Thump.

  Alex groans, squeezing her eyes shut.

  Thump.

  She shifts, burrowing deeper into sleep. It’s been so long since she’s slept this well, and she refuses to let anything ruin it.

  Thump.

  “Yes, I heard you! I’m getting up!” she yells, voice thick with sleep. Blinking awake, she frowns. Marble ceiling.

  She bolts upright. Her grey bedroom walls are gone, replaced by—her kitchen?

  Thump.

  Her head snaps toward the noise. The upstairs window. Probably a pigeon—birds never seemed to grasp the concept of glass.

  Thump.

  No. Too heavy. Not a bird.

  She scrambles to her feet, almost slipping on a puddle of melted ice cream. Hand pressed to her pounding skull, she stumbles toward the door, unlocking it with a sharp click. The second she yanks it open, sunlight slams into her, blinding and relentless.

  Thump.

  Peering around the corner, she stops short.

  Chris is outside, one foot raised mid-hop, tossing a shoe at a window on the second floor—Her window.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Alex demands.

  Chris flinches so hard he nearly topples over. The shoe slips from his fingers, arcs through the air, and smacks him square in the forehead.

  "Alexandra. Fucking. Jordan." His voice is a barely contained snarl.

  Alex blinks at him, still groggy. "Good morning to you, too?"

  Chris seethes. "I have been out here. Knocking. For four hours and thirty minutes!"

  Her eyes widen. "You—what?"

  "Where the hell is your phone?!"

  Alex pats herself down. Nothing. "Not with me."

  Chris opens his mouth, ready to unleash another tirade, but then his expression shifts. His gaze locks onto her face, eyes narrowing.

  "Is that blood on your face?"

  Alex frowns, lifting a hand to her cheek.

  Chris steps closer, scanning her with sharp intensity. “What in God's name happened?” His hands hover, unsure whether to touch, but ready to act.

  Alex catches her reflection in the window, and sees it. Dried flecks of red.

  Chris doesn't wait. He pushes past her, striding into the house, searching for answers.

  Alex swallows. This was going to be a problem to explain.

  Sometime before the present: The Intervention …

  Alex sits across from Chris and Lilian, therapy-style.

  Thirty-two minutes. That’s how long they’d been in this standoff, Chris and Lilian repeatedly shifting the full length of the couch, radiating nervous energy. Obviously, they had something important to say.

  Chris’ right leg taps a frantic rhythm against the carpet, Lilian opening her mouth, then shutting it. Again. And again. After another cycle, Alex decides to put them out of their misery.

  “You wanted to see me?”

  “Yes.” Lilian exhales, as though relieved someone else finally started the proceedings. “Alexandria, we’re worried about you.” She says and elbows Chris when he misses his cue.

  Chris straightens. “Naturally, we’re staging an intervention.”

  Alex blinks. “Oh. Never had one of those before.” She tilts her head in thought, then grins. “This might be fun.”

  Chris sighs. “You’re not supposed to enjoy it. That’s why it’s called an intervention.”

  “My bad.” Alex forces her expression into mock solemnity. “Proceed.”

  Lilian, ever the saint, continues. “We noticed you seem… rather lonely most of the time.”

  Chris, ever the wrecking ball: “And you have no friends.”

  Alex recoils. “That’s a bold claim.”

  Lilian reaches across the coffee table, squeezing Alex’s hands. Alex lets her.

  “It’s just—we never see you talk to anyone, or bring people home.”

  Chris nods sagely. “On account of you having no friends.”

  “Chris.”

  “What? It’s true.”

  Alex exhales through her nose, biting back a chuckle. Her social life had warranted said intervention, Chris and Lilian treating her lack of it like some kind of debilitating disease. A fond reminder that humans—even after all this time—still cared about the weirdest things. Lilian says something, and she schools her face into thorough affront. Wouldn’t want to make it a walk in the park for them now.

  “We’re not trying to pry, but have you considered... seeing someone?” Lilian asks hesitantly, and Chris stiffens.

  “See, that right there is prying, honey.”

  “It’s not prying if we’re trying to help.”

  “I’m just saying,” Chris counters. “This isn’t exactly our business.”

  Alex leans back, thoroughly entertained. If all interventions were like this, she wouldn’t mind having a few more.

  “Oh my God, Chris,” Lilian whisper-hisses. Or thinks she whisper-hisses “This is not a united front!”

  Chris turns, voice equally dramatic. “You skipped the matchmaking chapter when you pitched me this idea.”

  Alex clears her throat, feigning disinterest. “You guys know I can hear you, right?”

  They could be in Timbuktu, and she would still be able to zero in on whatever conversation they were having. Not that they needed to know about that particular peculiarity of hers.

  Lilian whirls back around, perfectly composed. “What we’re saying is, maybe you should spend time with people other than us.” She resumes from six conversations ago, not missing a beat. If that wasn’t a talent right there

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “Yes. People your own age.” Chris winces the second he hears himself, eyebrows knitting in realization of what he had just uttered. “Wait. No. Scratch that.”

  Alex fights the smile threatening to break free. “I like spending time with you guys.”

  Lilian softens. “And we love that. But—”

  Chris interrupts, blunt as ever. “Basically, Lilian wants you to get a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. Or… person-friend. Whatever works for you.”

  Silence.

  “Wow,” Alex exhales.

  Lilian presses her fingers to her temples. “He’s being an ass about it—” She squeezes Chris’ shoulder. Hard. “—but he’s right. There must be someone you like.”

  A magnificent build up to a borderline tepid climax, Alex thinks. “There isn’t.”

  Chris sits up. “Someone you liked?”

  “No.”

  Lilian leans forward. “Maybe a lost love?”

  “Nope.”

  “From the twelve hundreds perhaps?” Chris persists, with a frown now situated on his face. And Alex has to inhale deeply, resisting the urge to scream.

  “No one.”

  A heavy pause. Lilian fidgets. Chris stares at her like she’s grown a second head.

  Then:

  “Okay, now I mean to pry.” Chris leans in. “You’re telling me you’ve never been attracted to anyone?” He asks, completely flummoxed. And that look on his face puts Alex right back in an amused mood.

  Alex’s lips twitch.

  “You don’t have to say it like that.” Lilian starts another session of the non-whispering, whispering thing again.

  “I'm sorry, but I am utterly shocked right now.” Chris whisper talks, before turning back to Alex. “Is that how things work, where you're from?”

  And wasn’t that a funny question? Seeing as she has no idea where she’s from.

  “Quick reminder: I don’t know where I’m from,” Alex reminds him. “But I assume I had parents and didn’t just... drop from the sky.”

  She trails off as something itches at the back of her head. A thought. A memory—

  “Alex.”

  She blinks. Both of them are watching her closely.

  “So yes,” she says, shaking it off. “I was probably born, just like you.”

  Chris exhales, deciding she’s fine again. “Okay, cool. So, uh...” He hesitates. Alex waits.

  Chris takes a breath. “Do they, um... copulate?”

  “Christopher Jordan!” Lilian gasps, scandalized.

  “What? It’s for research.” Chris blushes puce, shoulders rising and dropping in a shrug. Alex dissolves into laughter.

  Chris glares. “Now she’s laughing at us, Lilian.”

  “She’s laughing at you.”

  “Okay, let’s clear up the confusion.” Alex says, when she's a bit settled, and her lungs have taken in sufficient air. She leans forward, voice steady. “I’m not attracted to anyone. Never have been. It’s not a ‘species trait.’ It’s a ‘me’ trait.”

  Silence.

  “Is that a good enough explanation?”

  Lilian nods. “Of course. It’s perfectly fine.” She nudges Chris, who still looks lost in thought.

  He huffs, still thinking way too hard about this. “Now, hold on a second, I don’t—Oh.” He stretches the word as realization dawns. “Nevermind. It’s fine.” The tension drains from his shoulders.

  Alex lets out a silent breath of relief.

  “I can’t believe you two were about to give me The Talk. I am older than both your ancestors combined.”

  “I was against this idea, for the record.” He presses a hand to his chest.

  Lilian huffs. “Please. You were scared.”

  “I wasn’t scared. I was cautious.”

  Lilian rolls her eyes, turning back to Alex. “I still think you need a friend.”

  Alex considers this.

  “Well,” she shrugs. “I do have a brother.”

  The reaction is instant.

  Chris and Lilian freeze, identical expressions of shock.

  Alex leans back, suspicious. “I take it that counts?”

  “You have a brother?” Lilian screeches.

  “Yes, but—”

  Chris looks around, as if expecting him to materialize. “Since when?”

  “Well it's—”

  “Where is he?” Lilian demands, and if they would actually let her get a word in—

  “Oh, he's actually—”

  “And why haven’t you mentioned him before?” Chris adds, completely distressed

  Alex opens her mouth—

  Both Chris and Lilian stare at her in anticipation of an answer, Chris even going as far as flapping a hand, urging her to hurry up.

  She exhales, long and slow. “Oh. So now I can talk?”

  Alex trails distractedly behind Chris, nearly smacking into him when he freezes just in front of the door.

  She peeks around him, following his horrified gaze, and grimaces at the reddish-green puddle on the floor. A tragic end for what was clearly a delicious bowl of ice cream.

  Chris inhales deeply, his voice dangerously calm. “Tell me you did not throw a rager in my house.”

  “I swear, I didn’t,” Alex says automatically—then pauses. Because last night was a little blurry. “…I think.”

  Chris turns to stare at her, a look somewhere between pissed off and deeply concerned. Alex takes the opportunity to examine him in return—he’s mostly intact, except for the glaring absence of his left shoe.

  She grins. “You alright there, buddy?”

  “I don’t know. Are you?”

  Alex glances at her reflection in the window and winces. “I feel a lot better than I look.”

  Chris relaxes a fraction. “That’s good. Because you look like you tried to stop a bullet train with your face.”

  Alex chuckles— If he was making jokes, the situation probably wasn’t that bad.

  Chris leans against the back of the couch, arms crossed. “What do you remember?”

  Alex tilts her head. “I was by the fridge, trying to get some ice cream. Then I got this brutal headache. Next thing I know, you’re trying to break into your own house by assaulting bulletproof glass with your shoe.” She waves a hand at his singular footwear situation.

  Chris scoffs. “I was scared shitless. I thought something had happened to you.”

  “Apparently, I’m fine,” Alex shrugs, then narrows her eyes. “Wait—why didn’t you have your keys?”

  Chris uncrosses his arms and very casually struts away. “There was a, uh… freak weather thing last night. Thought it might be you?”

  Alex rubs her temples, trying and failing to recall anything beyond the past ten minutes. “If it was, I have no idea.”

  Chris hums, grabbing the remote from the floor and flipping through channels.

  Alex eyes him suspiciously. “You have no clue where your keys are, do you?”

  Chris sighs. “None at all.”

  Alex presses her fingers to her forehead and cringes. “Of course.”

  Chris watches as she massages her temples, concern creeping back in. “You okay?”

  “I’m biologically incapable of having a hangover, but I imagine this is what one feels like.”

  “You should see Akio.”

  Alex groans loud. “I’m fine, Chris. I just need a nap.”

  “I'm sure you are.” He insists, “but it doesn't hurt to check.”

  She stalks into the kitchen, fetching herself a glass of water. “I'm alright. There's no need worrying him over minute things.” she says and gulps the water down rapidly. Chris eyes her thoroughly.

  Chris squints. “Alex, you woke up in a puddle of blood and ice cream and barely remember how you got there.” He gestures vaguely. “Unless ‘minute’ has drastically changed definitions…”

  “Twenty minutes,” Alex interrupts. “I take a nice, long shower, clean this place up, and boom—back to fun Alex in record time.” She gives him a pointed look, daring him to challenge her logic.

  Chris reels back dramatically. “Who says you’re fun?”

  “You take that back.”

  Chris smirks. “I won’t.”

  Alex points an accusatory finger at him. “That is slander.”

  Chris goes for the kill. “What would Lilian want?”

  Alex’s protests die instantly.

  Chris tilts his head, faux-innocent. “You know she’d want you to get checked out. Make sure everything is alright in that can of yours.” He adds a particularly pitiful expression for effect.

  Alex groans in defeat, running a hand through her already-messy hair. “That’s a—Really, Chris? Using your dead wife as blackmail? This is a new low.”

  “Not if it’s for a good cause.” Chris grins, victorious. “You flying or driving?”

  “I never said I was going,” Alex grumbles.

  Chris doesn’t even blink. “Flying or driving?”

  She sighs, rubbing her temples. “Flying. I’d like to get this over with.”

  Chris nods, satisfied. “Good. I’ll book your flight. You trashed my jet last time and didn’t even clean it.”

  Alex tilts her head. “That actually wasn’t me. I loaned it to this girl for her bachelorette thing.”

  Chris stares at her. “That’s even worse, you giving out something that wasn't yours in the first place.”

  He whips out his phone, books the flight in record time, and nods at the confirmation ding.

  Then he turns back. “And please clean up before you leave. I can’t have people thinking I run a fight club in the basement.”

  Alex folds her arms. “That’s all you’re worried about? How I look?”

  Chris looks vaguely sheepish.

  Alex smirks, victorious again.

  Chris sighs, relenting. “Right. I’m sorry.”

  Alex nods, satisfied—

  “Clean up the ice cream too,” Chris adds. “I had those floorboards flown in from Rome.”

  Alex glares.

  Chris just smirks again and starts up the stairs—only allowing himself to grin when he knows she can’t see him.