I grab a fry from the paper-lined cup and hold out one for him.
“This, Ravok,” I begin, rallying up my best professor-like tone, “is what we earthlings call a french fry. It’s made from a potato which is a root-like tuber that grows underground. We take it and deep-fry it to perfection. Crunchy on the outside, soft on the inside. I love them, so I hope you’ll like them too. I like to dip mine in ketchup, which I have here,” I point to the little paper cup filled almost to the brim with ketchup.
My breath catches in my throat when Ravok leans down and takes the fry from my fingers with his mouth. I make an embarrassing little ‘huhgnn’ noise when his lips brush gently against my fingertips just before he straightens up.
As he chews, Ravok gets a comically serious look on his face, like he’s mentally preparing an analysis and report.
“I like it,” Ravok announces once he swallows his bite.
“Try one with ketchup,” I suggest. “Oh! And try the lemonade. It’s a drink made from a tart citrus fruit. It’s sweetened with sugar until it is very sweet and very tart.”
Ravok follows my example and dips a fry into the ketchup, then follows it with a large gulp of lemonade. His lips pucker, and I can see his jaw muscles flex at the tartness of the drink, but then he gives me a grin. “Delightful,” is all he says.
After that, I lose my mind a little. I’m like a kid in a candy store, I want to get one of everything. We try coconut shrimp, crab cakes, a little cup of clam chowder, beer-battered fish, ice cream, and funnel cake. Ravok likes it all.
On my last trip to the tents, I promise to get a selection of ‘love’ foods from the contest table. I’m so full that I feel like I’m about to burst the seams on my jeans, but I love sharing this with Ravok. He’s so open to trying anything new.
I return with a tray of offerings – chocolate-covered strawberries, a flute of champagne, a little heart-shaped raspberry cheesecake, a fig stuffed with blue cheese, a tiny piece of bacon-wrapped filet mignon, and a couple of raw oysters.
The tray is so overloaded and heavy that Ravok helps me set it on the tree stump.
He looks over all the items on the tray. “These are ‘love’ foods for humans?”
“Um, well. According to some people. I’m not so sure. Just to warn you, I’m not sure you’ll like everything here,” I say, thinking specifically of the fig, champagne, and oysters – none of which I find personally appealing.
“All human food I have had so far is delicious. My people’s food is paltry in comparison. Humans seemed to have perfected the art of cooking.”
It’s a warm evening with the lulling hum of conversations and the soft glow of the fairy lights in the distance. It feels like a fairy tale romance, and I can’t stop smiling. This is the best date I’ve been on in ages.
“Okay, I know you’re gonna love this,” I state, cutting off a bit of the juicy steak. The aroma of seared meat and herbs fills my nose as I offer it to Ravok. “I’ve always really liked it when people wrap the steak in bacon.”
Just as I suspected he would, Ravok really likes the steak. The taste pulls a moan out of him that sends a heated blush creeping up to my ears. My gaze is irresistibly drawn to his lips throughout his feast.
Next, I hold out the plastic champagne flute for Ravok to take, I add a quick, “By the way, it’s alcohol.” Ravok casts a slight glance at me but nods his head in understanding. I had wondered if his people partook of alcohol since the Cryzorians seem like an austere and puritanical people.
Ravok ventures a small sip. After a moment, he declares, “I like the bubbles, but the lemonade is better.” A laugh springs forth from my chest; we definitely agree on that.
The next course involves a slice of decadent cheesecake. With his first bite, Ravok’s eyes light up making me grin from ear to ear.
Then comes the item I’m most concerned about – a raw oyster. Ravok picks up the halved shell, tilting his head to study its slimy occupant before glancing at me, his eyebrows knitted in confusion.
“Here,” I say, demonstrating the process. “You just tip it back and eat the oyster whole. It’s considered a delicacy and an aphrodisiac. Just to warn you, they are an acquired taste. I don’t like them, so I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t like them either.” With butterflies fluttering in my stomach, I wait for his reaction.
I find myself holding my breath as I watch Ravok pick up the half-shell, hold it above his open mouth, and tip it back. The moment the oyster slides into his mouth, an unmistakable look of revulsion and horror crosses his handsome, alien face. His brows knit together, and he jerks, looking almost panicked for a fleeting moment.
He begins to chew with the look of a man facing his doom.
I thrust a napkin into his hand. “Ravok, it’s okay. If you don’t like it, spit it out. I promise I won’t be offended.” I can’t help the unsettled laughter that bubbles out from my chest. I tried to warn him.
Ravok shakes his head in stubborn defiance. He clenches his jaw, before continuing to gamely chew. After a minute, he finally swallows hard.
He clears his throat, wiping his mouth with the napkin with finality. He states, with palpable grit, “I am a Cryzorian Outrider; a tiny slimy mollusk will not defeat me.”
A burst of laughter gusts out of me at his stoic declaration. I laugh till tears well up in my eyes. As I look at Ravok, he sucks up the last gulp of the lemonade, his face looking as if he’s discovered water in an arid desert.
Realization pierces me like a shooting star.
I am completely, hopelessly in love with Ravok.
My heart races, and my cheeks flush as I stare at him helplessly.
Oh no. What am I gonna do now? Of all the dumb things to do, I fell in love with an alien who is leaving soon.
One thing I am sure of is that I can’t tell him how I feel. How unfair would that be to him, to announce my love, knowing full well that nothing can come of it? It’s not like we can have a long-distance relationship. And I worry that if I say anything, I will prevent him from doing what he must. If Ravok stays on this planet, I’m certain it will only be a matter of time before he gets discovered.
I can’t be selfish – I have to let him go.
I bite my lip and stare at the grass beneath my feet, blinking until the hot feeling in my eyes dissipates.
Once I get myself under control, I push down my feelings as he gulps down the last of the lemonade. I don’t want to worry him.
“We have finally found human food that I do not like, Leelee,” Ravok announces with a wide grin.
“I warned you.”
Ravok chuckles at my admonishment but doesn’t seem bothered by my teasing.
“Wait. You didn’t like the oatmeal either,” I remind him.
