Beauty and the Beast Case Study: Boone/The Beast

My Age: 19

I started college with the feeling that no matter who I met, he’d never be as good as Gil. In a lot of ways, this was true. Still, there comes a point when you’ve got to try to move on.

Boone was in one of my study groups sophomore year. The first time I met him, I wouldn’t have used the words cute, hot, or any other flattering word to describe him. He had a big nose and out-of-control, dark hair that stuck in all directions. But there was something about him—the whole tortured-artist thing—that drew me in.

We started flirting and he seemed better-looking every time I saw him. He took me to his place and showed me his paintings. His artwork had this deep, disturbing quality. The nightmare images displayed pain, anger, and suffering. Simply looking at them made me feel a mix of emotions, and I thought that was powerful.

After dropping a few hints that I was into him, I still couldn’t tell how he felt about me. So one night when we were studying, I finally got the courage to say something. “Boone, if I told you I was interested in being more than friends, how would you take that?”

He stared at me like I’d asked him to travel to the moon with me.

My cheeks blazed. “Forget it.” I started gathering my books, desperate to get away from the humiliation.

Boone put his hand on my wrist. “Why would you like me? You’re really pretty. And smart. And I’m just…not those things.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit. I think you’re funny, I like hanging out with you, and your artwork is amazing.”

He slowly leaned in and we shared an awkward, all-open-mouth first kiss. It got better over time. Before long, we went everywhere together. But the more time I spent with him, the more I saw him lose his temper. When his painting wasn’t going well, he’d throw paintbrushes and yell; he had several arguments with his roommates; his road rage was bad enough I started driving everywhere we went. Then he’d always calm down and go back to the guy I knew.

He began calling all the time to “check in.” Being somewhere he didn’t think I should be started an argument. If I ever talked to another guy at a party, on campus, or in class, he’d go off about it. He started throwing punches at other guys on a regular basis. Eventually, the fight would be broken up. Afterward, we’d go back to his or my place and I’d ice his bruises, soak his cuts, and he’d tell me that he couldn’t stand the thought of losing me. I felt like if I just stuck by his side, he’d see that I cared about him, and he’d stop fighting everyone else.

Instead of getting better, it got worse.

“Did you drink all of the juice?” Boone asked one day while we were at his apartment.

I looked up from my book. “No. I haven’t touched the juice. Didn’t you finish it off yesterday?”

“I think I would’ve remembered that. You think I’m stupid?”

I stood and hugged my book to my chest. “I’m not going to sit here and let you yell at me. I don’t deserve to be treated like that.”

“There you go, overreacting like you always do. I swear, you make every little thing into a big deal.”

“I think you yelling at me over juice is a big deal.” Every time I said anything, he acted like I was completely crazy. Like I was some psycho chick who was irrational. The guy who yelled at me over juice insisted I was irrational. “I’m going home. Call me when you decide to stop being a jerk.”

I opened the door, but he slammed it closed from behind me and put his foot in the way, so I couldn’t pull it open again. I twisted to face him. “Come on, Boone. Move so I can go.”

“You leave, you leave for good.”

I stared at him, my heart racing. “I guess this is good-bye forever, then.”

He punched the door and I flinched, thinking I was next. He let out a stream of profanities, then stormed back to his room.

The next weekend I was at a party with Stephanie, talking to Carlos, who lived in our same building. I saw Boone walk in and immediately panicked. He met my gaze from across the room and started toward us. My pulse sped up with each step that brought him closer.

“Who’s this?” he asked, glaring at Carlos.

“He’s just a friend,” I said.

Boone stepped closer to Carlos, getting in his face. “Why are you all over my girlfriend?”

“Calm down, dude,” Carlos said. “Darby and I are just talking.”

“That’s the problem. You need to stop.”

I tried to sound as firm as I could. “You need to stop, Boone. I’m not your girlfriend anymore, and if you’re going to be like this, you need to leave.”

Boone took a few steps away from us and I let out a shaky breath.

Carlos put his hand on my shoulder. “You okay?”

Boone glanced back, saw the contact, and went crazy. He charged Carlos, throwing wild fists through the air. Unfortunately for Boone, he finally picked on someone too big. Carlos’s main hobby was working out—at a boxing gym—and Boone was no match. It took several people to break up the fight, and by the time they did, Boone’s nose was gushing blood, and I suspected he’d have a black eye, if not two.

I stared at him, thinking that he’d gotten uglier and uglier over the past few months. And yeah, that does kind of happen in Beauty and the Beast, too. All that time spent waiting for the prince, and then he turns human and you think, man, he was cuter as an animal. Who knew you’d be asking for bestiality in the end?

My grandma always hated the story, claiming it was ridiculous that a pretty girl would fall for a beast. It used to be one of my favorites, though—one of those true-love-will-fix-anything stories. Belle was so patient and overlooked his temper, even ignoring the fact that he almost killed her dad and imprisoned her. I’m not sure it’s a good idea to make girls think they can heal a guy with love and patience, though. Because most guys don’t ever change. At least in the movie, the beast really does learn to love, and his mean streak is broken. I don’t know if Boone ever had his mean streak broken, but I knew I couldn’t stick around to find out.

Time Wasted: Three and a half months

Lessons Learned:

Getting mad once in a while is normal. Flying off the handle over every little thing is a sign to run.

No aggressive or overly jealous guys.

No letting a guy walk all over you.

You can’t fix people. They have to learn to fix themselves.

Chapter Fifteen

Unable to concentrate on work, I sat at my desk, drumming my fingers along the top of it. I imagined Jake was starting to wonder what he’d gotten himself into with me. I probably shouldn’t have made that joke about punching Karl. Especially since he’d heard the story about me slapping Ralph. But he got that I was kidding, right? I’d even blown him a kiss to show him he was still the guy for me. I mean, if I were choosing guys. Which I…wasn’t? No. Jake and I were free agents, keeping everything light. Still, I wanted to give him a full explanation. If the tables were reversed, I know I’d want one.

I waited until I was sure Jake would be awake and called his cell. The call rolled to voice mail, so I cleared my throat, readying myself to leave a message. “Hey, it’s me.” I hated it when people said that. Most of the time I didn’t know who it was until halfway through the message. “I guess that’s pretty arrogant, assuming you’ll recognize my voice. Or maybe I’m already programmed into your phone. Not that I’m saying…” I wanted to start over. Be calm and collected. “Anyway, it’s Darby. Who else would leave you a rambling message without ever getting to the point? The point is give me a call. If you want to. Last night was crazy, and I just wanted to tell you that—”

A loud beep cut me off.

Awesome. I left a drunken message without the benefit of actually being drunk.

Calling back to finish seemed extra desperate. Especially if he’d been screening me on purpose.

I tossed my phone on my desk and ran my hands over my face. “Urgh. This is why I don’t do relationships.”

My phone chirped and I picked it back up. A text from an unfamiliar number. When I opened it, I saw a picture of Karl. Underneath his eye was a line of purple and red. At least it wasn’t swollen shut.

Thought you’d enjoy this. Everyone at the office sure is. They’re all so confused when I say I got it playing pool. They seem to like “got into a bar brawl because of a girl” much better.

My fingers flew over my keypad.

I think it’s only considered a brawl if two people are involved. You were more like a punching bag for a drunk guy because of a girl.

I hit send, then set down my phone and opened up my files for Mrs. Crabtree. Another chirp caught my attention. Karl had sent a message back.

Yeah, I like my version better. I guess you and I just communicate differently.

I laughed and then sent another message:

I swear I heard this really smart person say that men and women couldn’t communicate very well… I better get to work. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you around.

I was surprised how much I’d ended up liking Karl by the end of last night. While I knew Stephanie had initially set us up hoping for a romance, that kind of spark wasn’t there. But I thought we might get to be friends eventually. It’d be nice to have him to talk to at all of Anthony and Stephanie’s upcoming wedding events. And even though I still wasn’t totally sold on the marriage counseling thing, he did see a lot of different types of couples, and it gave me hope that he thought Anthony and Stephanie would make it. Regardless of my jaded stance on forever love, I really wanted them to be one of those couples who defied the odds.

And if they can make it… I thought of Jake, the way I seemed to be doing more often than not lately. I could feel a glimmer of hope trying to wedge its way into my heart, whispering that maybe this time, it could actually be different.

Don’t do it. Hope only leads to depression.

But it was already giving me that warm, light feeling. Steph was right. I didn’t want to miss the puppy-love phase.

I wanted to dive in and enjoy it.

Patricia charged into my office, dousing all the happy vibes with her stern expression. “Did you and Nadine land that account yesterday?”

“Yes.”

“Then where’s the contract? I don’t have it yet.”

I was pretty sure Nadine had it, but not 100 percent sure, so this was one of those lose-lose moments, where no matter what I said, it made me look like I didn’t know what was going on. “I’ll get right on it.”

She stared at me for long enough that it became uncomfortable, then sighed in that I-work-with-idiots way. I had a feeling that this was going to be a long day.

…

I shifted my bag of groceries to the other hand and dug through my purse to get my ringing phone. I glanced at the display. Jake.

“You just wanted to tell me what?” Jake said when I answered.

“Huh?” I asked.

“Your message. It cut out.”

I readjusted my groceries and my cell phone slipped from my shoulder and clattered to the floor. Instead of dropping everything, I set my groceries in front of my door and picked my phone back up, relieved to see my case and screen were still intact. “Jake?”

“Yeah.”

“Sorry, I dropped my phone. Anyway, I guess I owe you a story. What are you doing tonight?” Work was extra crappy today, and I wanted nothing more than to kick back with Jake and forget about everything else for a while.

“Things are crazy here at Blue, so I’ll be working even later than usual.”

I wasn’t sure if he was brushing me off. “Okay. Well, good luck with that.”

A loud banging noise came across the line, accompanied by yelling. Someone next to Jake wasn’t happy with whatever was going on. “Another problem just came up. I’ve gotta go.”

“Okay, I’ll talk to you later, then.” I hung up and frowned at my groceries. It seemed like I’d made a big deal about a relationship that wasn’t even happening. My heart sank. Had I read him wrong? He did sound busy, and maybe that was all it was. I was just taking it harder because of the stress at work—that had to be it.

Stupid hope. I knew it’d bite me in the butt if I let it slip in.

I unlocked my door and picked up my bag. I wouldn’t let myself start analyzing or stare at the phone, waiting for him to call. I’d invited him to hang out, and he’d declined.