Page 67 of Cinderella Screwed Me Over
Chapter Twenty-three
There were two relationships I tried not to think about—unless it was to remind myself of the pain love could bring. So whenever I started thinking I was an idiot for letting Jake go, I opened up those memories and let the residual heartache wash over me. I even went so far as to break out my case studies.
I stared at Robert’s name until the letters bled together. Before I’d met him, I’d decided all guys were immature idiots. But he was different. I remember thinking it was a miracle that I’d met a mature, amazing, and funny guy.
I thought he might just be the one.
Robin HoodCase Study: Robert/Robin Hood
My Age: 25
I was at The Bullpen Bar with Steph, Nadine, and a few other friends. After giving up on a waiter to come by, I’d left my friends at the table to go get a drink. I was waiting by the packed bar when someone tapped me on the shoulder.
“Hey, you,” a male voice said. “Come look at this.”
Not bothering to glance at him, I said, “I’m sorry, I don’t respond to, ‘hey you.’ Get someone else to look at it.”
“What’s your name?”
I turned back to tell the guy to get lost. But his green eyes, strong jaw, and wavy, blond hair made me rethink blowing him off. It took a few seconds to figure out why he was looking at me, eyebrows raised, like he was waiting for something.Oh, right. He asked me a question.
“Darby. My name’s Darby.”
“Hi, Darby. I’m Robert. Now, will you come look at this for me? It’s pretty important, and my friend and I need an objective eye.” He glanced at the money in my hand. “Afterward, I’ll buy you a drink.”
I eyed him for a moment.What’s the worst that could happen?
“Okay,” I said, backing away from the bar. “Show me what’s so important.”
Robert grabbed my hand and led me across the room. “Don’t you dare touch it, Joe,” he said as we approached a pudgy guy. “I swear if you cheated—”
“I don’t need to cheat,” Joe said. “Because I already won.”
“Darby’s going to judge it.” Robert stopped in front of the dartboard hanging on the wall.
I pointed at it. “This? This is what’s so important?”
“Look, we’ve got fifty bucks on this. Joe thinks—”
“Hey, no biasing her,” Joe said.
“Okay, add up the points of the red darts and the blue darts. I won’t even tell you whose is whose. Then tell us the score.”
The board was older, beat-up. Unlike some of the ones I’d seen, it didn’t have metallic dividers. A few darts had hit right on the line, making it hard to decide what score to go with. Specifically, there was one blue dart between the six-point white and ten-point black. I leaned in and studied it.
Looks more six than ten to me.
“Red’s the winner,” I said.
“No way!” Joe yelled.
Robert shouted, “Suck it!” while pumping his fists in the air. (I know I said mature, and this isn’t exactly a mature moment, but I’ll get to that part later.) He put his arm around me. “Come on, Darby. Let’s get you that drink.”
When I got back to my table a few minutes later, Steph leaned in and whispered, “Who was that guy?”
“His name’s Robert. He needed me to judge a game of darts.”
“Did he get your number?”
