Abnormal
By Redtoes
Part 8 of the Synonyms Series
Authors Note 1 - Sorry about the late update, moving to London and a lack of internet access postponed my posting of this installment.
Authors Note 2 - For all those grammar geeks out there - yes the series is called Synonyms, but the first 6 stories were variations on the predictable/obvious titles of the first 2. This lasted until Missy and Jan broke up (!) or at least began to in the last fic number 7. The theme then changed to Antonyms. The last 4 stories (I've planned four but it may take longer to resolve seeing as how long it took to get them together) will have the same type of title. The series title is still "synonyms". Okay and if you followed any of that and actually understand it then you get a gold star, or, as is more likely, a virtual hug if you leave me feedback.
Disclaimer - She's not, he's not, they're not, and you're not mine. I, however, am and will continue to exert ownership rights over myself.
He didn't say anything.
He just stood there, with that blond bimbo of a bitch wrapped around him and didn't say anything.
And no I'm not stupid. Yes I could see he was uncomfortable. I could see he looked trapped and stunned and probably has a plausible if not actually a good reason why he made less noise than a statue. So I'm aware of him, his state of mind, his expression.
Right?
So do you get yet why I'm never going to speak to the guy again?
No?
Well let me explain it for you.
I was watching their conversation. Let the record show that I was keeping track of what was being said and in no way was I just training unaware on the other side of the room. I heard Courtney's requests and Whitney's comments and Torrance and Les's bumbling attempts at an excuse. I heard Jan's silence. I heard it all.
The boy's a talker, you know that? He talks. He's always got something to say, always got something to share. Comments, opinions, arguments; always something. He doesn't get quiet very often, but if he does, well that's a whole new ball game, and usually one he's losing.
It's when he's quiet you have to worry.
It's the times when he walks off, or just stands there that are serious. The issues that get to him he doesn't comment on. He stays out of them. Maybe it's a defense mechanism of some sort, though if so it's a damn stupid one that deserves to be removed by some painful process.
It's when he says nothing you have to worry.
When he's silent you're in trouble.
And he didn't say a word in there.
Not one.
So what am I supposed to think? That he's with me. Or that he's with Courtney? Courtney certainly seems to think he is.
I mean, I know he mentioned there would be stress with Courtney. Les mentioned we should be aware of Courtney. Torrance warned me about Courtney. It all comes back to Courtney.
Or maybe it never left her to begin with.
So what am I here? The dunce who got taken for a ride by a bit of sexual tension and read too much into it? An idiot for fell for the guy with a girlfriend? What am I left with?
I'm still toweling my hair dry when the rest of the girls, minus Courtney, Whitney and Torrance walk in.
"What's that about?" Casey asks in that clueless innocent voice of hers.
"That was Courtney," Darcy answers, "being Courtney."
"Yeah," one of the others adds, "Courtney's being Courtney."
"She gets like that sometimes," Darcy clarifies, "She's a bitch."
She really is. I know it. Courtney's a bitch. I quietly pack up my stuff, and manage to slip out a side door just as Courtney and Whitney strut into the Locker room.
I know Torrance will be waiting for me with Les, she'll have put off her shower for a few to make sure she doesn't miss me. She won't want me to do something I'll regret. Like kick Jan's ass off a cliff, or into heavy traffic.
I mean how dare he? How dare he keep from me that he's actually having a relationship with Courtney. He should have told me. He really should of. I mean, if only so I'd know his side and wouldn't find out from Courtney. Damn her.
Damn him.
I just want to get out of here. I need to think and I can't here. He's here somewhere. Maybe with her. Maybe they're -
"Missy."
Or maybe he's standing behind me.
"Missy, I -"
Maybe he's standing behind me, holding his arms out to me in this lost, hopeful way.
Maybe he's got this look of pain and confusion etched across his face, this determination to make things right but the complete lack of any clue how to do it.
"Missy, Courtney, I -"
He's trying so hard to figure this out.
"Did you sleep with her?"
Why did I say that? Why do I even want to know that? Why did I -
Oh god he just flinched.
He flinched.
"It's complicated."
No kidding it's complicated.
"Complicated?"
"Yeah," he admits, "complicated."
"But it's the kinda complicated that's in the past, right?" Man I hate how my voice sounds, all reedy and weak, like I need him. I don't need him. I don't need this. I was perfectly fine before this came along, I was good, I was happy - and why the hell hasn't he answered my question yet?
"Jan?" I query.
"It's complicated." He says, spreading his hands wide.
"You're still sleeping with her?"
"No," he says, "I mean, she thinks I am, but I'm not."
"Jan, you gotta explain that, coz right now you're not making much sense."
"I'm not sleeping with Courtney," he says, stepping forward to cup my face in his hands, "I'm not. I'm with you. I want you."
And just as I start to relax, something occurs to me.
"So how's it complicated?"
"It just is."
"No," I say, pulling back, "It's not. We're us, and she's her, and the only reason she doesn't know that we're us and she's her is because of the squad. So we don't mess with the dynamic. It's not complicated, it's just secret."
He shifts on his feet.
"But that's not all of it, is it?" I say, watching his discomfort. "There's more, isn't there?"
He looks away.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing," he says, "nothing important."
"It must be something."
Jan steps back, looking anywhere but at me.
"Look I'd better go," I say.
"Missy," he starts, "This isn't what you think."
"Isn't it, coz I think you not being straight with me. Is it what I think?"
"Missy," he pleads, "This is complicated."
"Did something happen," I venture quietly, "with her, I mean since me?"
And he doesn't look at me. He doesn't fucking look at me.
Oh God.
Oh shit.
And I'm running down the hallway. Running away from him. Running out the door.
Running past Torrance. Running past Les. Running away from all of this.
And I'm not going to stop. I'm just going to keep on going.
Because Jan slept with Courtney.
Jan slept with Courtney.
My Jan.
But he's not mine anymore. If he was ever mine to begin with.
Because he slept with Courtney.
Oh God.
By Redtoes
Part 8 of the Synonyms Series
Authors Note 1 - Sorry about the late update, moving to London and a lack of internet access postponed my posting of this installment.
Authors Note 2 - For all those grammar geeks out there - yes the series is called Synonyms, but the first 6 stories were variations on the predictable/obvious titles of the first 2. This lasted until Missy and Jan broke up (!) or at least began to in the last fic number 7. The theme then changed to Antonyms. The last 4 stories (I've planned four but it may take longer to resolve seeing as how long it took to get them together) will have the same type of title. The series title is still "synonyms". Okay and if you followed any of that and actually understand it then you get a gold star, or, as is more likely, a virtual hug if you leave me feedback.
Disclaimer - She's not, he's not, they're not, and you're not mine. I, however, am and will continue to exert ownership rights over myself.
He didn't say anything.
He just stood there, with that blond bimbo of a bitch wrapped around him and didn't say anything.
And no I'm not stupid. Yes I could see he was uncomfortable. I could see he looked trapped and stunned and probably has a plausible if not actually a good reason why he made less noise than a statue. So I'm aware of him, his state of mind, his expression.
Right?
So do you get yet why I'm never going to speak to the guy again?
No?
Well let me explain it for you.
I was watching their conversation. Let the record show that I was keeping track of what was being said and in no way was I just training unaware on the other side of the room. I heard Courtney's requests and Whitney's comments and Torrance and Les's bumbling attempts at an excuse. I heard Jan's silence. I heard it all.
The boy's a talker, you know that? He talks. He's always got something to say, always got something to share. Comments, opinions, arguments; always something. He doesn't get quiet very often, but if he does, well that's a whole new ball game, and usually one he's losing.
It's when he's quiet you have to worry.
It's the times when he walks off, or just stands there that are serious. The issues that get to him he doesn't comment on. He stays out of them. Maybe it's a defense mechanism of some sort, though if so it's a damn stupid one that deserves to be removed by some painful process.
It's when he says nothing you have to worry.
When he's silent you're in trouble.
And he didn't say a word in there.
Not one.
So what am I supposed to think? That he's with me. Or that he's with Courtney? Courtney certainly seems to think he is.
I mean, I know he mentioned there would be stress with Courtney. Les mentioned we should be aware of Courtney. Torrance warned me about Courtney. It all comes back to Courtney.
Or maybe it never left her to begin with.
So what am I here? The dunce who got taken for a ride by a bit of sexual tension and read too much into it? An idiot for fell for the guy with a girlfriend? What am I left with?
I'm still toweling my hair dry when the rest of the girls, minus Courtney, Whitney and Torrance walk in.
"What's that about?" Casey asks in that clueless innocent voice of hers.
"That was Courtney," Darcy answers, "being Courtney."
"Yeah," one of the others adds, "Courtney's being Courtney."
"She gets like that sometimes," Darcy clarifies, "She's a bitch."
She really is. I know it. Courtney's a bitch. I quietly pack up my stuff, and manage to slip out a side door just as Courtney and Whitney strut into the Locker room.
I know Torrance will be waiting for me with Les, she'll have put off her shower for a few to make sure she doesn't miss me. She won't want me to do something I'll regret. Like kick Jan's ass off a cliff, or into heavy traffic.
I mean how dare he? How dare he keep from me that he's actually having a relationship with Courtney. He should have told me. He really should of. I mean, if only so I'd know his side and wouldn't find out from Courtney. Damn her.
Damn him.
I just want to get out of here. I need to think and I can't here. He's here somewhere. Maybe with her. Maybe they're -
"Missy."
Or maybe he's standing behind me.
"Missy, I -"
Maybe he's standing behind me, holding his arms out to me in this lost, hopeful way.
Maybe he's got this look of pain and confusion etched across his face, this determination to make things right but the complete lack of any clue how to do it.
"Missy, Courtney, I -"
He's trying so hard to figure this out.
"Did you sleep with her?"
Why did I say that? Why do I even want to know that? Why did I -
Oh god he just flinched.
He flinched.
"It's complicated."
No kidding it's complicated.
"Complicated?"
"Yeah," he admits, "complicated."
"But it's the kinda complicated that's in the past, right?" Man I hate how my voice sounds, all reedy and weak, like I need him. I don't need him. I don't need this. I was perfectly fine before this came along, I was good, I was happy - and why the hell hasn't he answered my question yet?
"Jan?" I query.
"It's complicated." He says, spreading his hands wide.
"You're still sleeping with her?"
"No," he says, "I mean, she thinks I am, but I'm not."
"Jan, you gotta explain that, coz right now you're not making much sense."
"I'm not sleeping with Courtney," he says, stepping forward to cup my face in his hands, "I'm not. I'm with you. I want you."
And just as I start to relax, something occurs to me.
"So how's it complicated?"
"It just is."
"No," I say, pulling back, "It's not. We're us, and she's her, and the only reason she doesn't know that we're us and she's her is because of the squad. So we don't mess with the dynamic. It's not complicated, it's just secret."
He shifts on his feet.
"But that's not all of it, is it?" I say, watching his discomfort. "There's more, isn't there?"
He looks away.
"What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing," he says, "nothing important."
"It must be something."
Jan steps back, looking anywhere but at me.
"Look I'd better go," I say.
"Missy," he starts, "This isn't what you think."
"Isn't it, coz I think you not being straight with me. Is it what I think?"
"Missy," he pleads, "This is complicated."
"Did something happen," I venture quietly, "with her, I mean since me?"
And he doesn't look at me. He doesn't fucking look at me.
Oh God.
Oh shit.
And I'm running down the hallway. Running away from him. Running out the door.
Running past Torrance. Running past Les. Running away from all of this.
And I'm not going to stop. I'm just going to keep on going.
Because Jan slept with Courtney.
Jan slept with Courtney.
My Jan.
But he's not mine anymore. If he was ever mine to begin with.
Because he slept with Courtney.
Oh God.