She's With Stupid Read online

  Then Lana had convinced her to go to Emilie’s school in order to force some kind of airy-fairy, west coast-hippie “cleansing, revelatory discussion” about her past with Ethan. It had certainly been revelatory. Not only had Emilie finally explained what had happened between them all those years ago, she had cried, which was a very non-Emilie thing to do. The look on her face when she had spoken about that summer day by the lake had been nothing less than tragic.

  At least now Kate knew why her ass of a cousin had always avoided her questions about the past just as staunchly as Emilie did. He’d known she would pound his nuts with a bowling ball for being such a stupid, arrogant boy.

  Kate knew Ethan well enough to know that he had not run away for the reasons Emilie believed he had, though. She and Lana were convinced that Ethan had loved Emilie just as much as Emilie had loved him. However, being male and therefore fundamentally dim-witted about certain things, he had been absolutely terrified of his feelings. And instead of manning up and talking to Emilie about it, he had just walked away, his rash actions wreaking far more damage than his boy-brain could have anticipated.

  After that emotionally draining story and an abbreviated “okay-so-that-just-happened” session with Lana, Kate trekked back to school while Lana headed off to work. Then, after a full afternoon of classes that did not end until six p.m., Kate had arrived home to a pitch black house to find Cheese-Head sitting on the living room couch “cooking” on the Wii. The only light in the whole place had been coming from the TV, causing Will to look like a creepy, unwashed old man and giving Kate a scary heads-up of what she was going to be coming home to for the next forty years.

  To put icing on the unbaked cake that was her day, Will had informed her that he was “awful busy” at the drugstore where he worked as a cashier and occasional stock-boy, and, therefore, he could not go to register for wedding presents on any other night but this one. When she had helpfully suggested that she could take care of the registry stuff on her own, Will had thrown a toddler-sized tantrum.

  “You are so selfish, Kate,” he had whined. “You never want to do anything with me. I want to register, too! It’s my wedding, too! Waah-waah-waah. Boo-hoo-hoo.”

  After a forty-five minute lecture on all the ways she liked to ostracize him, Kate had finally capitulated. “Okay, fine,” she had said magnanimously. “Let’s go to the mall and get this over with.”

  Will looked at her like she had sprouted an extra limb. “We aren’t going to register at the mall. We are going to register at Big Al’s Super SuperMart. In case you’d forgotten, my family can’t afford anything but Big Al’s Super SuperMart.”

  Kate had bitten her tongue till it bled in order to prevent herself from reminding him that his succubus mother was now sucking the life out of a very wealthy man, so she could probably manage to buy them a toaster from Macy’s. She also refrained from reminding him that the only other family member he was on speaking terms with was his sister, and since she and her five children were currently shacking up with the succubus and her sugar daddy, she could sign her name to the damn toaster.

  Swallowing the tinny taste of rage, she had patiently replied, “Well then, I guess we can register at both places.”

  “Noooo,” whimpered Stupid. “I only wanna register at Big Al’s Super SuperMart! This wedding isn’t only about you. We never do what I wanna do.”

  Kate had concluded, with growing alarm, that she was marrying a baby chimp and was increasingly depressed when she imagined how painfully soul-sucking it would be to hear him squawking at her for the rest of her life. She had groaned out loud, silently praying for a quick and painless death and then stood very still in the doorway waiting to see if the Lord God, in all His infinite wisdom and mercy, would grant her wish. God, however, appeared to be far too amused by her current plight to put her out of her misery.

  This proved what Kate had long suspected: God was definitely a man.

  And because He was a man, and obviously in cahoots with her fiancé in an elaborate scheme designed to make her life un-livable, Kate now found herself in Big Al’s Super SuperMart at ten o’clock in the evening, choosing between the Dizzy Daisy and Winnie the Pooh Happy Honey Party china patterns while Will babbled on about cleaning products.

  Kate closed her eyes and visualized her happy place, which was anywhere Will was not, all the while trying to pinpoint when her life had become so depressing. Lately, the only time she had any sort of fun was when she was with Lana and Emilie. Even their constant ribbing about her upcoming marriage was preferable to spending alone time with her future husband. What kind of person found their own fiancé insufferable? What did that say about her?

  These were questions Kate knew she was going to have to answer. Eventually. Not tonight, though. Tonight she was simply too exhausted and irritated and confused to be tackling the curve balls life seemed to delight in throwing at her head.

  While Kate was freaking out about her life and Emilie was snuggling into the couch to watch a pleasantly mind-numbing chick flick that featured a shirtless Ryan Gosling, Lana was wonderfully, blissfully content.

  After Brian’s shift ended, they had gone back to his apartment and re-consummated their newly rediscovered love. Three times. Lana smiled in repletion as she lay curled next to Brian, whom she was pretty sure must have spent their time apart studying the ancient art of tantra. She was also willing to bet that he had been an A student.

  It was strange to think that eight years ago he had been the lousiest, most selfish boyfriend in recorded history, and now he was quietly humming an Irish ballad in her ear while he gently stroked her arm and thigh. Lana practically purred with delight when he leaned in to brush a soft kiss against the side of her mouth. This cuddly side of Brian was new as well, and Lana was basking in it.

  He was a completely different person — a thoughtful, affectionate, and nice person. Lana was quite pleased to note that everything she had ever wanted him to be in high school, he was now.

  “Hey, how’d you get to be so sweet?” she drowsily asked him.

  Brian laughed softly. “Wasn’t I sweet before?”

  Lana snorted. “As I recall, your idea of affection used to be, ‘Hey babe, your ass looks great in those jeans.’ It left something to be desired in the romance department.”

  Brian gave her a rueful grin and a brief nip on her bottom lip. “I was eighteen, Lana. You weren’t so sweet either, you know.”

  Lana’s eyebrows shot up and she gave him an innocent look. “Moi?”

  “You and your little friends were the ones who egged my car, weren’t you?”

  “Why, Brian Connelly, I am astonished that you would accuse me of such a thing. I would never dream of vandalizing private property.”

  Brian gave one of the purple spikes in her hair a sharp tug. “I suppose you had nothing to do with that little announcement over the P.A. system either, right?”

  “Which announcement was that, dearest?” Her doe-eyed expression was making it difficult for Brian to keep a straight face.

  “You know exactly which one, you little liar. The one that suggested I had a…well…”

  He seemed to have developed a frog in his throat, so Lana thoughtfully helped him out. “A teeny peeny?”

  Brian gave her a brief glare and pinched her hip in retaliation. “I was going to say a STD, but you’re right. The bit about my penis was the worst part of it.”

  Lana was giggling outright by now. “Don’t be silly, hon. I didn’t have a thing to do with that.”

  “Your little friends sure as hell did, though.”

  She could tell by his disgruntled expression that he was getting riled up. “Oh come on, Brian. You completely deserved everything you got, and you know it. If those harmless little pranks hurt you even a fraction as much as you hurt me, well, good.”

  Lana grew quiet as she recalled a few of her less than savory memories of Brian. Though it had happened years ago, the sting of discovering that he had cheated on her cou
ld, at times, still feel as fresh as it had the day she had realized what was happening. Lana supposed that was because he was the first person to ever hurt her in such a way, and that tended to stay with a girl.

  “Hey, come here.” Brian pulled her closer and nuzzled her ear. “I was only joking. That was so long ago, none of it matters now, anyway.” She stiffened in his arms, and he wasn’t such an idiot that he didn’t recognize his minor blunder. “Okay, okay.” He tried to gentle her as one would a temperamental cat, by running his hands down her head and back and humming under his breath. “You know what I mean.”

  She eyed him suspiciously. “Explain it to me.”

  “Just that whatever happened then, well, we’re here now,” he said calmly. “Isn’t that what’s important? The past doesn’t mean anything unless we let it mean something.”

  Lana wasn’t sure she agreed with him about that. Judging by the haunted look on Emilie’s face earlier today, the past almost always stayed with you. And, according to every history book she had ever been forced to read, the past also had a tendency of coming back to bite you when you least expected it to.

  But Brian did seem sincere. And she really liked feeling the way she was feeling right now. So, rather than start a fight she had no interest in having anyway, Lana leaned forward and she gave him a lingering kiss on his neck. “Whatever you say,” she whispered.

  Any response he might have had was muffled by her attack on his mouth. After that, neither of them was much interested in words.

  ***

  Emilie nervously fidgeted all through dinner the next night. Leo seemed distracted as well, and she wasn’t sure how to calm them both down. Tonight was the night; no ifs, ands, or buts about it, tonight was definitely the night for Emilie to stop stalling and give Leo what he wanted already. There was no earthly reason why she shouldn’t. She was a grown woman with nothing to stop her from enjoying the benefits that came with a steady, reliable boyfriend like Leo. Nothing at all.

  Now all she had to do was get Leo to focus. Ever since he had picked her up, his behavior had been erratic. When she had asked him to come in for a moment so she could go put her shoes on —she had discovered that strappy black Take me, I’m yours heels were a treacherous business best embarked upon with caution rather than speed— Leo had no sooner crossed the threshold when he hauled her into his arms and all but ripped her hair down from it’s twist in his effort to get as close to her as possible. He was all hands and teeth and tongue. It was like he was trying to eat her mouth, which Emilie quickly realized was not nearly as delightful as it sounded in a romance novel.

  Still, she supposed she appreciated his enthusiasm.

  After that ardent greeting, Emilie had imagined that she would have no trouble letting him know she was amenable to removing all of her clothes and allowing him to have his wicked way with her. Leo’s mood, however, remained thoroughly unpredictable as the night progressed. He barely said two words during dinner, although he did keep opening his mouth as if he was about to say something of vital importance, only to clam up again when she gave him an encouraging smile. That was super fun.

  Emilie would have thought he was about to break up with her if not for his passionate kiss earlier and the fact that, under the table, he had an unbreakable grip on her right thigh.

  When she finally suggested they skip dessert and head back to his place, Leo looked very thankful. He even gave her a quick, brotherly buss on the cheek as he hurried her out to his sedan. Bewildered by his behavior, and starting to regret all the effort it had taken to shave, shine, and polish her form, Emilie waited for Leo to say something —anything— on the way home. But he remained stubbornly silent.

  When they were two blocks from his apartment, she finally broke. “Look, if you’d rather not do this tonight, you can take me home.”

  After the previous vacuum of sound, Leo jumped like a startled doe at the sound of her voice. “What do you mean? Don’t you want to come home with me?”

  She forced herself to eradicate all sarcasm from her voice when she replied. “Of course I want to come home with you.” She had never actually been to his place and was dying to see where he lived. He was acting so strange, though, she wasn’t sure the timing was right. “You seem a little distracted,” she said tentatively. “I thought maybe you were wishing you were alone…”

  Now he was staring at her as if she had spoken ancient Sumerian. There was another long, awkward pause as she waited expectantly for him to say something, but Leo remained unnervingly silent, casting her wary glances as he pulled into the lot beside his apartment complex.

  He turned off the engine, and Emilie assumed he would open his door. After a few more excruciatingly silent minutes passed, she realized that she should probably stop assuming that she knew what he was thinking. She had not achieved any degree of accuracy in that regard all evening.

  Rather than continue this pointless guessing game, Emilie opened her mouth to inquire about his mental health. Before she could make a sound, however, she was interrupted by a mumbled declaration from Leo.

  “I’m pretty sure I love you.”

  Emilie stared at him, slack-jawed and stunned. Surely she had heard him wrong. Surely, after all these months of waiting, he wasn’t saying what she thought he was saying in a dirty car in the middle of an equally dirty parking lot.

  “I mean I do love you. I just, I thought you might like to know.”

  Apparently, Emilie thought dryly, that was exactly what he was doing. He anxiously watched her, as if he was expecting her to coherently respond to such a startling revelation.

  “I, um, thank you,” she stammered. She closed her eyes for a second, cringing at that less-than-witty response (stupid Kate and her stupid monthly Friends marathons) and wondering what her problem was.

  Luckily, if the relief flashing across his face was any indication, Leo didn’t seem to have a problem with her present wit deficiency.

  He reached across the seat and pulled her into his arms for a kiss. It was very romantic and Jane Austen-esque — or it would have been, if they hadn’t been sitting in a beat up Honda with freezing spits of rain falling on the windshield and a piece of coil from under the ripped seat cushion digging into her lower back.

  When they finally broke for air, she shyly suggested that they move from the cold car to Leo’s warm apartment. He brushed a feathery kiss against her temple and murmured his agreement, and Emilie was overcome with an odd chill and a nearly overwhelming desire to bolt.

  No, she scolded herself. This was going to happen. She had to bite the bullet, and she was not going to back out now just because she was feeling a little squeamish. And she was absolutely not going to let her stupid instincts tell her that she didn’t want to do this because her instincts had long-since proven themselves faulty, therefore, she refused to listen to them.

  Resolved, she managed to stumble from Leo’s car and follow him into his apartment. His manic grin told Emilie that Leo was quite eager to do this, and she made a concerted effort to reciprocate his enthusiasm. It was lucky for her that he seemed more intent on unlocking his door then he was on her expression, which she feared was less than chipper.

  Finally conquering his locked door, Leo grabbed her arm and yanked her into his tiny living room in a rush. Emilie barely had time to glance at the bare, institution-white walls and the lonely couch sitting in the middle of the room in front of a fifteen inch TV; the only other piece of furniture in the room was a plastic lawn chair and one of those old avocado rotary phones she hadn’t thought were still in existence.

  She visibly cringed at this inescapable evidence of his lack of taste — honestly, how hard was it to buy some paint and a few chairs? Her apprehension with what she was about to do growing by the minute, she nevertheless allowed Leo to tug her into his equally dismal bedroom where he began to frantically tear at the buttons on her red peacoat.

  Immobile, Emilie stood pressed against the door, looking at the unmade bed and rumpled,
stained sheets with distaste. The walls were just as white in here as they were in the other room, and there was an overturned milk crate propped beside the bed serving, she presumed as some kind of nightstand. An open box of cereal sat on top of it, along with a carton of milk that smelled a lot like Stupid Will.

  Barely suppressing a gag, Emilie closed her eyes in an attempt to block out her surroundings, but that seemed increasingly futile given the overwhelming stench of moldy milk that kept assaulting her senses. She had seen college dorm rooms with a stricter adherence to health codes. Leo was thirty years old; she had thought he would at least be in possession of an adult apartment. This place was depressing.

  Also, completely gross.

  Having successfully divested himself of his own coat and shirt, Leo materialized in front of her and startled Emilie again by pulling her into a suffocating embrace. When he began sucking enthusiastically on her neck, she bravely tried to force down the second wave of nausea that was soon threatening to overtake her. She could do this…she just had to take deep breaths and focus.

  His hands fumbled with the row of buttons along the back of her pencil skirt as he continued to nuzzle her neck and lick her collarbone.

  Eww-Eww-Eww.

  Leo’s hands drifted around to roughly fondle her breast over the top of her silk blouse. “You okay?”

  “Mmm-hmm,” Emilie shakily replied.

  She was beginning to feel dizzy, and not in a good way. How did people do this? How did you force yourself to relax enough to get naked with a person you didn’t really know all that well? She was realizing that she probably wasn’t going to be able to go through with this after all, and trying to decide just how pissed off Leo was going to be if she accidentally-on-purpose kneed him in the groin to prevent him from becoming insistent, when the phone rang from the living room.