Description
Six years ago, at a random diner, I met a stranger and he became the one who got away — or more correctly, the one who didn’t show up.
A small piece of advice from me to you: if you haven’t dated, touched, or kissed a guy in years and years… do not try to crawl away or hide from the one who got away. It’s not a good look.
William Carter, the stranger I’d met six years earlier, was the last person I’d have imagined ever seeing at my dad’s firm, where I work. While I panic and fight off the butterflies in my stomach and generally struggle to act normal, I realize he doesn’t even remember me. I’m not sure whether I should feel relieved or heartbroken. Things get worse when I learn we’ll need to work in close quarters, but at least I tell him right away that I don’t have a crush on him anymore. Just in case he gets any ideas.
I’m in the process of writing lists and making serious changes in my life because I’ve decided I’m ready to be the heroine of my own story; having William just a breath away is not helping. Especially when things shift between us and we start to make eye contact in meetings. Then he shows up in places I least expect him to — as in blind dates and sex clubs. He also brings me cheese because he knows how much I like it, and there are secret notes he leaves in my office. If you were wondering, I still don’t have a crush on him. Nope.
Even though I promised myself I’d never wait around for another guy and postpone my own life, I’m afraid William Carter, who looks at me as if I’m his and was always supposed to be his, might ruin my hopeful plans. And quite possibly ruin me for any other guy, since I’m craving his touch like I’ve never craved anything before. But we both know we’re a losing game, so we keep admitting that neither one of us has a crush on the other.
Not anymore. Not at all. Not even a little bit.
More Like This
