Cinderfella ~A Modern Fairy Tale~

They say that Cinderella was blessed with her prince through her kindness and hard work and a little bit of magic. Well. The magic part's definitely not going to happen for me. Don't mistake me, I'm no Cinderella. But my prince is...


6. Chapter 6

I wake in the morning to the smell of ...something. He comes in with a tray.

"Breakfast in bed. Para mi princesa." On the plate is a mess of egg, tortilla, salsa..and some other stuff I can't recognize.

"What is this?" I ask, confused. I know princesa must be princess, but surely he's not calling me his princess, we've known each other for around a day.

"Chilaquiles," he says with a smile. "Try it, you'll like it. My mother used to make them for me on the weekends."

Right. It's Saturday. I finish breakfast with him prompting me, and it's delicious, just as he's promised. I put down the knife and fork, only noticing then that he's different. He's...clean. Clean shaven. Clean shirt. He looks really nice, his long dark hair neatly tied into a ponytail at the base.

I wonder if he smells good. A weird thought, but suddenly it consumes me before I force it down.

I bring the plate into the kitchen to wash it. To my surprise, the entire apartment is cleaned, and his stuff is put away. I check the time. It's only eight. He must have gotten up early or stayed up late to make sure that it was cleaned. He wasn't lying, he really was a tidy person. Must have been all those years cleaning for his stepmother. He doesn't have a dishwasher, so I hand wash it and neatly put it away.

"It's funny how much stuff you can get at the 99 cent store," he remarks from behind me, startling me.

"Don't do that again!" I shriek.


"Sneak up behind me," I gasp.

He grimaces. 

"Sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you."

We're awkward again, so I try to change the subject.

"Yeah, I know, there was one that accepted food stamps that I went to as a kid."

He nods, and I know he understands. It's refreshing, to meet someone who gets it. My old friends and parents friends didn't. They were preoccupied with outdoing each other, with outdoing me. It was always a competition, to mask their insecurities.

"So, um, can I stay here longer?" I ask, saying the worry that's been on my mind since leaving.

"Of course. I would never cast you out, you're a great roommate."

A great roommate, that he asked on a date? The blurriness of the lines of our relationship bothers me. Are we in a relationship? Or just friends? Or does he want to be more? I can't believe I'm even thinking about this when I've only known him for a day, but it feels as though I've known him for centuries. I want it to be clear, to know exactly what he wants us to be but I'm scared. All I know is I've never felt this way about anyone else.

I scrub a pot while he plays his guitar. I don't know what he's singing but it sounds good so I hum along, and he stops.

"You have a beautiful voice."

I brush away a piece of loose hair, and smile shyly.

"Thanks. It's just for fun though." 

He plays a different song, one that I know the lyrics to, and I sing softly under my breath as I scrub.

He stops abruptly.

"Doesn't singing make it easier?"

I smile.

"Yeah, it preoccupies me so I'm not focusing on the fact that yesterday I had servants and today I'm a scullery maid." I'm joking, but he grows tight lipped and looks away.

"I'm sorry." 

"What for? I was joking. I chose this, and you know it." I lift up my soapy hands and splash him. He yelps and then starts laughing again.

He comes close to me, close enough that I can see his stubble that he missed while shaving, and then before I know it, he's pressing his lips against mine softly.


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