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KATE
And the awardfor most likely to scare a creepy-looking holy man goes to me,I mused, as I browsed the shelves of Rachel's Market for cough syrup. Usually, I had the creepers coming after me, but it seemed that my pajamas and four-days-unwashed blonde hair had finally done the trick. Every time I noticed the guy wearing baggy holy-man clothes, he immediately turned down another aisle as if he couldn't bear to look at me.
Apparently, he wasn't interested in girls who looked like death to join his cult.
My gaze swept across the shelf until it landed on the glorious dark blue liquid that would finally allow me to get some sleep. I was tempted to open the bottle right there and take a swig so its magical powers could start working and allow my stupid cold to disappear for the night. But I decided against it.
Someone would probably report me for stealing it, even if the store was almost empty at eleven-thirty at night.
The man peeked his head around the corner, his frizzy long hair hiding half his face. I looked away, not wanting to scare him with my wretched appearance again.
I dropped the cough syrup into my basket, atop a pile of cough drops, then walked to the end of the aisle to grab a gallon of chocolate milk. Chocolate milk always made things better.
When I made it to the refrigerator section, Frizzy Guy was looking at the almond milk. Should I risk having him bolt away again? Did I really need my chocolate fix this late at night?
Yes. Chocolate would definitely solve all my problems.
So I waited for the holy man to make his selection. Hopefully, he wouldn't get too scared when he discovered I'd crept up right behind him. Though scaring him might actually be fun.
I was just about to call out "Boo!" when he reached into the fridge. He brought out a carton of unsweetened almond milk—of course he was above having sugar—and stepped back, knocking into my basket.
"Oh, sorry," he quickly said, turning to face me.
And when he looked at my face, his posture immediately stiffened.
Wow, I must look even worse than I thought. I’d startled him so badly that he was now frozen to his spot.
It was then that I took a moment to really study him.
He looked much taller and younger up close. And were those baggy clothes hiding a muscular physique? His tanned cheekbones were smooth, not wrinkly like I'd imagined they'd be.
And part of his beard was falling off?
What the—?
This may be L.A., but what in the world was going on with this guy? Was he some sort of psycho method actor?
My eyes met the man's deep blue ones. And recognition slowly washed over me. I could never forget those eyes; I'd lost myself in them so many times growing up. This holy man was not a stranger at all. It was my older brother Aiden's best friend.
His extremely good-looking best friend whom I hadn't seen in person since Aiden's funeral seven years ago.
"Drew?" I asked. "Is that you?" How had I not recognized him before?
A finger flew to his mouth. "Shhh. Don't say my name out loud." He glanced around to make sure no one had heard.
"What's going on? Why are you dressed like that?"
"It's my disguise," he whispered. "I didn't want anyone to know who I was."
"Well, it worked," I said.
Drew shrugged, lifting the part of his beard that was falling off and pushing it back against his chin. "I've been dodging a group of girls for the last ten minutes. I thought I might have seen you, but I wasn't quite sure. I mean, it's been a while, and I've never seen you so…um…so…"
"You've never seen me so gross?" I finished for him. Why did I have to run into him when I looked like death?
"That's not what I was going to say."
"Sure."
