something heart-stopping handsome. His grin makes my pulse pause in my veins before doubling in rhythm. My heart quivers in my chest, and my instincts war between the opposing urges to run and to throw myself at his feet. He looks like a predator, pleased with its victim, and my dumb lady parts throb in response. Maybe I like the thrill of danger more than I thought I did.

I realize I'm staring at Ravok with my mouth dropped open like a slack-jawed weirdo when his grin starts to slip. I snap my mouth closed so fast that my teeth click. I give him a small smile to reassure him that I'm a completely, totally normal person before turning my attention back to the board. I stare at the game as if it has all the answers to the universe, pretending I wasn't just lusting over my alien patient.

We play several more games, each becoming more challenging to win than the last. Finally, after a very intense match, I checkmate Ravok's king. I thought I was going to lose for a bit. I've been playing this game for years and Ravok's only played for a few hours. I wish we could talk because I bet he is really interesting.

Ravok grumbles as I give him a victorious grin, the chess pieces scattered haphazardly on the table between us. I can't help but chuckle at his deflated expression.

"Well, you came close this time," I reassure him.

My stomach decides to pipe up and embarrass me just then. A low, resonating growl that brings an involuntary flush to my cheeks.

"Leelee ungry?" Ravok inquires. Wow, he's already managed to pick up on a few words.

Embarrassed, I nod. "Yeah, I guess I am. Is Ravok hungry, too?"

When Ravok dips his chin, I push back from the table, leaving the scattered game behind. I wobble slightly after sitting hunched over the chessboard for hours. I can feel his gaze follow my every move.

"Leelee—" Ravok halts me mid-step with his words. I rush back to his side when I realize he's starting to stand. I try to lecture him to stay, but I know the look on his face and give up and help him to his feet. His towering figure stands, teetering for a moment due to his ankle injury. I wrap an arm around his waist. His skin is warm against mine, filling me with a strange sense of comfort.

Together, we shuffle our way into the kitchen. I release him, letting him lean against a nearby counter. I indicate I could bring him a chair, but he waves me away.

Scanning the fridge's contents, my lips pull into a slight smile. We have bread. We have ham. We have cheese. Perfect.

"Let's have grilled ham and cheese sandwiches," I announce, glancing back at him. His luminous eyes glint with curiosity.

Nodding, I retrieve the necessary ingredients and set to work. Ravok watches me intently as if memorizing what I'm doing. Once I get the sandwiches in the pan, I decide to make a salad to go with it.

As I grab the ingredients from the fridge, I give a little thanks to the cosmos that Koko provided me with such a well-stocked fridge.

I quickly wash the vegetables and start chopping them up as the sandwiches sizzle in the pan. He gazes on in fascination as I work in the kitchen.

The comforting scent of grilling cheese wafts through the cabin as I chop up a cucumber and peel a carrot. I start cutting the carrot, but I'm worried the sandwiches might burn. These burners seem to run hotter than the one at my old apartment. Turning away from the chopping board, I carefully lift one of the sandwiches to check the doneness. The gold-flecked crust crackles softly, revealing perfectly melted cheese oozing from within. Perfect. I flip the sandwiches with the spatula.

Suddenly, a rhythmic thumping from behind makes me spin with a start. My heart misses a beat as I take in Ravok's formidable silhouette. His massive frame fills the small kitchen as he rapidly chops up the carrot. His movements are surprisingly graceful, the knife gliding through the vegetable like it's made of butter.

"Oh… wow." I trail off. Ravok is chopping and dicing, his glowing eyes focused intently on the cutting board. The metallic glint of his silver skin under the warm kitchen light creates an uncanny image that sends a shiver down my spine.

Ravok quickly finishes cutting the carrot into precise slices. He looks so natural with the knife in his hand that I wonder for a moment if he was a chef on his home planet.

The sight is so bizarre and unforgettable that I find myself grinning, my heart filling with a strange warmth. I can't help but relish the odd friendship I'm beginning to form with him. Joining him at the chopping board, I give Ravok a grin and hand him a handful of cherry tomatoes, miming that I want them cut in half. As he takes care of the tomatoes, I wash and tear the lettuce into bite-size pieces.

The comforting scent of grilled cheese sandwiches mingles with the rhythm of Ravok's chopping. It's so homey and cozy that it feels like a Hallmark moment. The smell of cooking summons my little beggar and I shake my head as Mango saunters into the kitchen, watching us cook with hopeful eyes.

After I plate the sandwiches and create two bowls of salad, I check the fridge and find two bottles of dressing. I grab both and set it all on a tray. Carrying the tray of food, I return to the living room. I try to get Ravok to stay in the kitchen so I can come back and help him to the couch, but he shakes his head and follows me, grumbling under his voice. I blow out an exasperated breath and give him my most serious face. "You're a hard ass," I tell him.

Ravok grins unrepentantly at me, but the edges of his smile seem a little strained. Once I set the tray on the table, I turn to help Ravok lower himself onto the sofa.

"Here we go," I say, handing Ravok his plate. I watch as he picks up the sandwich and his face twists in unfamiliarity. Yet, after a hesitant first bite, his eyes widen with what I suspect is approval. A small, amused smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as Ravok's attention definitely seems to skew towards the sandwich more than the salad. It's not surprising really.

Once we finish eating, I get up to take care of the dishes. Ravok puts his hands on the arm of the couch like he's also planning to get up. I stop directly in front of him, propping my hands on my hips. "Don't you dare," I warn him, wagging my finger. Ravok doesn't have a pupil, so I can't be sure, but I think he rolls his eyes at me. However, he settles back down which is all I'm concerned about.

I set the dirty dishes by the sink and open the drawer where I found the flashlight, thinking I remember seeing a bundle of string in there. I make a triumphant noise when I find it. Pulling it out, I cut a length of it several feet long. I want to keep Ravok occupied while I take care of the dishes so he isn't tempted to help.

I have no idea if Ravok will go for this or even be offended, but I'm going to show him how to play with Mango. It will hopefully keep them both occupied so I can get the dishes done without worrying.

As I walk toward where Ravok is seated, I trail the length of red string behind me. I giggle when I realize that Mango is in Ravok's lap again. He's such a slut for petting. As I stroll past, Mango leaps after the string with his claws extended, his eyes keen and his tail lashing behind him.

I flick and dangle the string, getting Mango to attack it. Ravok sits forward in his seat, a slight grin on his face at the cat's antics. Ravok watches my demonstration, his eyes following every twitch of the cat and motion of the string. When I offer the string to Ravok, he eagerly takes it from my hand.

Mango crouches in anticipation, the eager glint in his eyes mirroring the glow in Ravok's.

Ravok mimics my movement, flitting the string from side to side and Mango pounces with nimble glee.

Leaving Ravok and Mango to their game, I take the few steps back to the kitchen. I watch them play for a moment before I start rinsing the dishes. Once I'm done, I quickly toss together the ingredients for an easy beef stew. It should be enough to get us through a few days, even with Ravok's appetite.

It takes me a few minutes, but by the time I'm done and return to the living room, I find the muscular alien and my cat still playing. The look of enjoyment on Ravok's face pulls on my heartstrings.

When I return, Mango abandons the string in favor of twining about my feet and purring. When I bend down to pet him, he flops on his side as if exhausted from his fifteen minutes of playtime. I giggle at my pet's antics and straighten up. I wonder if Ravok will want to play chess some more. However, one look at Ravok's face has me reconsidering those plans.

Fatigue has his eyes drooping and his shoulders slumped. Now that he has eaten, I imagine his body needs time to work on recovery. Ravok's rapid healing must be taxing on his system.

I catch Ravok's gaze, pointing to him and then down the hall to the bedroom. I mimic laying my head on my hands, closing my eyes and pretending to snore lightly, my way of asking if he wants to rest. Ravok's eyes flicker with curiosity and perhaps a hint of amusement before he shakes his head, his decision clear as daylight.

What can we do that won't be too hard on him? We could keep playing chess, but I imagine Ravok might start getting bored with that.

Perhaps he'd enjoy watching sports. Its competitive nature might appeal to Ravok and if I pick the right one, it should be simple to follow the rules. I run to my bedroom to grab my laptop as I contemplate what to put on. I consider several options but settle on soccer since I enjoy watching it. The impulse to share my love for sports, and more specifically, soccer, takes over. It's a game of intense action and strategy, balancing physical and mental stamina. I feel as though Ravok might appreciate those elements. Besides, I reason, the rules are generally simple enough that he should be able to follow them.

I decide to put on one of my favorite matches – the USA vs Algeria in the 2010 World Cup. I was fourteen years old when the original match occurred. At that age, I had been pulling away from my parents, looking for my own direction in life, but it was a tradition to watch the World Cup with my dad. I didn't know then that it would be the last one we watched together. Plus, other than the nostalgia for me, it was a damn good game.

Once I've pulled up the match, I sit beside Ravok.