Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series)

by Cooksey, Jenn

  Kate was eyeing me, but Jeff started laughing. “That’s fuckin’ awesome…way to go, Camie!”

  “Aw, thanks.” My eyes landed on my arch nemesis and my smile at Jeff’s genuine compliment faded. “Ugh. I hate her.”

  “Who?” Jeff asked.

  “Her,” I said with menace and pointed to where she was standing.

  Jeff looked around, but didn’t get it so again he asked, “Who?”

  “Teresa. You know, of the ‘We Hate Teresa Club, of which I am the treasurer,’” Tristan said with a crooked grin.

  Hold the freaking phone!

  Now seriously, let me just re-play what he said to make sure I didn’t imagine it…

  HOLY SCHNIKES!! Not my imagination!

  I must’ve had the most utterly shocked expression on my face because the three of them were looking at me like I might’ve been offended, or ready to be committed. Then Tristan asked, “What? She’s a piece of low-grade ass and a simpering bitch on top of that. I thought you were our newest member…”

  “You watch Buffy,” I accused the person with whom I’m now positive I’m meant to spend the rest of eternity. Seriously, that Buffy quote was like a sign from The Big Man upstairs Himself. Not to mention that Tristan used the word simpering and, I’m pretty sure the piece of low-grade ass comment is a quote from the movie Pretty In Pink. If so, all of that adds up to the trifecta of MFEO signs.

  “How do you know that?” My mate for life asked.

  “The ‘We Hate Teresa Club, of which you are the treasurer?’” I replied grandly.

  “Oh. Huh. I guess I did say that, didn’t I? My mom still watches it,” he said in answer, as if he was trying to say that he didn’t know full well he’d been quoting the show.

  I’m not buying it though. No way would someone be able to throw a word-for-word quote out there like that without being a fan. Of course, he replaced Cordelia’s name with Teresa’s, but still.

  The night progressed and although Tristan didn’t pay much attention to me after that, he essentially stayed in the group by the fire, and unlike last night’s, I found that this kind of party is actually a lot of fun. I socialized and was pleased to discover that I’m getting better at it. I’m also becoming more comfortable with the “in” crowd now, too. Like I belonged with them, I laughed with everyone when Conner was dragged out of the house and thrown in the pool. He also had a Sharpie marker mustache. I filed the scene away in my memory banks as fair warning to never pass out at a shindig like this. Not that I plan on passing out, but you know, one can never be too careful and I don’t think a mustache—Sharpie or otherwise—would be all that flattering on me.

  It was over before I knew it, though, and a guy named Ian had just finished with an impressive demonstration of talent by touching his tongue to his own elbow when my phone started to vibrate, telling me it was time to think about leaving. “Crap.”

  “What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

  “I’ve gotta get home, it’s almost midnight and, no offense, you’ve been drinking so I need to either find a ride home or call my dad.” I don’t care if she’s been drinking, but Kate is a far cry from Jesus so I don’t think I should push my luck with this.

  “Oh yeah. I’m sorry, Camie, I didn’t even think about that…” She apologized sincerely.

  “Don’t worry about it, it’s not a big deal, I just really don’t wanna call my dad, so… Hey! Who here is one hundred percent sober and can gimme a ride home?” I hollered to the group at large.

  I sighed when everyone just stared at me as if to say, “Duh, none of us is one hundred percent sober.” I was about to pull my phone out to call my dad when, having waited until there were no other offers, Tristan raised his hand, indicating he fit the criteria. I’m thinking, yeah right, buddy. As much as I’d love nothing more than to entrap myself with you in your car, I’ve watched you down at least a half-gallon of Pirate Punch tonight. And yeah, I know Tristan said it’s called Jungle Juice, but ever since I was told there’s rum in it, I keep thinking about Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow so I’m just gonna call it Pirate Punch from here on out.

  Anyhow, my reluctance to believe him must’ve been evident in my expression because he handed his cup to me and said, “Drink it…I’m stone-cold sober.”

  Okay, now you need to understand this is the closest I’ve ever come to swapping spit with a guy, so I’m kind of excited… Wanting to get as much of Tristan’s DNA in my system as possible without looking like a lush, I took a bigger sip than I needed to and realized with a start that it was just plain old cherry Kool-Aid. I downed the rest of it just for funsies and asked, “This is all you’ve been drinking?”

  “Yep. I haven’t had a single drop of alcohol all night. Wait. I take that back… If I remember correctly, I’m guilty of having a few drops, but still. Do you want a ride home or not?” He asked like he could care less if he drove me home, but when he’d reminded me about the whole finger sucking thing, his tone had been far from ambivalent and his eyes twinkled.

  “Uh, yeah, thanks…that’d be great. I really don’t wanna have to call home,” I said, accepting his offer of being alone in an enclosed space with him for probably at least ten minutes, maybe even fifteen depending on how fast he drives.

  “Alright then, let’s go. See you guys later,” Tristan said first to me and then to the rest of the group as he turned and removed those fortunate keys from his pocket once more.

  I should probably take this time to mention that when I started to follow him, I turned around to say goodbye to everyone and tell Kate I’d talk to her later, and in doing so, my eyes caught sight of Teresa shooting daggers at me. I chose to ignore her along with the dark, malevolent laugh that was trying to free itself from my mind by escaping through my mouth. Instead, I finished with my goodbyes and turned back around to realize I’d lost Tristan.

  I started looking around for my blessedly beautiful, sober ride home and was just about to throw my hands in the air in defeat when I heard a sharp whistle and my name being called. I peered into the shadows to my left and sure enough, Tristan was standing a ways away holding a gate open. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, I made my way over to him, dodging people and their plastic cups of Pirate Punch as I did. I giggled to myself when Tristan tapped his watch impatiently and mouthed the words “Let’s go.”

  I finally reached him and raised my eyebrows in mock exasperation. “Well? What are you waiting for? Time’s a wastin’, speedy, let’s go!”

  He rolled his eyes and on a chuckle he asked, “What the hell were you doing?”

  “I was saying goodbye to everyone!” I responded, slightly indignant, and followed him out the gate and down the lengthy, cobblestone path to the front of the house.

  “You’re such a girl.”

  Well noted, Captain Obvious. “Are you accusing me or just now noticing?”

  He stopped to look at me and gave me cocky half-smile and an answer, both of which had my heart going pitter-patter. “Camie, I’m not blind.” Then he reached for my hand and said, “Come on, it’s almost midnight. I don’t wanna speed to get you home on time.”

  Hand-in-hand again, I stopped trying to understand why his touch seems to bring my skin and senses alive and just accepted it, giving myself up to the simple enjoyment of the feeling. Thus, we ambled down the street and the long line of parked cars in companionable silence. Our progress slowed and then halted upon reaching a jet black, ‘68 Chevy Chevelle. I mentally smiled to myself in appreciation, thinking how much my dad and Jillian would luuuv his car. And being that I’m sorta familiar with muscle cars of its stature, I’d be willing to bet that it’s not only demonically fast, but that it’s ungodly loud, too. Then I noticed the license plate; it reads H2OZLIF.

  “Water is life, Camie.” The words seemed to float in the warm breeze before they settled around me like an embrace, lovingly affirming what I now recognize to be a deep-seeded belief.

  Sensing a shift in the previously affable atmosphere and b
ecoming somewhat thoughtful, I stood back while Tristan unlocked the passenger door for me and agreed with him. “It’s true…especially when you consider that without it, we die.”

  He looked at me pensively for a moment, his face barely illuminated by the sparse streetlights. Then he made a minute gesture to the open door for me to get in. I did, feeling as though that in this one simple, reflective moment of time, we communicated more to each other than we had in all the interactions we’ve had since Monday. And I can’t say for sure, but it honestly felt like we’d forged a connection, the level of which I never even knew existed.

  Tristan closed my door and rather than immediately going around the other side to get in, he turned his back to me and the car, slid his hands deep inside his pockets and was still. Wholly captured by the sight, I watched him through the window next to me. The moments stretched out as he simply stared up at the clear night sky and the sliver of moon it held. When Tristan finally got in, he looked over at me with a wry, “go figure” tilt to his mouth. Then with a quiet “Humph,” he shook his head and started the engine, producing a rumble I not only appreciated, but also felt in my bones—one that comes from the unparalleled power of over 200 harnessed horses pawing the ground and chomping at the bit to be released onto the streets.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked, not knowing why he’d gotten so “dreamy” out there or what that look was about, or, in fact, how to take any of it. I was second-guessing myself, as I oftentimes do, wondering if I’d just mistakenly read whatever might be growing between us to be more than what it is.

  “No…not wrong. It’s just…no one’s ever understood it that way before.” He sounded almost gratified. Then, adjusting the rearview mirror and looking out the windshield, Tristan quietly asked, “So, where do we go from here?”

  The optimist in me thought it sounded like he could’ve been asking about us in a figurative way and I felt like saying, “I don’t care where we go as long I’m with you.” My inner realist told him where I live instead.

  Aside from that inexplicable feeling that something is happening between us, I don’t have anything else to report about Tristan driving me home because basically, nothing happened. We exchanged a little small talk, but honestly, that was pretty much it.

  When he pulled up in front of my house, I thanked him and gave him a small, but sincere smile, to which he replied with a speaking glance and a short “Yep.” As far as goodbyes go, it clearly wasn’t much in the way of validating the possible feelings he might have, nor was it all that significant of an interaction. Although, it does seem like we’ve made some kind of progress. And I’m getting the feeling that if I’m expecting Tristan to be the kind of guy who makes grand gestures and eloquent speeches fraught with meaningful expression, I’ll be sorely disappointed. He did, however, wait for me to get all the way inside my house before driving away, proving he does have at least some real gentleman-like qualities, for which I’m grateful.

  So, overall, I’d say tonight definitely qualifies as a step in the right direction…

  8.

  A Serious Waste Of Good Lip-gloss

  I did a lot of mental reviewing of Saturday night as I spent most of Sunday trying to get in touch with Kate to compare notes and kept getting her voicemail. So, it was with great excitement that I was waiting on my front porch for her to pick me up for school Monday morning. Even though she wasn’t present for any of my cardiac arrest moments, I’m sure she’ll be able to make something out of what I tell her. Besides…even though I’ve been giving all the dirt to Jillian, I still really want to share all this with my new best friend.

  “Camie! I’m so sorry I didn’t call you yesterday!! I got tossed in the pool after you left the party and my phone got destroyed…second time this year that’s happened too. I really should memorize some numbers just in case, huh?” Kate explained with an excited curiosity evident in both her face and voice.

  “Please, don’t worry about it... Well? I know you’re dying, so, go ahead!” I gave her a big grin.

  “Oh my God, Camie! I thought I was gonna die when you guys showed up together!! You have gotta tell me how that happened! And he drove you home! Did he kiss you?! And how the hell did you end up in his shirt?! Details, now!!” Kate demanded, practically hopping up and down in her seat as we drove to school.

  “Alas, there was no smooching to be had…” I told her and proceeded to relay all that she’d missed.

  On finishing my re-play for her, we arrived at school. Kate turned the car off and then turned to stare at my face with surprise. “Clarify something…he told you to actually keep that shirt?”

  “Yeah. I told him I’d return it today and he said, ‘just keep it,’ exactly like that. Why?” I’m a little confused again. She seems to think my new lingerie is of major importance for some reason. And just so you know, it smells like him so I’m never going to wash it.

  “Oh Camie... I think you have him hooked! Two things about what the shirt means…one, parading you all over the house and backyard the way he did while you were in that shirt all night was like marking his territory. I mean, Camie, did you actually look at the shirt?” She asked me seriously.

  “Uh, yeah…I guess. It’s an old swim team shirt…it’s a little frayed here and there and has a few small holes in it. What’s the big deal?” I’m really not getting the extreme gravity about it. I mean, yes, water and therefore anything to do with it is obviously really important to him, but like he said…it’s just an old shirt.

  “Camie, that shirt…wow…that shirt is like one of his absolute favorite possessions. He got it when he made the Varsity team our freshman year before we even graduated junior high. He was pretty proud of himself for that and it’s all torn up because he wears it a lot. It really doesn’t even fit him anymore, but he still wears it on weekends. Jeez, I really didn’t expect that. I mean, I know exactly what he was doing by having you wear it in front of everyone, but he actually gave you one hell of a freaking souvenir!” Kate said, shaking her head in astonishment.

  “Oh. I had no idea… Um, explain what you meant about marking his territory though, does everyone know how much he loves it or something? Because that might explain the looks going on back and forth between him and Pete. Oh and I wanted to know what you think about why his eyes change color,” I said kind of stunned. I don’t what to say about this…I really don’t.

  “His eyes change color?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, not from blue to brown or anything crazy like that, but different shades of blue…I saw them do it a few different times Saturday night and thought it might be the lighting but I really don’t think that’s it.”

  “Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever really noticed that before...I mean I guess they tend to kinda sparkle when he’s in a good mood, but other than that, I haven’t seen a color change. Then again, I don’t spend a lot of time gazing into my boyfriend’s best friend’s eyes.”

  “I totally get that. I, on the other hand, was definitely doing a lot of gazing.”

  “I bet,” she said and giggled at me. “Anyway, back to the shirt…no, not everyone knows how attached he is to it, that’s kinda just something that people really close to him would know, like me, Jeff, probably Pete and maybe Mike, but it doesn’t really matter how many people know how much he loves it. The other very distinguishing feature of that shirt, which you neglected to mention in your description, is that it’s got his name written in bold lettering on it, which everyone would’ve seen.

  “Regardless of how you came to be in it, everyone at that party saw you with him and wearing his freaking shirt! He’s not stupid, Camie, he knows how fast rumors spread in this school and if he wanted to keep quiet about being interested, then he would’ve given you the shirt he had in his car.”

  That was a really funny shirt, too. It reads, “An awkward morning is better than a boring night.” I wonder if it’s a personal motto.

  “Did you notice that he didn’t stay quite so close to you and even
left a few times when you were at the fire pit?” She’s in almost as good a form as she was on my first day, don’t you think?

  “Of course. I just thought he was going back to being his standoffish self though.”

  Kate giggled for a moment and then said, “I’m not laughing at you Camie, honestly. It’s just that he’s really good at manipulation, that’s all. Instead of having you physically close to protect him, he let the fact that you were in what was obviously his clothing do the job, which freed him up to move around more. Plus, it meant he didn’t really need to worry about most of the guys there hitting on you while he wasn’t around.

  “That’s what I think the silent communication between him and Pete was about too. They’re really pretty tight and Tristan wouldn’t worry about Pete or Mike at all, but some of the other guys, like Conner for example, might not have had the good sense to leave you alone in Tristan’s absence. Even though I wasn’t there to see it, I think he was telling Pete to look out for you for him. Man, when your cousin said he was a calculating opponent, he sure hit the nail on the head!”

  “Huh. I remember thinking that Conner was being kinda flirtatious, but I really didn’t think anything of it. I just figured he’s like that and he was being friendly. Do you think that’s why Pete kept making him drink every time he sank a quarter?” I asked, feeling like maybe I wasn’t so bad at observing details as I’d originally thought.

  “Probably. Conner’s really an okay guy, but his girlfriend just dumped him. After I got off the phone with Jeff, I overheard him talking about wanting to get trashed and then go after the first cute girl he saw, so if Pete could get Conner blitzed enough to pass out, then problem solved. Well…you know what all of this means, right?” Kate asked.

  “Uh-uh, what?” I might be getting better at the observing part, but I still don’t know how to put any of it together.

  “You could say Tristan’s decided to go somewhat public. He chose a slightly more selective venue to do it in, but word will still spread. I wonder how long it’ll be before he decides to let you in on it. I don’t want you to get your hopes up, because this could still take some time depending on the opportunities he’s presented with and how, or even if he chooses to take advantage of them.