She's With Stupid Read online

  Not only was this frustrating, it was completely pathetic, and Emilie really hated being pathetic.

  Thumping her head back down onto the pillow, she picked up her book on women of the Italian Renaissance and tried to immerse herself in the life of Lucrezia Borgia, but all her traitorous brain saw was his face.

  Lana was lying in the next room, staring at the ceiling. She, too, had checked the caller id and was now trying to ignore the pang of jealousy she’d felt when it had been for Emilie and not for her. Not that she wanted to talk to Brian ever again. She definitely did not. However, she was finding the idea of Brian not wanting to talk to her again quite unpleasant. He was a jerk, granted, but she still found the thought of him wasting away trying to think of new ways to beg her forgiveness far superior to the idea that he had simply shrugged Lana off in favor of Samantha the Skank.

  A phone rang again, this time Lana’s cell. Speak of the devil. Her hand hesitated over the Reject button. Three rings. Five rings. On the eighth ring, Lana hit Accept and guiltily looked at her door to make sure Emilie wasn’t standing there, judging her.

  She knew this was wrong. She knew she should hang up.

  Instead she put it to her ear. “What do you want?”

  There was a slight pause on the other end, and then Brian turned on the charm. Lana could practically hear it oozing from his pores. “Lana, sugar, I was about to give up.”

  Lana closed her eyes. That’s what she had been afraid of. “What do you want, Brian? I can’t imagine what more you and I could possibly have to say to each other.”

  She gave herself a mental pat on the back. That had sounded very blasé and no-nonsense — he couldn’t possibly derive any encouragement from it.

  “Sugar, we haven’t even begun to say everything we need to say to one another. You know that.” His tone could only be described as smarmy, and Lana briefly bemoaned the sad fact that she found him attractive anyway.

  She dug her fingers into the palm of her hand, hoping the biting pain would snap her out of whatever kind of trance he seemed to be putting her in.

  “Fine...” she finally sighed, keeping her voice to a whisper in the hopes that Emilie had fallen asleep and would, therefore, be unable to bear witness to her shame spiral. “Say whatever it is you need to say and then leave me alone.”

  “Not on the phone, Lana. Don’t you think we both deserve more than that?”

  Brian’s tone had switched from authoritative to soothing and she could feel herself weakening. Rats.

  Lana winced at her lack of self-control and tried desperately to sound as if she didn’t give a fig about him when she softly murmured, “I don’t think—”

  “I’m not asking for much, Lana,” he swiftly interrupted to prevent her from forming a rational argument. “I just want to have a real conversation with you. You have to let me explain.”

  When Lana opened her mouth, she had every intention of telling him to hit the road. She didn’t owe him anything, and she certainly wasn’t interested in hearing any of his lame excuses or lies.

  “Where do you want to meet?”

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and stared at it for a moment, stunned by the words that had just fallen from her mouth. So she was a complete dope with no willpower whatsoever. Good to know.

  She heard Brian breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line once she had demonstrated for him what a pushover she was, and she groaned at her own stupidity.

  “Tomorrow, sugar,” he said with a voice virtually oozing charm. “You’re off work on Friday’s, right? Come to the apartment.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off again. “We can talk here. No on else around, no distractions. Just us, Lana. Okay?”

  Lana surprised herself again when, instead of suggesting that he take a hike to Hades, making sure to bring his she-witch skank along with him, she simply said, “Seven o’clock?”

  “Perfect. I can’t wait, Lan. I miss you so much.”

  When it became obvious that she wasn’t going to respond, he chuckled into the phone, sounding sickeningly smug.

  Taking a deep breath, Lana resolved to tell him to just forget the whole thing.

  Any minute, now.

  “Sweet dreams, sugar.”

  The dial tone clicked and then buzzed in her ear. Lana hastily shoved the phone back onto the nightstand, staring at it as if it were a rattlesnake coiled to strike. How had that just happened? Her stunned brain couldn’t seem to understand why it did the things it did.

  Trembling, she eased back on the bed and huddled under the covers. This was such a bad idea — it had all the makings of a disaster waiting to happen. Still, no matter how bad of an idea it was, no matter how brainless it would make her feel, Lana knew that she was going to go over there tomorrow. She was going to regret it, she was probably going to hate herself for it, but she was going to go over there and let him lie to her. And she knew that, in spite of herself, she was going to pretend to believe him.

  ***

  The next evening, while Lana was driving to Brian’s apartment lecturing herself about the perils of being alone in an apartment with a man-whore and warning herself not to allow alleged man-whore to coax her into his bed or his couch or any other place that would result in her being naked, Emilie was stuffing a few papers that still needed grading into her school bag. She heaved a grateful sigh that it was Friday night and the most stressful part of her weekend was set to involve tasting cakes and picking out flower arrangements.

  She had stayed late at work in order to finish her lesson plans for the next few weeks and to update her wedding to-do-list. She’d been trying to keep her mind as occupied as possible because, in spite of her best intentions, whenever she allowed her mind to drift, Emilie inevitably found herself wondering where Ethan was and what/who he might be doing there.

  Yawning, Emilie absently turned off her computer and briefly contemplated all the stories swirling around school about Leo and Clarissa. She had heard from the seventh grade math teacher, who had heard it from one of the Reading Specialists, who had heard it from the school secretary that the pair had been fighting all week, loudly and publicly, with seemingly little concern about who could hear them. Teachers, students, and janitors alike were getting downright sick of listening to them fight — or rather, listening to Clarissa fight (and subsequently cry hysterically) while Leo remained conspicuously silent. It was almost as if he was goading the poor girl, or so the gossips speculated.

  Though it was of little significance to Emilie at this point, it did make her feel somewhat less slighted to hear that all was not well in paradise. Of course, she had tried to remain well below those same gossips’ radar for fear that someone might have occasion to recall that for several months prior to his official engagement, Leo had been awfully chummy with Emilie. He had practically lived in her classroom for the entire months of November and December. And though she was occasionally tempted to spill the entire tale of Leo’s treachery to anyone who wanted to listen, it would not have been at all prudent. Satisfying, yes. Prudent, no. Instead, she stayed quiet as a church mouse, offering no opinions on the rumored disintegration of St. Mary’s resident lovebirds.

  Emilie stretched her tired muscles before ducking into the hidden back room to grab her coat. When she exited the room a moment later her head was buried in her cavernous purse looking for her car keys, so she did not see the figure standing next to her desk and blocking her exit until she walked right into him. A startled squeal escaped her lips as she bounced off of him and skidded into the chalkboard along the wall beside her desk.

  “Leo!” she gasped and put her hand over her frantically beating heart. “You scared me half to death. What is wrong with you?”

  She felt certain she had made her feelings completely clear by refusing to take his calls for the last few weeks, and she was anxious for Leo to take the hint. Emilie had every intention of telling him so, too, but his hand aggressively slashed the air between them, nearly smacki
ng her in the nose and causing her to shut her mouth in surprise.

  He scowled down at her, his normally warm eyes darkening to chilly black, and Emilie dimly realized that she had never before seen him so fired up. It figured he would wait until now to get even remotely interesting.

  Emilie was pondering this strange shift in his personality when Leo snapped his fingers in front of her face. “Focus. I have some things to say to you.”

  One flawlessly shaped red eyebrow shot up, but, before she had a chance to say anything cutting, he was off and running with a laundry list of reasons why all the problems in his life were her fault.

  Her mouth fell open — how was it even possible for someone to be this thick? First he tried to seduce her with his frogs and his I want you, I need you, I love you spiel, then he unexpectedly showed up with a child masquerading as an adult, calling her his fiancée and acting all hurt and amazed that Emilie had the gall to be upset about it, and now he was blaming his current predicament on her. How absolutely perfect.

  Emilie forced herself to tune into the end of his blustery speech. “—need to know that I will not keep playing this game with you. I’ve tried to be nice to you, I’ve tried to explain, but you’re too immature to understand.”

  She opened her mouth again to reply, but Leo wasn’t done yet. “I don’t need you,” he said in a strange, stilted voice. “This can’t possibly be the first time someone’s said that to you!”

  Emilie was fairly stunned by this nasty turn of events. After all, she wasn’t the one with a secret fiancée and the complete inability to speak the truth. Why Leo was lashing out at her when he was the one in the wrong she could not fathom, but she didn’t like the uncomfortable feeling she had in her stomach when he looked at her like this — so bitter and angry and not right.

  “Leo,” she said in the calmest tone of voice she could muster. “I am not the one standing in your classroom accosting you. I am not the one who has been constantly calling and harassing you. So, all things considered, I am not exactly sure how or why you reached the conclusion that I need or want anything to do with you.”

  Since she wasn’t itching for a trip to the police station for any reason whatsoever, Emilie surmised that if she could just reach the classroom exit, she might be able to get the much needed space required to evade her new stalker.

  Leo, alas, had other plans. He grabbed hold of her arm to prevent her from leaving, and then he was spinning her around and pushing her back into a row of desks with a totally creepy gleam in his eyes. She looked down at the hand gripping her upper arm with a heightened sense of caution, unsure of what he was going to do next, before warily looking up to meet Leo’s gaze. Once she did, she fought the shiver of apprehension that raced up her spine.

  “You’re a manipulative little ice princess, you know that?” His face was so close that Emilie felt his hot breath on her cheek, which made her feel dangerously close to retching.

  He shook her so hard she felt her neck snap back, and she felt herself pale when his grip on her arm tightened.

  “You’re too wrapped up in your control issues to handle the fact that I won’t allow you to control me.” He made a gurgling sound in the back of his throat that might have been laughter, which only served to further creep Emilie out. “Do you think anyone in their right mind would ever want someone as emotionally crippled as you?”

  Behind her escalating anger, a small part of Emilie was insecure enough to ask herself if Leo was right. Was her inability to allow anyone to get close to her the real reason that the men in her life found it so easy to leave?

  She sharply narrowed her eyes on his flushed face, forcing herself to focus on one existential crisis at a time. Even if he did have a slight point, Leo was unmistakably nuts and Emilie suddenly wasn’t all that upset that this freak had chosen some other poor girl to manhandle till death did they part.

  He gave her another bone-rattling shake, which brought her attention back to the potential disaster at hand. Her brain swiftly catalogued and rejected various ways that she might ditch him in the likely deserted building, but unfortunate things kept intruding on her ability to come up with a plan, most of them details and not-so-fun images of the potential damage a demented loon could inflict on a girl when he put his mind to it. Since this information had mainly been gleaned from watching episodes of Bones and Dexter, she was feeling less than cheery about her current situation.

  Desperately trying to suppress these dark thoughts, Emilie made a concerted effort to remain calm. Maintaining eye contact, she forced herself to speak in the same low voice she had used before, so as not to stir up the crazy in Leo’s already unstable psyche. “Leo, if you will take a moment to think clearly, I’m sure you will see that I am not the one behaving like a child. Nor am I the reason you managed to reach the age of thirty without gaining enough emotional maturity to accept responsibility for your own actions.”

  Leo seemed slightly thrown by her level-headed response but he still hadn’t let go of her arm, so loosening his crushing grip was Emilie’s first priority. Then she needed to get as far away from him as possible. Though the idea of simply kicking him in the balls and making a run for it held great appeal, she couldn’t be sure she would be able to outrun him.

  “If you want to be with Clarissa, be my guest. I wasn’t aware I had given you any indication that I plan to stand in your way.” Emilie arched her brow again in question. She was actually quite impressed with herself — her voice hadn’t revealed her mounting anxiety once.

  His hand tightened again and she could feel the sharp edge of one of the desks digging into her hip as he pushed her further back into the aisle. “You panted after me for months. There’s no way you woke up one day and just changed your mind.”

  Emilie was trying very hard not to scream. She had never in all her life been treated like this. Her father was more likely to ignore her for months when he was annoyed than to threaten her in any way, and the men she usually surrounded herself with were sweet and gentle and timid. Even Ethan, for all his blustering and caveman tendencies, would have cut off his own arm before he ever physically harmed her.

  Leo did not seem to be bothered by any such scruples; it seemed she had seriously misjudged his character.

  “You are a weak person,” Emilie said mildly — she really would have to look into acting if the teaching thing ever fell through. “You want to be with that little girl because she lets you treat her as badly as you want, as often as you want, and she lets you ignore her so much that you’re still basically alone. That’s all you know how to be.”

  Leo’s hold on her arm had relaxed ever so slightly while she spoke. Emilie remained as still as possible until, finally, she felt him unclench his grip on her arm. She barely stifled a wince as the blood rushed back to her fingers. When he took a small step back she allowed herself to release the breath she had been holding.

  Rather than risk touching him again, Emilie grabbed her bag off the floor, stepped onto one of the desk chairs, and jumped down into the next aisle, clutching the purse like a shield. Without a backwards glance, she darted for the door. At this point, all she wanted to do was go home and cry on Lana’s shoulder, preferably with a pint of Graeter’s Chocolate Almond ice cream nearby.

  Emilie was reaching for the door handle when she felt Leo take hold of her waist and turn her so that her back was pressed against the door. When he lowered his head, Emilie was afraid he was going to kiss her and force her to enact her recently formed Knee the Psycho in the Groin and Run like Hell plan. Instead, he startled her again by sliding to his knees and resting his head against her stomach.

  This was an interesting twist on an already peculiar evening, Emilie’s weary brain noted. While she tried to stay as still as possible, the lunatic started to cry —cry!— against her abdomen. Oh, goody — the gentle side of him that she had thought herself so fond of was now on full display. Emilie concluded right then and there that she really was an idiot. This was not attractive,
it was scary…and just a little bit sad.

  “I lied,” Leo whimpered into the front of her now-soggy white shirt. “I need you. I need you more than I’ve ever needed anything in my whole life.”

  Shaken, Emilie looked down at him and said dryly, “Obviously.” She felt his body shake with a repressed sob. Gritting her teeth, Emilie lightly placed her hand on the top of his head. The last thing she needed was for him to get angry again. Crying, she could handle…hopefully.

  “Leo, it’s going to be all right.”

  He pulled back and looked up at her with eager, blood-shot eyes and a runny nose.

  Charming.

  “So we’re okay now?” he asked hopefully.

  Emilie barely stopped herself from smacking him upside the head. “There is no ‘we,’ Leo,” she reminded him.

  His face instantly became stormy. “Don’t say that,” Leo ordered. Half a second later his face softened and the scary look in his eye vanished, leading Emilie to again marvel how she had managed to miss his glaringly obvious borderline-personality disorder before.

  Leo moved again, causing her to jump, but all he did was place a kiss on her stomach. This, consequently, made Emilie’s flesh crawl.

  “I love you. You love me. Nothing else should matter,” he said with a sigh.

  Wow. She did not know how to respond to that bit of nuts so, after a long pause she said possibly the dumbest words ever spoken. “Um…maybe we could be friends?”

  “Friends?” he asked her stomach.

  “Friends,” she confirmed unsteadily. Being friends with an unstable biology teacher was clearly the last thing she wanted, but it was all she could think of on the spur of the moment to keep him calm.

  Leo shook his head stubbornly. “We’re more than friends, Emilie.”

  “No,” she said tightly. “Leo, we’re not. You have a fiancée. But you and I can still be friends. Maybe. Okay?”