Statues

Statues

I sat, still as a statue, stiff as a statue, stoic at a statue, at dinner. I quite possibly despised Rae.

I mean, it is one thing to have feelings for a boy who is taken. All of us have been there. Boys who are forbidden are always just that more appealing, more attractive, nice, sweet, hot, funny, clever, and generally awesome. That’s why they’re taken. Obviously. So the only thing you can do is want them from afar and drool over their soccer wins or guitar solos or whatever it is they do. And wait and hope that they break up with their hot girlfriend (because, let’s face it, she’s always hot), and then you plan that accidental meeting, where you oh-so-innocently bump into him and then you start talking and fall in love forever and ever—or at least that’s how it happens in your head because you can’t help but daydream.



Stupid Rae was skipping all the shortcuts. She was just, blatantly and obviously, into Ian, flirting with Ian, touching him whenever she thought she could get away with it, the stupid harlot. And either Ian didn’t notice or he didn’t care—either option was equally irritating to me, at this point.
And maybe it wasn’t fair of me to hate her for that, considering what I had done with Kyle, but I didn’t give a crap. She could back the hell off.

When she finished telling her umpteenth amusing anecdote, I jumped in on the conversation, just to remind her I was there. “So, Rae,” I asked, a sugary false sweetness coating my tone. “Was it hard leaving your boyfriend to come on tour?” I wrapped my hands around Ian’s upper arm. I thought she was going to punch me, I honestly did. “I know it would have been really hard to watch Ian go off without me.” I smiled.

Looking down and looking surprised, Ian smiled at me, too. He wasn’t quite picking up on what I was doing, but I was touching him, and, to him, that meant I was forgiving him. He slung his arm around my shoulders, as comfortable as could be. That felt good.

Poor, misguided little Rae clenched her teeth. “I don’t have a boyfriend.” If looks could kill, I would have been the murder of the century. I would have been destroyed.

“No?” I asked, tilting my head to the side. That’s right, little girl, he’s my husband. Back the hell off. “I’m so sorry, Rae! I could have sworn that Jenna said you did.” I shrugged. Upon hearing her name, Jenna looked at me and shook her head slightly. Either she didn’t want me to do what I was doing or she didn’t want me to involve her. Regardless of which she meant, I wasn’t particularly concerned.

What Rae Wanted to Say to Me:
“Fuck you, Sloan.”

What Rae Actually Said to Me:
“No problem. Just a mistake.”
And then she smiled.
She’s a good actress, that girl is.

As she glowered under her smile, Ian turned to me and said, “So what were you up to today, Sloan?” I had half a moment of nervous suspicion—but then, no. We’d fought this morning over this very issue, so surely now Ian would make a last-ditch attempt to fix it. I knew from past experiences with smaller spats that it wouldn’t last. He would quickly go back to his old ways, and I would be forgotten again.

Suddenly I didn’t feel quite so badly about anything that I’d done.

I shrugged again. “I just hung around the fair,” I told him. Technically, this was true. “Just roaming around, you know.” This not so much.

He nodded, the poor, trusting bastard that he was. “I was looking for you.” He wanted to make sure I knew that he’d been making an effort. It was insane, how I knew everything about Ian. I knew his intents and purposes, I knew why he did the things he did, I knew how he did the things he did. That kind of knowing was almost creepy. It was just such a degree of understanding that I could barely understand it myself.

“I know,” I reassured him. Just as I knew the prompt, I knew every answer to give. He needed to know that I knew that he’d been making an effort. He wanted to make sure that I’d recognize it for what it was.

A flop of his red hair fell over his left eye as he bet down to kiss my cheek. Rae glowered. She opened her mouth to say something when Jenna, who had been watching ever since I’d brought her into the conversation, interrupted. “Well, Pete,” she interjected suddenly, startling him, “I’m just about ready to get going. I’ll take your plate.” She eyed me dangerously as she took Pete’s plate from him; he tried to grab a few more French fries before the food was out of reach. That Jenna sure had him coming and going.

When she glared at me for a few seconds longer, I muttered, “I’ll grab yours,” to Ian and followed her. Gosh damn if Jenna didn’t have us all coming and going. She was just sort of like that. Why couldn’t Pete have liked dear, sweet, unassuming Molly? She never would be this bossy.

We dumped the plates into the bucket where they were meant to be dumped—how inventive of us—and Jenna grabbed my arm in a grip that hurt and dragged me to sit at an empty table.

“Don’t be mean to Rae,” she lectured.

I raised an eyebrow. Was she insane? Like, legitimately and certifiably insane. “He’s my husband,” I pointed out dryly. “And she’s hitting on him.”

Jenna shook her head like I was some sort of idiot. I really thought I might be able to take her. Sure, she was probably many, many, many times stronger than I was, but I was starting to get seriously annoyed. I had had a pretty rough day, and I simply did not need her to lecture me.

“Not about Ian, you idiot,” she scolded. “About the leaving her boyfriend, thing. Rae’s boyfriend actually did dump her flat on her ass when she left. I mean, I always thought he was a little shit, but this was low for even him. So, you know, be nice.”

Aw, hell. “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I was just making that up to remind her that I had Ian.”

“She knows,” Jenna assured me. “I promise you that she knows. Pete won’t let her forget. He brings you up every time Rae starts gushing.”

“Pete?” I was surprised.

Jenna grinned; she understood. “Pete. He steps in on your behalf all the time, Sloan. But it’s not about that. You can’t be a bitch, and you shouldn’t worry about Rae. She’s just a flirt. She’ll get over it.”

I looked over at the table. Rae was reaching out to touch Ian’s hand. He was looking over at me. I smiled. He smiled back. Triumph. Sweet, sweet triumph. “Remember,” Jenna pointed out, “you’re not competing against her. You already won.”