Oh damn. He’d called me out on a lie. And double damn because I also sang with the kids on Glee. Hopefully he couldn’t hear me but he wasn’t wrong. LaTanya thought she was Patti LaBelle’s more talented sister. She diva’ed her way through every episode of Glee that we’d watched together. And we’d watched every episode of Glee together.

“Um…” I repeated, my eyes sliding to the mirror, but I wish they hadn’t because I could see his broad shoulders and muscled back leading to his slim hips. I could also see him straightening, which meant I had his full attention. Not that I didn’t have it before, just that now I really had it.

“Mara,” I watched him call, my eyes at the mirror and they slid back to his then he kept talking. “What I’m sayin’ is, I get it that you’re shy…”

Oh God. Totally a police detective. He had me figured out.

He moved his body closer and kept speaking. I held my breath as he held my gaze. “But what I want you to know is that I’d like you to come over, but because you’re shy, you gotta walk that breezeway, sweetheart. I’m tellin’ you you’re welcome, but I made the first move, you need to make the next one. You with me here?”

No. No, I wasn’t with him. He’d made the first move? What move?

And he’d called me sweetheart, which made the belly whoosh move through me like a tidal wave.

I was pretty certain I was going to die right there, totally swept away.

Then it I hit me as I stared into his beautiful eyes. They were so dark brown they seemed fathomless, and if I wasn’t careful, I would drown in them. But I was careful and I knew who I was and what zone I lived in. So when it hit me, I understood.

Derek and LaTanya were both Nines. Brent and Bradon were firm at Eight Point Fives in the gay world, the straight world or an alien world (both Brent and Bradon were gorgeous, very cool and very, very nice). But they all liked me. We were not only neighbors, we were good friends. And Mitch had been living across the way from me for four years. He was a good guy. He fixed faucets. He smiled warmly.

Therefore, he was trying to be a good neighbor and maybe even a friend.

“I’m with you,” I whispered.

He came closer and when he spoke his voice dipped lower. “That mean you’re gonna knock on the door tellin’ me you’re makin’ pizza sometime soon?”

“My barbeque chicken pizza takes planning and preparation,” I explained. His eyes flashed and I finished, “It’d have to be this Saturday, when I have a day off.”