When She’s Shy – A Risdaverse Short Story Read Online Ruby Dixon

Categories Genre: Alien, Alpha Male, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 16
Estimated words: 14300 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 72(@200wpm)___ 57(@250wpm)___ 48(@300wpm)

I am a bashful, dorky human woman -- your average refugee on Risda III.

Haina is tall, blue, and magnificent. She is effortlessly confident, and her laugh is contagious. I might hide behind the candle section at the store in Risda's port just to get a weekly glimpse at her when she makes her vendor runs.

I might be in love with her from afar. Someday I'll get the courage to talk to her. Someday.

But fate steps in, and 'someday' turns out to be a lot sooner than I expected.

(This is a wlw short story that was previously published in the Pride Not Prejudice anthology.)

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************



She's in town again.

My heart thumps with excitement as I stare out the window, eyeing the space port and the ships flying in. One in particular catches my eye with its bright red body and pink racing stripes. There's a swirling logo of some kind on the side that tells me it belongs to a brand, but I don't particularly care. All I know is that the same person pilots that ship and comes in to Port with a new supply of goods every Thursday. She delivers them to the general store, chats with the male behind the counter or a few of the port custodians, and heads on her way.

And I'm completely and utterly in love with this woman.

You're an idiot, I tell myself as I smooth my hair in my tiny mirror and run a hand over my nicest tunic-dress. The fashions here aren't the most flattering for human forms, but I've gotten pretty good with a needle and I've tailored my clothing to fit my frame and emphasize my bust. It's a bland olive green, but the color looks good with my skin tone. I lotion my hands and then run them over my hair one more time, as my baby-fine brown hair goes everywhere with the slightest hint of a breeze. I should pull it back, but I have a pointy chin and that will just make me look unpleasant and bird-like and it's important that I look pretty.

Not that I have the courage to speak to the woman of my dreams, but a girl can always hope.

Like I do every Thursday, I shut the windows in my tiny farmhouse and race out to my air-sled to head into Port. I'm close enough to town that I could walk, but I don't want to get sweaty, damn my vanity. As I cruise the short distance into town, another ship thunders onto the docks, thrusters deafening as it hovers and settles into the perfect spot. A lot of people didn't want a farm too near to the port docks because of the noise, but I don't mind it. It makes me feel less lonely to see the ships go in and out, day after day. It's something to break up the monotony of farming, and I like it, noise and all.

I zoom over the main street of Port and settle near the store itself, my sled settling and resting over one of the designated parking spaces just like the bigger ships, and I imagine what it'd be like to go traveling with my crush. To have our hands touch as we reach for the controls and share a chuckle. To have the pleasant sound of another voice in my ears, just sharing the minute events of the day. To sleep in her arms at night.

I'm so busy daydreaming that I don't notice my surroundings. No sooner do I turn my sled off than another crunches into my passenger side, slinging me against the door and setting off proximity alerts. I cringe as I stumble out of the driver's side, my head throbbing from where it smacked against the window.

"What are you keffing doing?" the man growls as he emerges from his vehicle. It's a praxiian, one of the catlike males that works on the docks, and not a very friendly one, either. He glares furiously at me and gestures at our vehicles, now sandwiched together. "I was clearly signaling that I was parking!"

Anxiety overtakes me and I want to protest that I was paying attention, that I didn't see a signal, that I was there for a full thirty seconds before he landed. I want to tell him to get out of my face, but my fear of confrontation gets the better of me. I freeze up and my throat works, and all I can manage is a tiny squeak of distress.

"What?" he demands.

"S-sorry," I blurt, even though I'm not at fault. I just want him to go away.

He practically snarls at me, only to straighten, his expression calming as he stares at something over my shoulder.

"Is there a problem?" one of the port custodians asks in a friendly voice. He moves to my side and ever so slightly nudges himself in front of me.

"No problem, custodian," the praxiian growls. "The female hit my vehicle but it doesn't look like there's damage. Just call it even."

The custodian turns toward me. He's the big solid one that looks like a wall of muscle and a thick neck. He eyes me, and then my vehicle, and then turns back to the praxiian. "Looks like you hit her and not the other way around. Should we request a replay of footage from both vehicles to see who hit who?"

His voice is reasonable and polite, but I just want to run away. I want to hide in the store and wait for him to leave. I want to run back to my farm. Anything just to get away from this awkward, uncomfortable moment and the hate the praxiian is glaring in my direction.