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uncertain. "What's the hold up?"
    Derrick shifted to face Allison, his expression taking on a
thunderous scowl. Jabbing a finger in Mia's direction, he said,
"She—"
    Mia cut him off before he could get a full head of steam.
"I don't have any suits that fit," she said, leaving him sputtering,
his finger still jabbing.
    Allison frowned at Derrick, a message flowing between the
two of them that Mia couldn't decipher. Before she could comment, Allison
turned to her, sunny smile renewed.
    "No problem," she said, "I have an extra one
in the car. Be right back!" And she bopped back out of the room before
either of them could speak.
    Silence reigned once more, now accompanied by Derrick's
muffled footsteps as he paced the carpeted floor of her room, agitation in
every line of his body. He was working up an oration on the topic, she knew it.
The habit had given rise to his most hated nickname—The Professor. She'd
watched him practice for debate club just this way, too many times to count.
    The key was not to give him an opening by establishing eye
contact.
    Mia traced the lines on her blue, yellow and white-striped
bedspread, trying not to contemplate squeezing herself into one of Allison's
tiny suits, and kept her eyes firmly away from Derrick.
    When the door from the garage opened and closed again
downstairs, announcing Allison's imminent return, he stopped in his tracks and
drew a deep breath. Against her will, Mia's eyes lifted to meet his gaze, still
burning gold with suppressed anger.
    But when he spoke, he kept his voice low to prevent Allison
from hearing him as she jogged up the steps to the second floor.
    "We're going to discuss this later," he said,
"and you are going shopping. Today.
If I have to drag you to the mall myself."
    Mia didn't answer, merely shifted her gaze gratefully to
Allison when her friend stepped back into the room, beach bag in hand.
    "Out," Allison ordered Derrick. "No boys allowed.
Go get your own suit on."
    Derrick nodded at Allison, singed Mia with a final glare,
and left, his tread heavy on the stairs. Mia took her first full breath since
he'd picked her up off the couch. Her bright, feminine bedroom pulsed around
her, supercharged with masculine energy. Derrick had been in her room before,
hundreds of times, but this time, his essence lingered. It coiled around her,
inside her, throwing everything off kilter. She shivered.
    Oblivious, Allison rummaged in her bag, emerging with two
swimsuits in her hands.
    "Here you go," she said, handing Mia a hot-pink
floral bikini. "The cups on this one are a little bigger. This one's
cuter," she indicated the second bikini, a miniscule navy-and-white
striped number with gold-toned metal rings holding the triangles of cloth
together at the hips and between the breasts, "but the top's pretty
tiny—better for my little boobs."
    Sighing, Mia accepted the floral print. No matter how much
weight she lost, she'd never be as flawlessly gorgeous as her friend, who
maintained her size-two frame by sucking down chocolate shakes and double
cheeseburgers by the dozens.
    If she didn't love Allison so much, she'd hate her.
    Allison claimed to envy Mia's curves, but Mia knew she was
only being nice. It didn't matter what her best friend wore, whether her few
carefully-saved-for designer pieces or her favorite cheap-o sweats, everything
draped perfectly over Allison's modelesque body.
    In fact, Mia and Allison had both modeled in college,
helping to pay tuition. But at a size twelve with double-d cups, Mia had never
told her friend how much she'd hated strolling the catwalk in the plus-sized
model category.
    Mia washed her ruined makeup from her face, and they changed
into the suits side-by-side. Allison's perfect, perky breasts, slender hips and
tiny waist were definitely runway-ready. Mia sighed. Even after losing nearly
thirty pounds, she couldn't seem to break through the size-six barrier. Several
pairs of size-four Paige Verdugo skinny jeans hung, ever hopeful, in