Read Online The Cinderella Project (A Comedy of Love, #1) by Stan Crowe - Free Book Online Page A

inspiring.
    The only comfort I found in films like these was statistical: certain patterns were substantiated by the redundancy, increasing confidence in the validity of those trends.
    At the beginning of the show, Kris made up a little ditty about “Gotta be strong, gotta move on,” to help her get through the hard times. It came across as a half-hearted attempt by the producer to turn the piece into a musical. Luckily, the effort was aborted before the cast voiced any other unfortunate tunes, except that Kris kept singing it through the whole film. After the fifth time, the girls in the apartment were belting it out along with her around mouthfuls of caramel popcorn.
    Highly undignified. Completely hilarious.
    Moiré’s wit made the others ’ jokes look like a 6 th grade talent show. I was shocked to find that most of my notes had centered on her actions, even if I hadn’t named her. Moiré was just so… interesting. So fun and full of life. I felt compelled to pay attention to her and, honestly, I liked it. As the film came to an end, I found myself glancing at her once again. As Kris Kissy uttered the closing line, Moiré must have seen it coming because, right along with our inner-city heroine, Moiré blurted, “Kiss me you fool.” For whatever reason, she turned my way as she did it. Moiré blanched instantly and then looked away. I pretended I hadn’t seen it, but the look on Daisy’s face made it obvious that it had actually happened.
    The closing credits rolled and Tisha got up and turned on the lights. The girls all thanked me for the caramel corn and the good time. When Daisy learned that I was still in need of a VCR, she insisted that I drop by day or night and use hers. Moiré agreed and arrangements were made to come back each night for the rest of the week and finish the course. Despite my initial reservations, I agreed. Once I was through these films, I would be done with that segment of my research and none too soon; I was already cutting it close for defending a dissertation that still wasn’t through the secondary editing phase. With some jovial words of parting, Moiré and I were out the door.
     
    The rest of the week was highly productive. Each day saw a healthy number of test couples. I was within twenty tests of my goal of one-thousand tests by the time I left on Friday afternoon. Moiré had devoured over a dozen romance novels by then and her notes compared favorably with mine. She had finished editing my dissertation and I prepared it for the printer.
    I left the lab every night at 6:30 on the dot, spent time with Ella until 9:00 and then drove across town to where Moiré’s crazy friends were. The girls had taken my mom’s caramel corn recipe and turned it into a sacred ritual that was completed each night before I arrived. In fact, they had renamed it “Cairn corn” and swore some kind of feminine oath to defend the secrets of its tastiness to their graves.
    We’d watch two movies each night (they were all turned into comedies) and then I’d drive home and flop into bed for four, maybe five hours of broken sleep. Despite the late hours and growing fatigue, I was getting excellent notes. Finally, some good trends were emerging—trends that might correlate with future troubles in relationships. Even better, an e-mail showed up on Friday night informing me that the Department had approved enough funding for three grad students for another semester. My name was on the short list for consideration.
    All i n all, it was a fantastic week.
     

 
     
     
    CHAPTER FIVE
     
    “You know, Jim, I might just be willing to spend some alone time with you, one of these days.”
    “What are you talking about , Carol?”
    “We used to do that kind of thing, remember? Long, moonlit walks, holding hands, just being together.”
    “Yeah, and then you married me. I’ve already paid my dues.”
    “Okay, remind me how you still managed to persuade me to have five children with an attitude like