The lobby of Maxwell’s was pretty, in a nineties sort of way. Nikki smiled when she caught herself admiring the curlicue wallpaper on her way out the back door to the employee parking lot.

Nikki had been out of New York for so long, living in that screened porch of a cabin with Honey and Addy, that she had forgotten what a nice lobby looked like. She tried to picture the mahogany walls and hand knotted carpets of the Algonquin.

But all she could see was Nala Payne, her mentor, sliding her spectacles up her nose, leaning heedlessly across her untouched plate of food in the dim light of the Round Table, encouraging her to go undercover for this piece.

She replayed the conversation in her mind as she got in the car and headed out of the gravel lot and over the one-lane bridge toward town.

“But Nala, what if I can’t get anything out of him?”

“Travers is so full of himself, I question whether you can shut him up once you’ve got him feeling safe on his own territory.”

“I’d have to leave the city for so long, and drop everything else I’m working on.”

“Nicola Fortune, listen to me. Print journalism is dying. No one is going to hire you just to show up. So you have a choice to make if you want to write for a living: either take a shit job reporting click-bait crap with spooning celebrities, or sacrifice some time and effort to freelance an important, career-making piece like this one. Besides, Travers is a dirty insider trader, and if you don’t flush him out, he might never get what’s coming to him.”

Nala had been right, of course, she always was. As one of the first female African American journalists to win big accolades in the heyday of her youth, Nala had gone on wild and sometimes dangerous adventures to get her stories. A summer working in the Catskills would have been a vacation.

Nikki drove on. The road wound around the lake.

When she got to the other side of the lake she would be in the little town of Purple Mountain.

The island in the center of the lake blocked the view of Maxwell’s from town, and vice versa. This was handy, because it meant that Nikki could be close to the resort, yet as far as anyone living there was concerned, she might as well be in another galaxy.

Another galaxy…

She had come here to do an exposé on Sam Travers.

And she had walked right into the story of a lifetime.

When she was leaving for Maxwell’s her fellow journalism grads were heading to Stargazer in droves, desperate for any scrap of info about the boys from space.

And they had landed right in Nikki’s lap. Although in a less literal sense than she might have secretly liked.

She pulled into a parking spot between the Lutheran church and a small café, soaking in the breeze from the car’s weak air conditioning as she twisted her hair in a tight bun and slid on a pair of sunglasses. Nikki’s dark curls were her most prominent feature, so she hoped if she made them disappear and covered her blue eyes, she might not be recognized, even if someone from the resort did show up in town.

By the time she reached the seating area on the lawn of the café overlooking the lake and the other side of the island, the waiter was coming out to greet her.

“Hey,” he said with a big grin. “Right on schedule.”

She laughed.

“Want to sit inside today?”

He looked hopeful and she felt bad for him that he had to come out in the heat to wait on her.

But she couldn’t do what she needed to with an audience. So they would both have to suffer.

“Oh, it’s too pretty out here to sit inside,” she said with a smile.

He smiled back, smitten and uncomplaining.

It would have been cute, except that Nikki would have preferred he not remember her very well, or pay her too much attention.

“I’ll bring your lunch,” he said.

She nodded and headed to her table.

The lake was sparkling in the morning light. And though it was humid, it wasn’t steamy yet.

She slid out her laptop and the phone she didn’t use over at Maxwell’s.

Nala picked up on the second ring.

“Nikki,” she sang out in her rich contralto. “How are you?”

They exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. Nikki got to hear about the new craze in the city - a gluten-free croissant doughnut hybrid that could only be found at one Soho bakery with a line around the block.

Then they talked shop.

Nikki was still trailing Travers. She needed to keep her routine the same anyway, and there was no reason not to have two good pieces up her sleeve.

But they mostly talked about the aliens, what she should be asking them about, what people might like to know about who they were, what they were like with each other and with the others at the resort.

And at last the conversation rolled around to the thing Nikki both hated and perversely loved to talk about.

“So…” Nala trailed off.

“So what?”

“So what about Indiana? Did he find a woman to click with yet?”

“Nope,” Nikki said. “But Remington and Addy clicked.”

“Indy really likes you, huh?” Nala chuckled, not taking the bait about the other couple.

“I guess he does,” Nikki admitted.

“And he looks as good as the other ones, doesn’t he?”

“Yeah, they’re all really… healthy,” Nikki said, wondering if that might be the understatement of the year.

Nala hummed thoughtfully. “I’ll bet they are.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen,” Nikki said quickly.

“I know you’re not,” her mentor said, suddenly serious. “Because if you did, all your hard work and good luck would turn into a joke.”

“I know,” Nikki said. “I can’t get involved with my subject - that’s Journalism 101.”

“Arguably, you already are involved with him,” Nala said. “But yes, if you play your cards right you could wind up with a Pulitzer for this. On the other hand, if you get in bed with that boy, it’s a salacious tabloid piece at best, and the end of any serious career.”

Nikki bit her lip.

She was a lucky woman. She’d managed to secure scholarships and graduate with minimal student loans. She had lucked out with Nala as a mentor. She had stumbled into the alien story while chasing the Travers piece.

Landing a man like Indiana would have been the icing on the cake.

But she was going to have to suck it up and do without.

Her access to these men - who weren’t really men - was a gift that should be shared with the whole world. If she could peel back the layers of what made them tick, her work might help promote peace between the two planets. The truth was more important than her own happiness. And she could not write an impartial story if she gave in and fell in love with him.

“You can do it, kid,” Nala said, the smile in her voice encouraging Nikki more than any words.

“Thanks,” Nikki replied softly.

“Go write something,” Nala advised. “Write it out.”

“Okay,” Nikki said. “I’ll call again next week.”

“Bye, love.”

By the time she hung up, the waiter was headed her way with a pitcher of fresh orange juice.

She slid her laptop out so as to have an excuse not to chat with him.

Keeping nice guys at bay was starting to become her MO.