AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I exhale. “Sorry. I just—”
“It’s okay. I shouldn’t have brought it up.”
A large lump forms in my throat as I manage a nod. What I’m acknowledging, I’m not really sure.
A decade after his death, Drew’s condolences still sting like my dad passed yesterday. But they don’t bother me the way some people’s do. Or did. Most people seem to assume there’s an expiration date for grief. That after a set amount of time, you should no longer experience it. Nothing in Drew’s expression says that.
“Your total is sixty-three forty-five.”
I jerk, having totally forgotten we’re standing in the checkout of the supermarket. Mostly alone, but not entirely. Drew recovers more gracefully, nodding at the cashier as he pulls out a credit card from his wallet and taps the machine to pay.
The cashier—a gangly guy who looks to be in high school—alternates between glancing at the computer screen and at Drew. I steal a look as well, only to find out Drew’s eyes are already on me.
Quickly, I glance away, my cheeks warming without permission.
He’s just nice, I tell myself. I got my hopes up about Drew Halifax once before. Then, they crashed as I watched my little sister hang all over him. Being back here is messing with my head.
“Thanks,” Drew says as his receipt is handed over.
“Can I get an autograph?” is the response. The question comes out more likecan-I-get-an-autograph, a rushed exhale that sounds like a burst of courage. And that also explains the slow speed of the line.
“Of course.”
I’m unsurprised by Drew’s answer. He seems like the sort of celebrity who would see fans as a responsibility instead of an inconvenience.
I watch as Drew grabs the pen from the weekly specials clipboard and scribbles his signature on the back of the receipt. “What’s your name?”
“Dustin.”
Drew addsTo Dustinabove his signature before handing the slip of paper back to the boy.
The cashier takes the receipt like it’s a breakable object. “Thank yousomuch.”
Drew smiles before leaning down. Too late, I realize what he’s reaching for.
The wayward lime that I forgot about as soon as I saw him.
“I can get—” I step forward at the same moment he straightens.
Suddenly, we’re close—tooclose. I can find the small freckle just to the left of his bottom lip. Spot the slight bump on the bridge of his nose that, if I had to guess, was put there by a hockey puck. Smell his cologne, some heady combination of sandalwood and cedar.
Drew sets the lime on the counter. I hurriedly step away from him and glance at the green fruit. I doubt the linoleum floor is cleaned very often, but the citrus appears unscathed. Winding my way back through the store to grab a new one doesn’t sound appealing. Tequila will get me drunk either way.
“Thanks.”
Drew nods, the corner of his mouth curling up as he takes inventory of the other two items I’m clutching. His purchases are already bagged, so I can’t return the favor. I doubthe’sjust buying alcohol and junk food, though.
I don’t know much about hockey.
Idoknow it’s not played professionally during the summer.
But despite being out of season, Drew’s physique is impressive. He’s wearing a pair of mesh basketball shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers. None of it covers the definition of his calves or the bulge of his biceps, which make it obvious he’s in excellent physical shape.
I add the second lime, bag of chips, and bottle of tequila to the lime already set on the counter. The cashier rings up my items slowly, distracted by glancing at Drew, which is terrific for my ego.
Drew picked up his bag of groceries, but hasn’t walked away. I steal peeks at him while my purchases are scanned. He’s looking at his phone, which he must have pulled out of his pocket, brow furrowed as he swipes at the screen.
And…waitingfor me? Maybe?
