Hello, my alien lovers!

I've received some great news lately. I'm afraid of sharing them as if speaking about it would doom them immediately. Jinxing shouldn't be a thing, and yet here we are.

I don't know about you, but with every good news comes the dreaded, "Oh, this is too good to be true. Something's going to come and ruin it." My therapist says that's a trauma response. I think it's just being practical.

My therapist taught me to celebrate my wins a little bit more. To find joy and satisfaction in small achievements as well as larger ones. Today, I passed 50,000 words on the manuscript for Perilous Love Stars —let's celebrate that! I'm planning for 90k words total, which means I still have a good chunk of writing to do...

Another thing to celebrate: my favourite French soap is KILLING IT!

The best plot right now is the love story between Barbara (widowed mom) and Louis (sexy museum robber). They worked together to catch a duo of con artists preying on and killing older women to steal their apartments

Barbara was hurt, Louis visited her at the hospital... and THEY KISSED! It's not going to be easy, though. Louis is on probation and broke it to help Barbara. Since half of the characters in the show are cops (🫣), I expect lots of drama to ensue.

Finally, let's celebrate Chapter 19! When will my other babies kiss? AH! Who knows?

They're starting their road trip, so buckle up. I guarantee you, there's a shit tone of drama coming their way.

Enjoy!

L. 🩷

If you're new to the story, start with Chapter 1

If you missed the last chapter, Previously on Perilous Love Stars

Two hours into the car ride, Maple got tired of watching the dark grey sky and its irritated clouds.

Nightfall was upon them already, and Salvatore hadn’t looked at her once since she entered the car and gave the coordinates to where she hoped they’d find Daphne’s house. He wasn’t saying anything, just driving in silence. When Maple had turned the radio on an hour before, hoping to escape some of the awkwardness with music, he’d gently asked to turn it off. “Music distracts me. I want to stay vigilant. There’s a killer after you.” He hadn’t said anything since then.

Fun times.

She hated that the first thing that came to mind when she thought of bridging the conversation gap was to ask a follow-up question about cinnamon. The scent was still present. Nobody else but him had been in the car since he started tailing her for her “security,” so she now knew that cinnamon was Salvatore’s touch and not one of his conquests. That information was worthless except for the little warmth it created in Maple’s belly. No matter how bizarre the situation was, she could rely on the fact he wasn’t in a situationship with a cinnamon addict.

The prolonged silence was killing her, though. She was seriously reconsidering her decision to turn her phone off until she’d secured Daphne. (There were so many panicked text messages from the Scandalous Crew group chat she could handle before she started pulling her hair out.)

Twice already, Salvatore had whisked her away without clear motives. She could forget the evasiveness of their first ride. He hadn’t come out to her yet and had used his horrible trust spilling power on her. It wasn’t a great start, but Maple believed in second chances. She thought they’d formed a new bond over the past few days. She also felt the bond gave her certain rights, such as investigating Salvatore’s motivations. Some questions were too burning to be held back. And there was only one in Maple’s mind right now.

She cleared her throat. “I know there’s a lot we could circle back on, including why you seem so determined to defend me against a potential alien killer, but I really want to follow up on the cinnamon.”

He grinned so broadly the white of his wide and sturdy teeth startled her a little. Still, he stayed silent. She was going to be stuck in a car with that man for seventy-two more hours if the GPS was to be trusted. She’d break him until he told her everything she needed to know.

“I’m waiting for the question. I know there’s a question coming.”

She almost said, “Oh, there’s more than that coming,” but recalled enough common sense not to make an inappropriate joke. None of this was professional in any capacity, but she could try to keep some professionalism alive. They would have to confront HR at some point—when production resumed or when they’d go in for their exit interview. Until then, she had to hold herself to the highest standards possible, even though Salvatore’s sweat mixing with the cinnamon scent created a third mystical new smell that wasn’t helping.

“Are you okay?” he inquired when he noticed Maple turning red from holding her breath.

He chuckled, dividing his attention between her and the road.

It was the first time he’d directly looked at her since they’d gotten in the car. She knew because she’d been waiting for it, for the moment their eyes locked. When they did, she felt this jolt, like an electric current coursing through her entire body.

Little of the past few days made sense. Kidnapping, alien killers, production shut down, Salvatore’s newfound obsession with being in her presence—all of it was so surreal. She had no choice anymore but to embrace it.

She opened her mouth, gulping some air. “How much cinnamon would you say you consume on a regular day? Are we talking about a few cookies or an entire box? Because this car reeks of it even though you’ve been alone in here for two days.”

His grin widened. “Are you anxious?” he said.

“Anxious? Why would I be anxious when a bloodthirsty alien is trying to kill me.”

“I don’t think they’d drink your blood if that’s what you’re afraid of.”

“I’m primarily afraid of being murdered. Do we even know of any alien species that drink human blood?”

“Not to my knowledge. My turn,” he said with a glint in his eyes. “Am I making you anxious? You ask a lot of questions when you’re anxious.”

“The intergalactic SUV you seem to have handy doesn’t inspire much confidence.” Dodging his question was easier than admitting how much effect he had on her and that, yes, she was very much flustered from being stuck in a car with such a handsome man. 

“Au contraire,” he said, perfectly imitating Maurice’s accent. “I meant what I told you earlier.” The grin disappeared, his face hardened. “I will protect you. The car is added proof that I’m the best person for the job. I’ll make sure you get to Daphne safely.”

“What comes after?” she asked, leaning away from him, watching the road pass by instead. She didn’t like how needy she sounded, but this was the perfect moment to voice some of her fears. “If someone is trying to kill me, they won’t stop because I bring an actress back to a show. You can’t stay my bodyguard forever.”

“Maple, I will protect you from whoever is after you. You can trust me.”

Could she? She barely knew the man. For years, they’d been nothing more than colleagues. Salvatore had never paid special attention to Maple. She’d never not paid special attention to him because nobody could. Countless times, her eyes had lingered on the actor’s body too long while he was waiting for his coffee order at craft service or rehearsing lines between scenes. Sometimes, when she watched him kiss Marsha for a scene, she’d dreamed that, for just one take, Salvatore would beckon Maple into the spotlights and kiss her instead.

 Salvatore was a gorgeous television star. And that gorgeous star was hellbent on protecting her from a deadly threat.  Maple wasn’t sure she had processed any of it correctly yet. She was so determined to find Daphne that it didn’t matter. If bringing her back to the show was the last thing Maple did before getting killed by an alien or fired for lusting at the star of her show, then all of this wouldn’t have been for nothing. 

She opened the glove compartment and shrieked when three packs of cigarettes and a box of cinnamon cookies fell out on her lap. 

Salvatore caught her eyes and leaned in. His arm, covered by the sleeves of his hoodie, brushed her shoulder. His fingers fought open one of the packs on her lap, his eyes pinning Maple to her seat.

She worried they’d get into an accident, but Salvatore had already grabbed a smoke out. He brought the cigarette to his mouth… and ate the whole thing. 

He broke eye contact with Maple, checked the road, and started chewing his cigarette. 

Maple stared at him.

“I eat cinnamon like candy. I love candy, but human candy tastes like garbage to me. Cinnamon tastes amazing.” He swallowed. Maple watched his Adam's apple bob.

“And the cigarettes?” She asked, cramming everything back inside the compartment, not wanting to witness him ingurgitate another one.

“I eat them when I’m stressed. Before auditions, when I struggle learning my lines….” He paused, his eyes fixed on the road. “Or when I’m turned on. It… calms me down.”

Rain abruptly started pouring from the sky. Salvatore didn’t blink at the interruption. Maple realized how tight he was holding on to the wheel. She had to get out of this car, or something terrible would happen.  He might do something he couldn’t take back. She might say something she’d regret forever, like, “Please stop the car and fuck me senseless right on this seat.”

“I’m getting tired. We should stop for the night,” she said instead.

There was a noticeable change in Salvatore’s posture. His eyes narrowed, his stance tensed up. He nodded. “I will find us a place to stay.”

She wasn’t sure what happened. The spark that’d flown between them minutes ago was gone. Salvatore went back to his default mute mode. Maple sighed with relief when they finally arrived at a tiny motel discarded by the side of the road after twenty minutes spent in pure, freezing silence.

They reached the reception after racing out of the car. For all the SUV was stocked with—a few survival kits, three different laptops, a suitcase full of funky socks Salvatore wore on his days off—nobody had packed an umbrella.

The receptionist shot them a gummy grin when they entered. “Well, hello, you two,” he said as he reapplied a thick layer of neon pink gloss to his luscious mouth. He chewed on his gum and pulled his lips together. “What can I do for ya, babes?”

Maple was about to beg that flamboyant homosexual for a room or any space away from Salvatore so she could find a desk and think.

“We would like two rooms, please,” Salvatore said before she could. “Close to each other, please.”

The receptionist, whose hair was also flamboyantly pink, looked at Maple. His right eyebrow sharpened, a smirk outlining his lips. “Kinky. Love that.”

Maple stopped breathing and refused to look at Salvatore’s reaction

Ludovik—indicated by the tag name on the washed-out vest the receptionist wore—shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t accommodate that request, though, Daddy. We only have one room available for tonight.”

“Did you just call me ‘daddy?’” Salvatore asked.

“Like I said, only one room available for tonight,” Ludovik repeated, ignoring him. 

Maple moved past Salvatore to throw herself on the reception counter.

“Bunk beds?” she pleaded, hope quivering in her voice. 

Ludovick pouted his glossy lips. He shook his head again. 

“Twin beds?” More pink-head shaking from Ludovik. “A bed and a couch? Two very large chairs?”

Ludovick grimaced at that. “Chairs? It’s a “ew” for me. No, babe. It’s a one-room, one double bed.” Ludovick moved his attention back to Salvatore. “Take it or leave it, ‘cause that’s all I have, babes.”

Before Maple could lie her way out of that one, Salvatore leaned forward. “We’ll take it. We’ll share the one bedroom.”

Salvatore paid and got the key. As they headed out to their room, Maple heard Ludovick say, “You’re welcome, babes! Doing it for the plot!”

What is going on between Salvatore Súarez and his boss?

By Peyter Panffer

It seems things aren’t ready to settle down for Betteraves & Betrayals. Just a day after the studio behind the show announced a production shutdown following countless reports of dangerous on-set incidents, culminating with the mysterious disappearance of head producer Ermett Ersweld, its star, Salvatore Súarez, was seen cozying up earlier today to showrunner Maple Defleuvier, his boss, at a gas station hours away from Sobriquet Lake, where the show is filmed. Although it is still unclear what they were doing inside that mysterious blackout SUV or where they were heading, it is the first time they are seen together in public. What is going on between them? Are they lovers?

Salvatore Súarez, famously known to have been discovered at the sweet age of sixteen with no memories of whom he’d been before, has always been private about his personal life.  Although he has never publicly dated anybody before, and most of his love life is a mystery to fans and reporters alike, he has shared in past interviews that gender didn’t matter when he fell in love. “When I meet someone, if I like them, that’s it. That’s all that matters.” He has, to this day,  refused to be labelled, although he hasn’t rejected “pansexual” when asked about it in a 2XX4 interview with Forever Soapy.

Does Salvatore’s recent intimate road trip with his boss indicate a change in the star’s love life? Is it yet another love scandal for Betteraves & Betrayals, just like the infamous 1XX9’s Garfunkel-Herrera Affair, when a torrid love affair between cast member Fran Garfunkel and Make-Up Director Antonia Herrera almost derailed production? Or is it a studio-orchestrated distraction to keep us from Ersweld’s kidnapping? Only one thing is sure: We, at Forever Soapy, will always keep you posted. 

Forever Soapy, article, May 20XX