An array of strange – alien – vegetables were arrayed on the worktop: blue things that looked a bit like cucumbers, furry purple potato-melons, and something that resembled cooked spaghetti. The merchant who’d sold them to me had told me how to prepare each one. They’d looked like a four-armed platypus, but they seemed to know what they were doing.
As I was about to start chopping, the bell chimed.
‘Enter.’ In response to my verbal command, the door slid open.
‘Enter? What kind of greeting is that, darling?’ Paul stood in the doorway, backlit by the green and purple light from the sunset.
My eyelids slammed shut, refusing to open. ‘Captain Picard,’ I stammered. ‘It’s what he always says. You know, when there’s someone at his door?’ My voice cracked like I was going through puberty all over again.
‘Who?’ I could sense him moving around my suite – I prayed to God he wasn’t planning to sit down anywhere.
‘Star Trek.’ I swallowed and opened one of my eyes just a crack. He was still there. And he was still… ‘Paul, why are you naked?’
‘May the force be with you, darling.’ I flinched as he touched my arm.
Sometimes I could swear he was toying with me. ‘Paul,’ I repeated. ‘Why are you naked?’
‘Like what you see?’ Paul turned his hands up with a flourish, then spun around. His face took on a serious look. ‘Oh, don’t be such a prude, sweetie. No one on this entire planet wears clothes. Well, present company excepted.’ He made a flicking motion in my direction. I wore a new apron over the acid-wash jeans and flannel shirt I’d been wearing when… When they… When I… No, I wasn’t ready to think about what had happened on that highway. The events that brought me to this alien world millions of miles from anyone I’d ever known.
‘Some people wear clothes. I met someone just the other day.’ I couldn’t cook with Paul looking like that. ‘Are you covered in glitter?’
‘I am, darling.’ Paul winked at me. ‘How sweet of you to notice.’
Heat rose up my neck. Maybe a more practical approach would work. ‘You can’t help me like that. You’ll get splattered.’
Paul groaned melodramatically. ‘Oh, fine, darling. Have it your way.’ I inhaled sharply as he put his hands on my shoulders.
But then he lifted the apron over my head and put it on himself. ‘Better?’
I swallowed. ‘Thank you.’
‘Now where you do you want me?’
He was definitely toying with me. But I didn’t have to play his game. ‘You can start by washing your hands. I don’t want you getting glitter all over our dinner.’
With a melodramatic sigh, he headed to the sink. His glistening buttocks jiggled between the sides of the apron. ‘You’re no fun, Petey, darling.’
I pushed a pair of blue stalks into one of the kitchen gadgets and pressed the slice option. ‘No, you’re not the first to point that out. Hand me the potato-melons, would you?’
‘What the ever-loving—’
‘Never mind.’ I squeezed past him and put my hands on the small plum-coloured vegetables.
