After Jake finishes unpacking his things, we go into the kitchen. He walks over to the fridge. "Do you not eat?" asks Jake as the bright light of my refrigerator bounces off the sparkling clean, but nearly empty inside of the appliance.

"Of course I eat." I hold up my cell phone. "That's the beauty of living in a city. If you're hungry whatever we want is only a phone call away."

The fridge door closes behind Jake as he turns to look at me, and he scowls. "You have a complete kitchen and don't cook."

"Goodness no. Not if I can help it." I recall his profile said he could cook though, and I ask, "You do?"

He stiffens a bit as if he's insulted. "Did you not read about me?"

"I did. And—" I catch myself before I offend him more. "I didn't think you could cook on Eroscia. Tell me how you did."

Jake relaxes his shoulders as he smiles. "You're correct in thinking we don't make our meals, but I created a simulator."

I flash to an image of him in virtual reality goggles. He looks proud, and I think he wants to show off. "What would you like to make? We can go to the grocery store and get what we need."

Jake's face lights up. "A grocery store?"

I chuckle at his excitement. "When we're done we can go to a liquor store and pick out wine too." I recall the warning about aliens and their lack of tolerance for alcohol. "Oh. I suppose that's not a good idea."

"Do you like wine?" Jake winks at me. "Because I've heard that can be a very good thing."

I imagine he may have watched a few romance movies before I say, "I do." I tilt my head at him as I wonder how one drink might affect an alien and ask, "But I think it's best if we stick to only one glass for you."

His grin gets big. "Lead the way."

The supermarket is two blocks from my apartment. People move in groups along the sidewalk as cars whoosh by. Horns honk and a bicycle bell rings as a messenger passes by us. As we walk Jake glances around at the activity, wide-eyed. He notices me watching and says, "This is so much better in real life."

I've read that Eroscia is mostly underground and utilitarian in nature. I try to see the city through Jake's eyes, and I imagine how amazing if must feel being able to smell and hear what he's only experienced through television. It makes me want to show him all my favorite places. "We'll have to spend the next few weeks touring all the sights."

"I'd like that," he says as he stops in place at the entrance of the supermarket. He stares up at the large, lit-up sign in glowing red, and I think he might be a bit awestruck.

My heart melts at his childlike wonder, and I take his hand. "C'mon." I pull out a cart, and the wheels rumble over tile as I push it behind Jake. He rushes over to the produce section. We get to a display of tomatoes and avocados, and he reaches forward tentatively. I say, "You can touch them. Go ahead."

Jake lifts an avocado and gives it a squeeze. "This isn't ripe. It should yield to gentle pressure."

I smile. "We can buy some and they'll ripen over the next few days if you want. What do you plan to make?"

He drags his hand over the tomatoes before he moves over to the bin of fresh corn. "I don't know. There is so much here." He lifts up an ear of corn. "Silver Queen. This is a very good variety. Sweet." Jake is then distracted by the peppers. "Oh." He lets out a small moan. "So many choices. How am I to decide what to make tonight?"

"Don't worry, you have the rest of your life to try it all."

He darts his gaze to me and stares for an arrested moment, and the heat in his eyes is hotter than the habanero pepper he’s holding. He smiles slowly. "I hope so."

I think about our kiss earlier and my insides melt a little as I smile back. It occurs to me that since we're in a coastal city, fresh fish could be a treat for Jake who is used to bland, processed meals. I ask, "Did you learn any seafood recipes? There is a wonderful fish market around the corner that's an experience all on its own."

He nods at me. "I know what to make. It's the last thing I practiced before I left. Seared ahi tuna, with jasmine rice and wasabi mashed potatoes."

I step over and grab a potato to toss at him. "That sounds delicious." It slaps into Jake's hand as he catches it, and I spy fresh local strawberries. I grab one and pop it in my mouth. Sweet juice explodes on my tongue as I bite. "Hmmm." I take a berry and hold it out toward Jake. "You have to try these."

He looks at me in horror and instead of reaching for the fruit I offer, he grabs my jaw like I’m a dog who stole a steak and pries the berry from my mouth. "That's stealing."

“Ouch.” I rub my jaw. Oh boy. I'm not sure I can explain the nuance of what I did. He’s staring at the saliva-covered, squashed strawberry in his hand, and I bet he’s slightly horrified by the germs. I pluck it out of his fingers to pop it in my mouth before I reach for the pint container. "Not if we're buying them. Try one."

He gives me a skeptical look but takes a strawberry from the box, and I watch his face as he experiences the flavor. His eyes flutter shut, and I ask, "Amazing, right?"

He reaches over and takes another to inspect it. "What a delightful thing," he says before he bites into it. I chuckle as I grab another pint.

We walk slowly down all the aisles, and he spouts off information about items as if I've never seen them before. It's like having a kid in a toy store, and I soak up the joy my alien exudes. As we shop for dinner, I decide to stock up on snack food too. A bag rustles as I grab chips, and Jake stops walking. He takes in all the varieties of salty snacks before us and frowns. He grabs my chips out of the cart and flips the bag over to read the back. "There is nothing healthy in these. Why would you eat them?"

I snatch the bag back out of his hand. "Because they taste good."

"Hannah," he says in a stern tone.

I stiffen at his judgment and snap back, "Did you like the strawberry?"

"Yes. But—"

"I like chips the same way." I drop the bag into our cart and begin to walk away. Jake lets out a sigh, but I ignore him. I didn't sign up for a controlling partner and I'm tempted to say so, but I’ve committed to making our relationship work, and somehow I manage to keep my mouth shut. He does the same as I add a box of cookies and some ice cream to our cart, but his expression says what he's thinking. My skin crawls with his disapproving gaze, and I can’t believe I feel like I have to justify myself as if my father is looking at my report card, upset that I didn’t get straight A’s.

We finish at the grocery store without revisiting the subject of my food choices, and my anger dissipates because I think I made my point clear. When I take Jake to the waterfront, any lingering irritation I had with him disappears as I watch him view the ocean with eyes full of childlike wonder. We walk to the end of a pier, and boats squeak against the buffers as they rub on the dock. Men shout while unloading a large fishing boat, and I explain to Jake how the fishermen come in and sell their catch to the market owners. I point out pleasure boats for comparison.

Uneven wooden boards on the walkway creak under our feet as we move back toward the market entrance, and Jake tilts his head to the sky to inhale deeply. "What a curious smell."

"Good or bad?" I ask.

"It will always be good if I like fish. If not," he crinkles his nose, "Then it will continue to stink."

I smile at him as I grab his hand and pull him inside the fish market. The whirl of fans is loud when we enter, and Jake glances down at the concrete floor and steps gingerly over a drain. A display case is before us, filled with shaved ice and piles of shellfish labeled with their names. The prices are written in wax pencil on the glass, and I get the attention of the woman behind the counter. "Jake is new in town. Do you think he could hold an oyster?"

The aliens from Eroscia all have a green cast to their skin, making it obvious they're not from earth, and the older woman smiles at me as she hands him the shellfish. He rolls it over in his hand as the woman says, "Oysters are for a more discerning palate. You might want to start off with something like steamed clams or mussels."

Jake asks, "What does an oyster taste like?"

She lets out a moan of pleasure. "Like a sip of the ocean."

He turns to me and raises his eyebrows, and I nod in agreement. Jake looks at the woman, "We'll take a dozen, but from which region do you suggest?"

When the woman begins an explanation of the different oysters, I wander off to get a basket because it's clear we're getting far more than tuna here. I'm right, and on the walk home the two of us are loaded up with bags. Mine are heavy in my hands as Jake says, "Thank you, Hannah."

"You're welcome. Shopping with you is fun." I bump his shoulder. "Besides, you're making me dinner. I like that."

"Yes. After seeing your cupboards I know why." We walk in silence for a while before he says, "Do you realize a healthy diet will help you work smarter and live longer? Research shows as much."

I had hoped the junk food I bought was a dead subject. "I've heard that, but I manage pretty well." He lets out a small huff as he scowls at me, and I give him a warning glare that stops him from speaking his mind. "We have something here on Earth we call free will. That means if I choose to eat something for taste, then I can."

"What if affects others?"

Oh boy. "How exactly does what I eat affect you? It's my body, which you do not get to rule. Got it?"

Jake's nostrils flare, but he doesn't say anything as he lengthens his stride to pick up the pace. I move faster too, and the silence between us is heavy. After a few moments he speaks softly. "I don't mean to judge, Hannah. We don't eat the way you do here on Earth, and obesity isn't a problem on our planet." He quickly adds, "Not that I think you're fat." I give him a wry grin. I'm on the thin side, and weight has never been a problem for me. He says, "I plan to grow old with you. I want to do everything I can to make sure that happens."

The warmth I felt when he first kissed me returns and I wonder if he's touching me the way I've heard aliens can do. It's a gesture of love, and it makes my anger subside because I believe he means what he said. "I know. But you need to trust that I’ve managed to stay alive all these years before you came along, and my eating habits are my responsibility."

"Okay." He reaches over and lifts one of my bags out of my hand. "I won't tell you what to eat, but I'm going to make it my mission to fill you with healthy meals so you don't crave junk food instead."

The edge of my anger dulls as I glance over at Jake. The fact that he wants to cook every day for me fills me with a warm glow. While it'll be a cold day in hell before he pries my beloved cheese puffs out of my hands for good, it's nice to have someone who cares. I smile and say, "Go right ahead."