“I messaged you this morning like you asked me to, and yes, I was probably supposed to message you when I got home tonight but I just forgot. I’m sorry. Everything is fine. I’m alive. The building didn’t burn down. All good on this end.”
Imani heaves a relieved sigh and though I can’t see her, I just know she’s rubbing the bridge of her nose under her glasses. “What about yourguest?”
“My guest is currently leading a fierce battle against a plate of spaghetti.” I chuckle as I watch the pasta slip from Omni’s fork for the third time in a row. Lifting his head, he pierces me with a mock-glare before going for an attempt number four. “The spaghetti is winning,” I tell Imani. “Everything is fine, I promise.”
“And you’re not just saying that because he’s holding you hostage?”
I can’t stop the snort that escapes me because at this point, it’s more like I’m the one holding Omni hostage. Not ready to share this revelation with my friends, I say nothing. I might tell them more about Omni later but first, I need to digest the information myself and after the day I’ve had, I don’t want to deal with a furious Imani or the once-in-a-blue-moon serious Caleb. “No, he’s not holding me hostage. Wait, isn’t that what I’d say if he was actually holding me hostage? What am I supposed to say to prove he’s really not holding me hostage?” Huh. This is not a situation I ever thought I’d have to deal with.
“I’m glad to be of amusement to you,” Imani grumbles, taking my silence as confirmation I’m okay. “Next time you drag home someone dangerous, I’ll hold off on calling the police until your rotting corpse is all bloated and stinking so badly that your landlord will never be able to rent your apartment out again.”
Since I know she’s just venting to release her pent up fear on my behalf, my reply is equally outlandish and ridiculous. “Oh please! We both know at least a dozen people who would love to live in a rent controlled apartment like this, regardless of whether someone died in it or not, stench included. Seriously, though. Thank you for caring, Imani. You’re a great friend and I’m sorry for not checking in sooner, but I’m beyond exhausted. I’m not really in the mood to talk tonight, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to go crash in front of the TV. I’ll text you in the morning... If I survive the night,” I can’t help but add.
This time, it’s Omni who’s rolling his eyes but he doesn’t comment, focusing instead on bringing a forkfull of the finally captured spaghetti to his mouth. As he slurps in the escapees, more sauce ends up on the front of his coveralls and, yeah, I will have to acquire more clothes for him. Pants won’t be a problem, I can just get some stretchy sweatpants in approximately the right size, but he can’t wear a T-shirt with his wings on. When washing his coveralls yesterday, I noticed they had two slits running up the back, ending in odd-looking clasps at the base of his neck. The clasps weren’t difficult to figure out, though I’ve never seen a similar design before. The material of the coveralls felt strange, too. Thinner than my leggings, yet extremely durable. Could it be some type of specialized military gear that hasn’t been released to the public yet?
Watching Omni chase the spaghetti around the plate with his fork is the peak of cuteness, reminding me of the original problem. He absolutely cannot be walking around here shirtless. I’m barely holding back from making a move on him as it is. Ifhe were shirtless right now, I’d probably melt into a puddle of horny goo. He needs a shirt. With slits down the back because it’s become absolutely clear the wings are not coming off. I don’t know of any shops that cater to angels in the area but, fortunately, I know just the right person who can help me.
Me: Caleb, can you make some clothes for my houseguest, please? Something with wing slits?[text bubble]
Caleb hand-makes all of his own costumes and every single one is stunning. I’m sure that a shirt with wing slits won’t be an issue for him.
Caleb: I think him walking around naked would be a much better sight, but sure. What size is he?[text bubble]
Me: No idea. His coveralls don’t have any tags. But he’s bigger than you.[text bubble]
Caleb: *shocked face emoji* That’s what she did NOT say![text bubble]
Caleb: Bigger in which area?[text bubble]
My snort has Omni raising his head but he returns to his food when I wave it off dismissively.
Me: All of them.[text bubble]
Caleb: Pics or it didn’t happen[text bubble]
Me: It didn’t happen. He’s about a foot taller than me, so like 6ft5, and has really broad shoulders. Just make him something loose that he can wear because I can’t have him walking around here half naked.[text bubble]
Caleb: That hot?[text bubble]
Blushing, I peek over at Omni, wondering if he can somehow read my thoughts, but he’s focused on his meal. I send a row of flame emojis to Caleb, certain he’ll get the message.
Caleb: On it, though it’s a crime to cover such a perfect body. Does he ever take the wings off?[text bubble]
Me: Never[text bubble]
Caleb: Totally an alien[text bubble]
I hate that that thought is gnawing at me as if there was an actual possibility of Omni being an alien. Aliens don’t exist! Only crazy people like my parents actually believe in them and, while I might share their DNA, I refuse to share their craziness. I might love losing myself in all kinds of fictional worlds but that’s what they are. Fictional. Aliens don’t fall from the sky in the middle of the desert, they don’t sleep on my couch, and they don’t eat spaghetti at my table.
Chapter 13
Fin
Oncewe’redonewiththe food, Omni gathers the plates in the sink and starts washing them. He frowns suspiciously at the sponge and uses way too much dish soap, but shoos me away when I try to help, so I leave him to it. It’s actually nice to not have to do it myself. Just as it’s nice to have someone to come home to and talk to and… Damn, I can’t believe I’m imagining a man in my life? Am I really that lonely? It’s not like I don’t have a social life. I chat with my friends all the time and we meet at least once a week. Still, it’s not quite the same as having someonewaiting for me at home. Let’s face it. I’m not imagininga manin my life. I’m imagining Omni.
Chuckling at the absurdity of Omni being my boyfriend, I stand and stretch out my arms and back, enjoying the odd pop and crack as my spine realigns itself into the correct position. Wanting nothing more than to sit down and relax in front of the TV, I pause while my brain begins an internal struggle. My couch is currently set up as Omni’s bed, neatly made with the sheets and pillows in order. It doesn’t feel right to sit on it, like we’re about to have sex or something. Which we aren’t! No way. No sex. That would be a terrible idea. I can’t exactly remember why, but I do remember that it is definitely a bad idea. I should text Imani. She could tell me a dozen reasons why getting intimate with Omni would be wrong.
“Fin?” Omni looks at me over his shoulder from a sink overflowing with bubbles. God, how much dish soap did he use? “Sit and watch TV?”
