To hear the signal?

Y.

Talk later???

Two words, and a lifetime of isolation, of longing, of the need to find someone who would understand. I didn’t hesitate. I typed Yes and pressed Send before I could change my mind, then dropped the phone to the bed and stood, heading for my suitcase. It was time to get dressed. Graham never took long in the shower, and I didn’t want to be the reason we were late.

I was dressed and pinning my hair into a tight, low-maintenance bun that wouldn’t look rumpled as it dried when Graham emerged, back in his boxers, toweling his hair with one hand. He had taken the time to shave. The crisp, acerbic smell of aftershave followed him into the room, woody and somehow green, like he’d rubbed an entire herb garden on his cheeks. He raised his eyebrows as he looked at me.

“Who was that?”

“A friend from high school who saw I was in his time zone from Mandy’s social media. She’s about as discreet as a tank.” The lie came smooth, easy, and embarrassing. Lying to Graham was the last thing I wanted to do. But Graham was human and Jeff was not, and while I wasn’t ready to shift my loyalties that completely—I loved Graham, loved the reality of him, the smell of his skin when I woke up in the middle of the night, the feel of his stubble against my lips; I barely knew Jeff as anything more than a faintly terrifying figure in my dreams—I knew I needed to keep them apart. Just for now. Just long enough to learn more about what was about to happen.

“Oh, neat.” Graham moved toward his own suitcase. “We going to get together before we head home?”

The casual way he said “we” made my heart clench in my chest, reminding me of my own traitorous thoughts. Once the invasion was here, there wasn’t going to be a “we” anymore, not in the sense he meant it. There would be “us” and there would be “them,” and the lines would be drawn on species, not on emotion.

Somehow, my smile still came when I called for it, curving my lips upward in apparent agreement. “If things work out,” I said. “Wear the green shirt. It makes you look more like a professor and less like a grave robber.”

“I’m not a professor.”

“You’re not a grave robber either, and we still get followed by security every time we’re in a cemetery.”

Graham laughed and kept laughing the whole time he was getting dressed, stealing little glances at me and chuckling to himself. I finished pinning my hair, still smiling, and hoped he couldn’t see how frightened I was.