I'm an idiot. I wasted time being scared to make a play for a total hottie and now I think it may be too late.

What the hell was wrong with me? How could I have been so dumb?
I was blind, that's for sure, and I'll admit, maybe a little shy too.

He flirted shamelessly with me, and all I could muster were unenthusiastic responses.
I guess I can't blame him for being discouraged.

I took it for granted that he'd be there if I happened to change my fickle, immature mind, but now it looks like he has grown tired of my coyness, and moved on to greener pastures.

I made too much of it. It didn't have to be a big deal, it could have just been a seasonal romance, a beautiful fling to satisfy our curiosity, but I overanalysed the situation.
I made excuses not to be attracted to him: his head's too big, he's got a dorky name, his voice sounds feminine....

What I didn't realise was that those descriptions would no longer apply to him, once I had been exposed to his true colours:

He's intelligent, handsome, polite, fun-loving, focused, athletic, talented, rhythmic (he can dance, y'all!), and undeniably sexy.

I messed up big time. But maybe, just maybe, I can fix this.

Where the hell's my push-up bra?


*You've been reading an excerpt from my upcoming novel entitled The Origin of The Femme Fatale