The Other Fish in the Sea (Grab Your Pole, #2)

by Jenn Cooksey

  “Well, let’s see… We found out he honestly doesn’t like to be on the bottom during sex, he sings along to ABBA’s ‘Dancing Queen’, he’d pick Camie over both you and Jeff, he believes boring sex is bad sex, which Brandon disagrees with, and that’s essentially it…oh wait, they also quizzed him on his knowledge about your party on New Year’s Eve and who gave you the hickey on your chest, that apparently is still barely visible,” Jill replied with a slight edge to her voice, further digging our mass gravesite.

  I think Jillian’s irritated with us for violating Tristan’s as well as Pete’s right to privacy even though there isn’t an actual Constitutional amendment that guarantees anyone that specific right which she knows full well. And I doubt she’ll use the video I’m sure she took of this because Tristan was unable to defend himself during everything, as was Pete. I think my sister has some sort of warped code of ethics about stuff like that, but again, I could be wrong.

  I swear Pete’s face paled though when that final bit of information penetrated his drowsy brain. “Uhh-huuuh,” Pete dragged the sound out while his eyes kind of darted from face to face like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Okaaay, aaand what did he say?” He asked cautiously, being clearly uncomfortable and still expecting that shoe any second.

  “Oh, only that he knew you’d made-out with someone and that he has an idea of whom that someone is but he’s not sure,” Jillian answered from her position of invisibility on the floor.

  “Huh. Well, that’s…interesting,” Pete said slowly. By the way, we’re all regarding him with more than just mild curiosity so I can fully understand his nervousness. I would totally be fidgeting around if five people were staring at me with intense interest like this.

  “Mm-hm, but it was his answer to their question of who he thinks she was that was most intriguing,” Jill continued flippantly with a tone heavily laced in sarcasm.

  Pete closed his eyes and I think he held his breath for a short moment too, and I honestly wouldn’t be surprised to find out that he’d said a prayer before saying, “Go on…”

  “He said, and I quote, ‘All our times have come, we can be like they are…Romeo and Juliet, the last night of sadness’ end quote. Since that sounds essentially prophetic in nature and keeping in mind the close calls we’ve had in the recent past, the theories on his meaning were mainly related to your suicide and/or our imminent demise. So, I for one plan on saying thanks for that, because I’m sure the faint of heart in this group will no doubt be having nightmares tonight,” Jillian said, as if she could’ve been preaching from a pulpit. That is, if acerbic and biting wit was a religion.

  Pete let out a laugh and that rare smugness was clearly written on his face again.

  “You’re laughing? Because seriously, Pete, it kind of scared the crap out of us,” Melissa told him honestly. Maybe you had to be there to appreciate it, but we really were pretty freaked out by the whole thing. Especially if you do keep in mind the car accident and my more recent run-in with death.

  “Hey, that’s what you get for goin’ through the wrong channels in an attempt to summon information that’s none of your business.”

  “Well said, Linus, I happen to agree,” Jillian intoned, and that time, I’m sure I wasn’t the only one who could hear the acrid disapproval in her voice.

  “Well now you’re awake, so come on, dude, who is she?” Jeff asked.

  “I might’ve before but I’m not tellin’ you guys shit now. Besides, like I said, it’s none of your business,” Pete replied and clasped his hands behind his head, the movement practically shouting self-assured arrogance.

  “Oh come on, Pete…it can’t be that big of a deal!” Kate said, trying to wheedle something out of him. However, she herself told me when I first started school that getting Pete to pony up information he doesn’t wanna part with is an exercise in futility. And now, I can see where she was totally right.

  “Nope.”

  “Oh I fuckin’ get it,” Brandon announced like he’d hit on something.

  “What? You get what? Do you know who she is?” Melissa asked excitedly while Pete remained exceedingly confident.

  “Nah, I don’t know who it was, but the only fuckin’ reason not to mouth off about screwin’ around with someone is if that someone is butt-ass-ugly…so how bad was she, dude? Coyote ugly?” I found it funny that this was coming from a guy who’d been secretly sleeping with one of my friends while we were all camping together and Melissa is in no way, shape or form even remotely ugly. Here again is an example of how erratic Brandon can be. Seriously, it’s sort of unnerving.

  “Eh, I don’t recall having to chew my arm off, but I had been drinking, so, who knows,” Pete answered with a placid shrug of his shoulders.

  “Shit, dude, that sucks…beer goggles are the worst. I screwed around with this super fugly chick once when I was plastered, then the next day she came up to me and I had no fuckin’ clue who she was. I didn’t drink for a whole goddamned month after that.”

  “Oh shit! She was so ugly you were scared sober?!” Jeff asked and started cracking up.

  “Picture Bigfoot with tits, dude…she was fuckin’ grisly.”

  Oh my God! I remember him talking to Derek about the Missing Link at that football game! I wonder if Kate or Melissa remembers any of what he said…I might have to try to remember to ask them later.

  “Ew, God that had to hurt!” Jeff said with tears starting to leak from his eyes. He’s the only one cracking up but the rest of us are laughing. I mean come on, I totally can’t help but laugh at the mental image of Brandon making-out with a Yeti.

  “No shit. Come to find out she’s a nice chick, but…never again,” Brandon decreed and then he opened his mouth to receive the bite of Melissa’s sundae she’d presented him with.

  “Hey! What about me?!” I complained with a laugh.

  “Camie, it’s your house! Go make one,” Kate replied with her mouth full and laughed at me and my feigned hurt expression.

  “Well, I would, but you try being pinned under him! I expected you guys to have a little more sympathy for those who can’t forage for themselves, you know?”

  “What do you mean? He won’t let you go?” Melissa asked with a giggle.

  I’d tried to get out from under him when the urge to pee struck a little bit ago, but his body tensed and he clamped his arm down on me so I decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Really, I didn’t have to go that bad, it was just a thought.

  “Umm, I’m kinda thinking no,” I answered with a goofy grimace.

  Tristan’s totally reminding me of a dragon again who’s keeping his princess locked away safe, except instead of using the door of that little bedroom at Mike’s, he’s using his body to accomplish the task. Honestly, I don’t mind at all…at least my dragon is cuddly.

  OH! Holy crap! I bet that’s what I was sleep talking about the night of the car accident!

  “Just shove him off you. It’s what I do,” Jeff suggested, causing us all to snicker at his unintended reminder of how he and Tristan occasionally nap together. “Go ahead and laugh it up, but until you’ve slept next to him, you have no idea what you’re missin’ out on. Am I right, Camie?”

  “Actually, yeah, it’s true. But Jeff, you’re bigger and better equipped to shove him…he’s too heavy and I can’t even get my arms under him to try to shove. Besides, any time I try to slip out from under him, he tightens his hold on me,” I explained in my defense, hoping that maybe someone would take pity on me and just build me a damned sundae.

  “You’re kidding? Does he always do that?” Jeff asked in genuine surprise. I really don’t have any idea why he’s so surprised though.

  I thought about the answer and then said, “Yeah, pretty much…although normally he’s not nearly as determined to keep me as he seems to be tonight.”

  If you’re having a hard time understanding why I’m having a hard time moving, let me explain; Picture being wrapped in a horizontal-ish bear-hug. I’m kinda prop
ped up in the bed but Tristan’s arms are around my waist, his head is on my chest and he’s got one leg over both of mine so half of his body is essentially on top of me. My arms are free and I can probably free one leg, but really, I’m not goin’ anywhere until he wakes up or consents to let go of me.

  “Why don’t you just wake him up?” Melissa asked. No kidding, why indeed? Duh.

  “Good luck with that. Remember, I was lifting his eyelids and pulling his leg hair that time I found out about his sleep-talking thing. Dude never even flinched,” Jeff said, standing up to stretch. So there goes waking Tristan up…I’m just going to be grateful I don’t have to pee anymore.

  Aw crap…why does that always happen? You’re fine until someone mentions it, but inevitably the second you think of the sixteenth letter of the alphabet, you gotta go.

  “What are you doing?” I asked when Jeff walked over to me and tried to lift Tristan’s arm.

  “Helping you. Jesus, he’s really got a hold on you… Anyone got a crowbar handy?” He said with a laugh when his first attempt to remove Tristan’s arm from my waist resulted with Tristan’s body subconsciously tightening around me, reiterating its unspoken message that he has no intention of letting go of me for a while.

  “I told you,” I said with a giggle when I felt Tristan’s body relax again and Jeff just stared down at us, contemplating his next maneuver.

  “Okay, let’s try this again or you’ll be stuck here all night. Hmm…I think we need some leverage. Hey Pete, you pull his shoulder, Brandon, you get his leg and I’ll pry his arm up and shove him…if we do it all at the same time, we should be able to give Camie enough room to slide out.”

  “Are you serious, dude?” Brandon asked and gave Melissa’s butt a little tap, prompting her to realize he was getting up.

  “Yeah, he’s not about to let her go. It’s like rigor mortis sets in, you’ll see…”

  The guys got in position with Kate and Melissa watching in fascination. I think Jill is still grumpy because she’s still on the floor and hasn’t popped her head up once to check out this hilarious form of escape we’re endeavoring to accomplish. Jeff counted to three and they pushed, pulled and pried, giving me just barely enough room to wiggle myself free. Once I was finally out from under him and standing next to the sofa-bed, laughing, Tristan…well, he woke up.

  “What the fu—? What’s goin’ on?” Tristan asked, confused, irritable and so darn cute I wanted to crawl back into the dragon’s embrace; thereby ensuring he’d hold me forever.

  “Dude, you had a death-grip on Camie...it took all three of us to rescue her,” Jeff told him with a chuckle.

  “Oh shit…sorry, Baby, you okay?” He asked, running a hand through his mop of hair that shows no signs of gray hair as of yet.

  “Oh yeah, I’m good. It was funny, that’s all,” I reassured him.

  “Trist, it was…you were completely relaxed until she went to move away or someone tried to move you, then you’d hold onto her like your life depended on it.”

  “Huh. Have I done that before?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

  “Uh-uh. Not like that anyway,” I told him with another giggle. Really, he’s so adorable when he’s sleepy.

  “Weird…what time is—aw shit,” Tristan said, noticing the time. Then he looked at Pete who was just shaking his head back and forth, informing Tristan there was no Sharpie mustache. “Alright, what did you dickheads do? No Sharpie, I’m still dry and clothed, my hair’s not braided or shaved…leg hair and eyebrows still there too…what the hell?” He asked in confusion as he crossed off all the typical pranks he could’ve been victim of. I would have been beyond pissed if anyone came near his hair though, just FYI.

  He yawned again and was just starting to stretch the muscles in his neck. Then, it hit him. “You mother fucker! I cannot believe you, you fucking cock sucker! You know what? I don’t even wanna fuckin’ know…Jesus Christ, you’re such a dick! We’re no longer friends.” Tristan threw the sheet off of him in what looked to me like massive indignation as he grabbed his pillow and got up, all the while ranting, raving, and railing at Jeff who was just laughing at the verbal abuse his best friend was raining down on him. “Oh, son of a fucking bitch! Where is she?!”

  “I’m right here and you may relax…I did not partake nor did I record any of what took place,” Jillian said, making herself known as she appeared from around the corner, having just come downstairs.

  Huh. I’m actually really surprised she didn’t video any of that. But can we take a moment here for my bewilderment on her teleportation? Seriously…how does she do that? I thought she was still lying on the floor in front of the bed!

  “Jillian…fuck, I don’t even know how to respond to that…I’m goin’ to bed,” Tristan declared in a huff and stalked off towards the stairs.

  Mind you, that’s not where “his” bed is and Jeff made sure to point that out, which resulted in something that could probably be thought of as verbal make-up sex. Again, not that I’d know what real make-up sex is like, but you get my point.

  “Uh, wrong way, buddy…aren’t you gonna sleep downstairs all by your lonesome? This ain’t an underage brothel you know.”

  “It’s not a fuckin’ monastery either.”

  “And you’d know all about that, right? Being the good little monk you’re posing as.”

  When everyone joined Jeff in his teasing snickering, Tristan turned around and sounding particularly un-monk-like he said, “Jeff, you can lick my balls and suck my fuckin’ dick and then go to straight hell…take everyone with you and kiss Satan’s fiery ass for me when you get there.”

  “Sure thing, lover, but I’ll need coins for the Ferryman…” Jeff said through his laughter.

  “Yeah? Come and get ‘em, you piece of anal rot,” Tristan growled and made like he was gonna advance on his friend.

  Which he may or may not have actually done but, well…I’d like to keep to the rule of no blood, no foul, so I came between them and playfully shoved Tristan back towards the stairs, intending to go up with him. I might as well, right? Besides, I wanna make sure he knows I didn’t ask him anything either and that it really wasn’t that bad.

  Jeff tut-tutted and then solemnly, or as solemn as one can get with a good-natured grin on one’s face, he said, “I think you should reconsider your vows…celibacy is not flattering on you, my friend. I think it’s affecting your sense of humor and our deep love for each other.”

  “Bite me, you fuckhole,” Tristan called over his shoulder as we headed up the stairs together. Then petulantly he said, “I hate him, Camie.”

  “No you don’t,” I told him in an indulgent and understanding tone.

  “Well I don’t like him…he’s mean,” he said with another pout.

  “I know he is. Oh, this should make you feel better though…Ferb made him bleed.”

  “She’s a good girl.”

  “Mm-hm…she jumped on him with her claws out and bit him on the knee.”

  “Did he yell and threaten her?”

  “Yep, he sure did.” Jeff’s yelling and threatening only means that she scared him. He would never actually follow up on any of his threats. I know it’s weird, but I told you, Jeff and Ferb have this love/hate thing.

  “Good. Serves him right,” Tristan said with a sleepy grin and crawled into my bed. “You comin’ to bed now or are you gonna go play with the big bully some more?”

  “No, I’m coming but I’m gonna brush my teeth and stuff.” The and stuff being peeing now before I get trapped under him again.

  “Mm-kay…” Tristan said with another yawn, settling himself on his back and closing his eyes. I’m assuming he’s going to let me use him as a pillow; otherwise he’d be in any other position instead of flat on his back. I wonder what it is about being on his back that bugs him so much…chalk it up to one more mystery to solve I guess.

  When I came back from my bathroom he was out. I don’t know if he would’ve held me in another death-grip because once
I snuggled up next to him, I was out for the night too.

  Sadly, I woke up in the morning all by my lonesome and it looked like I was destined to repeat the previous day, except without the homework and friend bar-b-q, but with an impromptu shower.

  Okay, so Sunday wasn’t exactly like Saturday but it was close. Well, maybe close is pushing it too…

  Tristan and Pete left early to go play with each other, I did some laundry, Jillian did some dusting and then she and I watched 40 Days and 40 Nights. It’s a movie about this guy who gives up sex for Lent and his friends set up a website chronicling his struggles where all his friends, co-workers and a bunch of people he doesn’t even know proceed to place bets on when he’ll break. It was a pretty funny choice considering Jeff’s blatant teasing of Tristan last night, and when he and Pete returned just as dirty as the day before and he saw what we were watching, he started cracking up.

  “You know I’m not catholic and don’t observe Lent, right? I don’t believe in self-deprivation as a form of worship.”

  “I figured. What do you believe in as a form of worship?” I asked playfully.

  Tristan waggled his eyebrows a little and with a cocky grin he asked, “You really ready to know the answer to that?”

  “Go shower, you filthy heathen,” I told him giggling, and tried to shove him away, however, I was in for a surprise.

  With his quick reflexes and agility, Tristan easily dodged my shove that I had actually put some force behind, and when I stumbled forward, he grabbed me and before I knew it, I was hanging over his shoulder once more and being carted upstairs.

  “Tristan! Put me down! You’re dirty!” I laughingly accused him. Yes, I’m totally cracking up, but I did just do laundry and I really don’t wanna do anymore. Not to mention that I’m all clean from my post laundry and ironing shower which took place not more than two hours ago.