Mascara. Eyeliner. Lipstick. Carla gave herself a once-over, twice-over, no, thrice-over in the mirror to ensure her makeup was perfect for tonight’s Valentine’s Day date with Jeff. Fourth time checking herself and she sighed, now that she completed her work—wait, no. Was that a rogue hair next to her eyebrow? Pluck. Gone. Now she’d have to start over, lest she missed something else. Tonight required perfection.

Carla wasn’t usually this concerned about her looks. Most days she barely glanced at her reflection. Today was different, and not because it was February 14th. Today was the day she would reveal her true self to Jeff.

Then dump him.

“You’re uncharacteristically quiet this evening,” Jeff observed. Smooth jazz played over a low hum of patrons conversing, dishes clinking, waiters serving. The lights were dim, softly adding to candlelight coming from every couple’s table. The Porterhouse was the most esteemed restaurant in town, with prices to match and a waitlist spanning several months. For Valentine’s Day, it had to be twice as hard to get a reservation, or more. Carla was shocked Jeff had been able to book a table, especially since they had only been dating for three weeks now.

Carla peeked over her menu. “I don’t know what to order.”

“The tortellini is a favorite option among pasta lovers. But if you’re craving steak, the namesake Porterhouse can’t be beat.”

“You sound like a waiter.”

“I used to work here, you know.”

Carla did know. Parents of rich kids would sway the owner into hiring their children for jobs in between college semesters so they could learn the value of a hard day’s work, or something like that. In reality, those kids only worked a few tables a shift, but made the same amount in tips that most people working summer jobs would make in an entire week. It was a grossly incorrect representation of reality.

Yet, Jeff was different. While most bragged about the new Porsche or Jaguar they bought with their paychecks (and a hefty load of money from their parents), Jeff invested his earnings, intending to use the money on a nice house for his family one day. He was financially savvy, technically oriented, and a bit of a nerd. A handsome nerd. She could hardly believe a guy like him, who could win absolutely any girl he wanted, would actually choose her. But she couldn’t think about that right now, not when things had already gone on too long. Three weeks too long.

“I know you like pasta,” Jeff offered. “Maybe with a glass of Pino Grigio?”

Jeff was always good with wine pairings. He got that part of being a rich kid, Carla supposed. She nodded and smiled. “That sounds good.”

The waiter cleared away the menus after the couple gave their orders. Carla wished she could have kept that long, leather booklet to hide behind, feeling exposed otherwise. Jeff gave her a soft smile and reached into his suit jacket pocket, pulling out a small white box tied with red ribbon. He handed it to her.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, dear.”

“Oh Jeff, you didn’t have to.”

He paused, smirking. “It’s Valentine’s Day. I kind of do.” She gave a polite little laugh and pulled off the box lid. Inside were a beautiful pair of silver earrings shaped like wings, tastefully studded with blue amethysts (her favorite), and a cursive note that read, “to my rare bluebird, my angel in disguise.”

Her blood ran cold.

“You’re blushing.”

“I-I really like them,” She stammered, glancing at the note, then at his eyes (gorgeous, deep green irises), then back at the note. He couldn’t know. It had to be a coincidence. She hadn’t told anyone about her true purpose in town, especially not Jeff.

“I thought they were appropriate for someone… More than human.”

Was that a term of endearment or did he know her real identity? A shiver ran through her as he took her hand from across the table.

“Carla,” he continued, “I don’t mean to stress you out. But, I don’t like secrets, so I don’t want to keep any from you, and I hope you wouldn’t keep them from me. You’re not from this planet, are you?”

She stared at him, then shook her head. This wasn’t how she planned to tell him! Her movement was nearly imperceptible, but enough of an admission for Jeff. He grinned.

“I knew it! An exchange student from California (with a thick accent that’s obviously not West Coast), host parents out of town for months on sabbatical, not allowed to have anyone over—it just didn’t make sense. You had something to do with that foreign airship people found back in August, didn’t you? Is that how you got here?” His voice rose from the excitement and drew attention from nearby tables. She shushed him.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “But I got a good look at ship and it didn’t just look foreign, like the news said. It looked alien. All sorts of controls and knobs and buttons that just weren’t normal. And it didn’t have wings. So how did you make it fly?”

She glanced to the side, then locked eyes with him again. He was so earnest, but he wasn’t supposed to know. He shouldn’t have known.

“I thought about it for a while,” he continued, “even before meeting you. Surprisingly, it matched some characteristics of planet Cerulean technology, so I dug into that a little more and discovered that their people look a lot like ours. Except, uh,” he paused, looking hesitant himself for the first time that evening. “Possibly more beautiful on average than our own.”

Carla thought she felt his hand get a little warmer. He shook off the hesitation.

“We call your kind Blue Angels. It’s rumored that you can glow, when you want to, and that your glowing indicates some kind of strange power.”

Not only did he know, but everything he knew was correct.