Slowly ascending from his blissful slumber, Tristan couldn't remember the last time he felt so well-rested. Between intense studies toward his Major in computer engineering, competing on Val Tech's quiz bowl team as well as the chess team, and working at the local mall's movie theater five evenings a week, peaceful rest was hard for him to come by. But right now, as he relived the dream of glittering kisses, every cell of his body felt relaxed.

The sensation lasted until he remembered his upcoming Astronomy test.

What was the time? Tristan's alarm, which had been set for 8 a.m, hadn't gone off but it felt like he'd slept forever. Looking over at the digital clock on the bed stand, he realized the display was blank. He must have accidentally pulled the cord out or something, or maybe something had short-circuited the device during the night. Perhaps a power outage... or a glittering woman arriving from a galaxy far away.

Tristan rubbed his face to erase such impossible thoughts. That had just been a beautiful dream.

Besides, he had more important things to think about. Like finding out what time it currently actually was. Panicking about having already missed the test, Tristan bounced out of bed to find his watch. After having rummaged through the whole room, he finally found it on the window sill.

8.50 am. 10 minutes to his test. He hadn't missed it but he was certainly in danger of doing so.

But he could still make it! If he left like... now. Ten minutes was usually how long it took for him to get to class since he lived on campus but if he ran he should be able to make up the time needed to dress and find a pen. Because his Astronomy professor was very stingy about students who didn't bring pens to class.

While Tristan located his shirt on the floor, because turning up shirtless for a test seemed like something his professor might be stingy about as well, he heard muffled voices from the shared living room outside. Which was odd, since neither of his flatmates, Yeong and Brody, should be at home this week.

Actually, Tristan had barely seen Yeong, a Korean exchange student, since the first week of the semester. He'd met a girl with purple pigtailed hair and a penchant for K-pop at a party and soon thereafter ditched his roommates to bunk with her instead. Although Tristan had briefly caught a glimpse of Yeong last week when he popped in to get a jacket that he'd left behind.

Brody was usually present though and Tristan had to admit he missed his jock friend, who he had bonded with through late-night video gaming. Being the star center of Val Tech's hockey team, Brody was away in Toronto for the team's playoff campaign. Which meant Tristan was all alone this week.

Well, not all alone. He also had Bobby, the cat who he and Brody had saved from the dumpster behind the dormitory and now hid when residence services came around with their pesky rules about pets not being allowed. The cat's name was a frequent source of friendly arguments between him and Brody since Tristan's roommate claimed the feline was named for hockey legend Bobby Hull while Tristan knew that the true namesake was chess wiz Bobby Fischer.

Regardless of where the name Bobby came from, it had stuck even after Tristan's friend Des, a self-appointed animal expert, had visited to make sure the cat was properly cared for and explained to the clueless guys that the already-spoiled kitty was in fact a female.

Speaking of Bobby, where was she? Usually, Tristan's feline companion was reliable for waking him with some well-placed paws to the face before his alarm even went off.

Maybe Brody had arrived home in the wee hours of the morning and was now catching Bobby up on the events of the playoffs? That would explain both the voices from the living room and the absence of an attention-starved cat.

Having decided that the sweatpants he'd slept in were probably acceptable for class—because removing them and finding a clean pair of pants in the mess on his floor seemed like a time-consuming task—Tristan exited his room, ready to hurry to class.

He froze in place in the doorway.

On the couch—which weirdly enough seemed to be missing its pillows?—sat a glittering entity escaped from his dreams.

She shouldn't be here. She couldn't be here. It wasn't possible. She wasn't real.

"Hello." The alien entity waved at him from the couch and put down an Algebra textbook on the coffee table. The book appeared to have bite marks on it. Had she been chewing on it?

"No," Tristan replied, unable to say anything else. He closed his eyes, trying to wake up from what must still be a dream. "No. No. No. No. You're not here."

"Unfortunately, I am," the reply came from the couch. The voice cut shattered the illusion of it all being a fantasy. "Trust me. I don't want to be here either. But I can't really get home right now."

Tristan opened his eyes again. The being looked even more glittering and mesmerizing in the daylight. For a brief moment, he felt an urge to kiss those utterly enticing shining lips once again, just like in the perhaps-not-a-dream of last night.

Maybe she was just in full cosplay? Being a stereotypical nerd, Tristan had been to several comic book conventions and observed girls dressed up in similar attire as they portrayed their favorite characters.

In an attempt to figure out whether her otherworldly sheen was real, he leaned closer. The glow certainly didn't seem to be applied just on the surface like make-up but rather it appeared to come from within as if her very essence was powered by starlight. Tristan couldn't help but want to touch the smooth-looking skin, even though he knew such moves shouldn't be attempted without consent.

Perhaps seeing his twitching hand and curious gaze, the strange woman on his couch smiled. "You can touch me if you want," she informed him. "If you need to ensure that I'm real, I mean."

A hand with nails that glowed bright orange like the sun took his own hand and guided it toward a shimmering cheek. The texture of her skin was as silky as he'd expected, like the petal of a delicate flower.

"What... who are you?" Tristan stuttered, too fascinated by the unfamiliar surface to remove his hand. This was definitely not the cheek of a human being. Which meant that his hand was exploring something of extraterrestrial nature. "Are you an alien?"

She shrugged. "That question is relative. To me, you're an alien."

That made sense he supposed. Although an alien sitting on his couch didn't really make sense at all.

"What is your name?" he asked because that seemed like the kind of thing you ask an unexpected guest. And this guest was certainly unexpected.

"I'm Princess Vyrsa of Isola," the alien replied proudly. "I told you last night, remember?"

"I... uh, remember," Tristan replied eloquently because he certainly did remember. He remembered how wonderful it had been to kiss those electrifying lips.

"And who are you?" Vyrsa asked, a hint of a smile on her lips. She seemed to be amused by his confusion.

"Tristan Conway." In this situation, Tristan was happy he'd remembered his own name. "Where is Bobby?" Having established the confusing nature of the situation, Tristan suddenly grew concerned about his feline friend. His gaze fell upon the chewed-upon textbook on the table. "You better not have eaten her?"

"Bobby?" The extraterrestrial being on his couch wrinkled her eyebrows—which appeared to be made of rhinestones—in confusion.

"My cat," Tristan explained. "Furry. Orange. Meows a lot."

"Oh, the cat." Vyrsa pointed toward a corner of the living room. "I noticed there wasn't an appropriate appreciation pedestal for her in your living quarters, so I built one out of the soft sitting devices."

Tristan looked to where she was pointing to find Bobby, content and non-eaten, perched upon a throne made of couch pillows. "Murrhhh," the cat purr-meowed, apparently pleased with finally getting the attention she rightfully deserved. Tristan walked over to pat the kitty on the head, to show her that he appreciated her too. He just hadn't thought about building her a throne.

While petting the purring cat, Tristan's gaze fell upon his watch. 8.56. Oh, fuck!

"I have to go!" he announced, rushing toward the door. "I can't be late for my astronomy test!"

Vyrsa cocked her head to the side. "Astronomy?"

"It's about planets and galaxies and all that stuff," Tristan explained impatiently while cursing the laces on his shoes. Unable to figure out how to tie a knot in his rush, he opted to instead use Brody's crocs, despite them being three sizes too big for him.

"I thought earthlings didn't know anything about those things," Vyrsa mumbled, seemingly confused. "That's what the Council of Alien Culture claims."

"The council of what..." Tristan slung his backpack over his shoulder, ready to run out the door. "Nevermind. I will deal with all of this after my test. Just wait here!" He opened the door. "Just don't eat any more of my books!" Stepping outside into the hallway, he turned back one more time. "You're in charge, Bobby!" he proclaimed, grabbing a pen from the dresser before closing the door behind him to run toward his test on planets, galaxies, and stars.

Although it seemed he may get a better lesson on those things by staying in his apartment.