Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 147128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147128 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 736(@200wpm)___ 589(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
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.
While I’m in the process of writing lists and making serious changes in my life, because I decide I’m ready to be the heroine in my own story; having William just a breath away is not helping things. 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 gives 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 though. Nope.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
1 Charlie
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When I woke up that morning, I didn’t think I’d be on my hands and knees, crawling around in the office like an idiot – with balloons tied to my wrist, no less. Trying my absolute hardest to make sure he – or as he was known among my friends, ‘the diner guy’ – wouldn’t see me.
It bears repeating. With balloons attached to my wrist. Professional, right? That’s me. Charlie Davis.
It was supposed to be a completely ordinary Monday morning. Nothing more, nothing less. Just as ordinary as the rest of my days, weeks and… well, life.
Wake up.
Make your bed.
Jump in the shower.
Get out of the shower, realize what time it is and then just start running around, as if finding what to wear for work is a completely new concept rather than something you do every day. And then, of course, rush through the New York streets to work at your dad’s crisis management company.
At twenty-five years old, my life had already turned into a boring routine. Go to work, come home, sleep and repeat. Maybe throw in an after-work drink with Rick and Gayle once or twice a week, but even that was too far and between.
I was done with it. Truthfully, I’d been done with it for a while, but I was done done with it this time around, and I was determined to do something. Moving away from New York had to be the first thing on the list. It would change my life drastically. I knew it. Everybody knew it. Get away, run away – whatever you want to call it – I needed to move. I was hoping that would be the first step to a better life for myself.
Technically there was no list just yet, but when I did finally write down the things that were on my mind, moving would be the top priority. The only problem was I’d talked about it so much and yet had done nothing, so nobody tended to believe me whenever I said I was going to move. But this time I was serious about it. Being unapologetically honest was going to be the next thing on the list. It was going to be a great beginning. A new start to my life.
The only difference in my schedule for this particular Monday was that instead of heading straight to work, I was supposed to drop by the bakery and pick up a cake for Rob, who was having his last day at the office. And, maybe if I had enough time, some fun balloons. For the cake, we collected money at the office, but the balloons were going to be my little touch to put a smile on Rob’s face, because he was one of the few people I actually enjoyed being around at the office and he had a ready smile for everyone. Not to mention he often played referee between me and my dad and was almost like an uncle to me.
And how was I supposed to know what a terrible, horrible idea it was to volunteer to do these things when I woke up that morning?
As the rain started to get more determined to soak me through to my bones, I power-walked the last two blocks from the bakery and, ignoring all the honks and shouts that accentuated New York, ran across the street with my huge box of cake, my umbrella which I used to protect the cake – at least I had my priorities straight – and the balloons. The latter were bound to my wrist, bouncing wildly while I was dripping water from head to toe.
As soon as I was inside the building I worked at, I released a long breath. I successfully fought the urge to shake myself like a dog to get rid of all the water clinging to my skin.
I glanced around and headed straight for the empty reception desk. Holding the cake box with one hand, I did my best to wipe the water from my eyes so I could at least avoid bumping into anyone. A quick glance at my fingers confirmed my suspicions about the fate of my mascara, but I still managed to plaster a smile on my face for all the people giving me strange looks.
Losing the smile when I reached my destination, I put the cake on the reception desk. Catching my reflection in the mirror behind it, I let out a loud groan.
‘Jesus’, I whispered, having a hard time looking away from the mess that was me. Who would’ve thought putting on mascara just an hour before could become such a colossal mistake?
Shaking my head in wonder, I pushed away all the hair that was stuck to my face and leaned a little further forward to take a good look at myself. Unsurprisingly, the view didn’t get any better. He is going to kill me, I thought, thinking of my dad. Giving up on my reflection, I started to wring some of the water out of my hair, then started to furiously rub under my eyes to remove the mascara stains, causing the balloons to dance all over, getting the attention of even more people.