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"Because my friend, who I’m loyal to, is on one side and your sister, who you’re extremely loyal to, is on the other."
He nodded in understanding. "But what if I feel like I’m growing extremely loyal to you?"
She sounded sad as she admitted, "That’s why this is so hard."
He pressed his forehead against the wall, pleased she’d experienced the growing-close thing too, yet utterly frustrated because there was still nothing to do about it.
"I can’t stop thinking about you," he admitted. "I don’t care about the obstacles. I want to see you again."
She gave a groan. "I don’t think that’s a good idea."
Gnashing his teeth, he said, "Why? Because you think I’m spying on your roommate?"
"Are you?"
He swallowed. "Mia, I’m not using you. I swear. I just want to get to know you."
"And you totally just avoided my question."
"There’s something between us," he pushed. "Every time we’re together …"
"Don’t go there, Drew."
"You already told me you feel it too."
"I’m hanging up now. Don’t call again."
"Mia—"
She hung up, and he cursed, tossing the phone onto his bed.
Chapter Eleven
Though it wasn’t her turn to buy groceries, Mia needed an excuse to get away. Every time the phone rang, she jumped, hoping it wasn’t Drew, yet hoping it was.
She pushed her cart around a corner of the cereal aisle and almost ran smack into an oncoming shopper.
"Sorry," she gasped and stumbled to a stop just in time.
"No problem," a male voice answered. "I should start watching where I’m going one of these days."
She looked up and then up some more. With sandy, blond hair and a healthy tan, the man in front of her pulled his cart back a few inches, giving her room to move past. He was tall, a good six inches taller than Drew.
Gritting her teeth, Mia told herself not to compare. Stop thinking about Drew. But she couldn’t help but notice differences.
A pair of curious brown eyes inspected her. "Go ahead," h
e offered.
She murmured a thank you and dropped her eyes as she skirted around him. He turned to openly inspect her as she went. Not sure what to make of this, she rushed by and hurried down the next aisle, escaping his perusal.
Four years ago, getting checked out wouldn’t have made her so uncomfortable. But these days she was intensely aware of every time male eyes shifted her way. Directly after the funeral, she’d been too steeped in misery to even notice the outside world. But lately, she spotted everything and everyone. Such awareness told her she was finally at that stage, the stage where she was beginning to move on.
Pausing, Mia lifted her face. She was beginning to accept.
No, she thought, becoming panicked. No, she wasn’t ready. She couldn’t accept. She couldn’t let go. What kind of awful person would that make her if she moved on?
Clutching her cart in a death grip, she glanced at the rows of neatly stocked baby food surrounding her. Tears prickled her eyes. Oh, God, she really was moving on.
