Meet-cutes are supposed to be… cute, right?
A stroll through the park. A lingering stare with a handsome stranger. A sexy little smile that says “Hey, want to ruin each other’s lives in a fun, romantic way?”
Yeah. Not my story. I hit my handsome stranger with my car. Launched him over the hood. Wrecked his shoulder.
And for one horrifying second, I genuinely considered burying him in the woods because I thought he was dead.
Merry freakin’ Christmas to me. We’re a week out from the worst holiday ever created—tinsel, forced family time, aggressively cheerful music. Hard. Pass.
But here’s the thing: December might not suck quite so hard anymore. Because the man I accidentally vehicular–manslaughter-adjacent-ed? He’s annoyingly gorgeous. Surprisingly sweet.
He looks like sin even with his arm in a sling, and flirts like it’s a competitive sport.
And if the sketch on the news is anything to go by, he might also be a charming, infuriating, potential felon-in-hiding.
Which, honestly, might be the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me in this godforsaken month.
Turns out, fate doesn’t always whisper. Sometimes it slams a gorgeous man onto the hood of your car and says, Try again, sweetheart.
