I’m not perfect. I know that. My curves have curves, and I’d rather bury my nose in a book than have a conversation with a real live person. Especially one who really might be perfect.
Connor was the guy in high school. The one everyone wanted to be friends with. The guy every girl fantasized about. The guy who didn’t even know I existed. It didn’t really matter, though. High school was forever ago, and I was okay with who I was. Even if I could stand a few less curves.
So, why is Connor asking me to dance? And why is he showing up at my work? And why am I having such a hard time saying no to his sweet words and even sweeter kisses?
It can’t be real. Girls like me don’t end up with guys like him. Do they?