Charlie, Love and Clichés
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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 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 ago was the last person I’d imagine ever seeing at my dad’s firm where I work. While I panic and fight off the butterflies in my stomach and in general struggle to act normal, I realize he doesn’t even remember me. I’m not sure if I should feel relieved or heartbroken. Things get worse when I learn we’ll need to work in close quarters to each other, but at least I let him know that I don’t have a crush on him anymore right away. Just in case he gets any ideas.
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