Cinderella Screwed Me Over

My Age: 24

Stephanie and I had lived in a tiny, run-down apartment the entire time we were going through college, so after a few years in the work force, we decided it was time to get a place that didn’t smell like cat pee and curry. Drew and Devin, my twin stepbrothers, were helping Steph and me haul all of our furniture and boxes into our new place.

After unloading the truck, Drew, Devin, and Stephanie went on a food run. I had the doors and window to our apartment open, airing it out. I turned on my iPod and started moving boxes around. I guess I got a little carried away with the singing. I was belting out the lyrics along with my music when I looked up and saw a guy standing outside my door. He had an athletic build, blond hair, and a big grin.

Before I could figure out whether to wave or run and hide, Drew, Devin, and Stephanie showed up with the food, and he walked on past our open door.

A week later, I ran into him at the mailboxes.

“Hey, you’re the singing chick,” he said. “Nice voice, by the way.”

I stood there staring, unable to say a word.

“I’m Evan. I’m just a few doors down, so if you ever need anything…” His eyebrows drew together and he gave this adorable half-shrug thing. “Well, I probably won’t have it—our apartment’s pretty bare, actually. But try the next door over because that lady’s really nice.”

I smiled, still working on forming words. Finally, I got a few out. “Thanks for the tip. I’m Darby, by the way.”

He gave me The Nod. “I’m sure I’ll see you around.”

After that, we bumped into each other on a regular basis: at the pool, the laundry room, while taking the stairs instead of the elevator. We’d have short conversations about our days; laugh about Gertrude, the old lady who walked her cat on a leash; or complain about the neighbor who cooked something that smelled awful and permeated our half of the building. Of all the people who lived in my complex—except Steph, of course, who was logging so many hours at her job I hardly saw her—I knew Evan the best. Things were easy between us. We clicked.

One night, after an especially stressful day at work, I went down to soak in the hot tub. The jets shut off, and I sat there with my eyes closed, trying to gather the energy to get out and restart them. Before I’d psyched myself up to brave the cold air, the bubbles started again. I opened my eyes to see who I’d be sharing the hot tub with.

Evan stepped into the bubbling water. “Hey, Darby. How’s it going?”

“Oh, you know, stressful day, so I’m unwinding.”

“I had the same idea after unloading trucks all day.” Evan smiled at me. “Not many people come out in this weather.”

I glanced up at the sky and took a deep breath of the fresh air that contained the promise of rain. “I like being in the hot tub when it’s like this.”

When I looked back down, Evan was right next to me. “I keep almost asking you out, then chickening out,” he said.

I swallowed, staring at the way the steam rose off his body and swirled through the air around us. “You shouldn’t. Chicken out, I mean.”

He put his arms around me and we spent the rest of the night kissing in the hot tub. I know, every sleazy reality show contains a hot-tub make-out—or ten. Believe me, the next morning I was wondering if that was all it would ever be. Then I started stressing about how I was going to act when I saw him again.

Pulling into our apartment complex after work the next day, I noticed his truck in the parking lot. I debated between the elevator and stairs for a few minutes, wondering which one might bring me face-to-face with Evan, and then trying to figure out if I wanted to be face-to-face with him. In the end, I took the stairs. I scurried past his door and locked myself in my apartment.

I clicked on the television and flipped through the menu. Twenty minutes of channel surfing later, a knock sounded on my door. I peered through my peephole and saw Evan on the other side, holding a pizza box.

I ran a hand through my hair before pulling open the door.

“Hey, I was thinking we could eat some pizza and hang out,” Evan said.

My heart skipped a couple beats. It wasn’t a one-night thing! I didn’t belong on an episode of The Bachelor, the discarded girl who didn’t get a rose—or a greasy slice of pepperoni, as it were. I stepped aside and motioned for him to come in. We ate pizza, then kissed some more.

From then on, we hung out more often than not. We cooked dinner together, went to movies, and made frequent visits to the hot tub. Before long, the entire apartment complex knew we were together. It was pretty convenient, being able to get home from his place in under a minute.

And then—you know how in The Little Mermaid the shell on Ursula’s (disguised as Vanessa’s) chest hypnotized Prince Eric? Other girls’ chests hypnotized Evan. I saw him ogling them all the time. I didn’t love it, but you know, I still took a moment to admire a cute guy when I encountered one. Much more subtly, but still. And it wasn’t like he forgot to check me out, either—he always told me I looked hot.

A couple months in, Evan started pulling away, spending less time with me and saying he needed to get up early. Fine. I was busy, too.

When I ran into him in the hallway one day, he told me he needed a break from us. He said we’d gone so fast, living next door and all, and he wasn’t ready for that big of a commitment.

The confusing part about the whole I-need-a-break speech was that it made it sound like we might resume the relationship, even though deep down, I knew things were over. Still, when a week later I ran into him and he had his arm around another girl, I felt a little blindsided. According to his roommate, Evan’s new girlfriend was a singer in a local band, and he was completely mesmerized by her.

Three months later—while I was collecting the giant stack of bills from my mailbox—he told me he was getting married.

I lost my voice again. I tried to nod like I was fine. I’d been running into her more and more, though. When I left for work, she was there in the hall, kissing him good-bye. She was in the laundry room when I tried to do my laundry. She always gave me dirty looks, too, simply because I was his ex. She was the one who’d lured him away; I don’t know why I got the dirty looks.

The night after he confessed he was engaged, I went downstairs to soak in the hot tub. And there Evan and his new fiancee were, making out like we used to.

As far as I know, no sea creatures interrupted their wedding.

Of all the princes, Prince Eric used to be one of my favorites. When you think about it, though, he fell in love with a voice—with an idea. And I can’t hold much against Ariel, because she was young and naive and easily amused by things like forks. At least Disney tried to make the ending happy. In the original story, she turned into sea foam. But see, if I’d watched the original growing up, maybe I wouldn’t have had such high hopes. Maybe I wouldn’t have expected a guy to accept all my quirks, love me for me, and ride out the storm together, no matter what life tried to throw at us.

Time Wasted: Three months with him; four months trying to avoid him and his new girlfriend/eventual fiancee.

Lessons Learned:

Guys who ogle shamelessly must not be all that satisfied with what’s in front of them.

Hot tub hookups are always, always a bad idea.

Never date anyone who you’ll be forced to run into on a regular basis if it goes wrong.

Chapter Four

I groaned as I approached Blue. It was the last place I wanted to be, but I’d been unable to convince Mrs. Crabtree to meet for lunch somewhere else—I should’ve never brought her here for the lamb the first time, because now she was hooked.

I already had a headache from my marathon work meeting with my boss, Patricia, that morning, where