Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series)

by Cooksey, Jenn

  “Oh. Umm…I’d have to clear it with my parents. I don’t think it’ll be an issue, but if Derek shows up at my house shy one of their daughters…well, that probably wouldn’t go over very well.” I immediately began praying that my parents’ cool factor would extend to letting me stay at the beach all day and evening with a guy neither of them has ever met.

  “Okay, so call ‘em. It seems kinda like a waste of time for you to go all the way home only to turn around in a few hours and come back out here,” Tristan said realistically.

  Hmm, I’m not sure how to take his offer now. Is he being practical or does he want to spend more time with me? Kate?! Where are you when I need you?

  Wait a minute. Why do I care what his motives are for asking me to stay? Honestly, it’s not like it makes a difference. Tristan time is Tristan time, right? And this would be even better because it would be alone time! Woohoo!

  When we made it to the sand, I stopped him and decided to preface the introductions. “Okay, I’m gonna have to introduce you to my family, but you see the girl that looks like an adolescent Barbie doll?”

  Tristan laughed at my description. “Yeah. I assume she’s your sister.”

  “Yeah, she is, but I just wanna warn you…you wanna be nice to her.”

  I have no idea what to expect from Jillian after the prank she pulled last night and I’m really hoping that got her trickery out of her system for a while.

  Tristan laughed again and I got the impression he didn’t fully appreciate what I’d told him, so I gave him more truth. “No, I’m dead serious. You wanna stay on her good side, Tristan. Did you see Mark Austen’s car last night?”

  “No. I heard about it, though. Why?”

  “You’re looking at the twelve year old sadistic deviant responsible for that. She heard about Mark making fun of Paul and, of course, I’ve told her all about how much I loathe Teresa. So she uh…gave them a taste of their own medicine with the first opportunity presented to her. I’d just really hate to see anything happen to you or your car if she were to take something you do or say the wrong way,” I said seriously and watched his face for a reaction.

  His eyes widened and he looked back and forth between Jillian and me for a moment before chuckling. “No shit? Thanks for the heads up.”

  I love that he didn’t even question a girl’s ability to pull off what my sister did. Because really, changing out a tire isn’t a big deal and besides, if men can be ballerinas, girls can be grease monkeys. Any other belief is quite simply chauvinistic in my mind.

  When we reached where everyone was shaking sand off the towels and packing up, I introduced Tristan. The younger kids were more interested in his surfboard than him and he, of course, already knew Derek a little so that actually went pretty well. Derek didn’t pound on his chest even once, for which I’m relieved. Jillian remained more or less observant, just listening to him talk with Derek and studying him in general while I was on the phone with our mom. When I saw her reach into her backpack, however, I gave her an “I’m begging you” kind of look. She just opened her eyes innocently at me, pulled out a tube of Chap Stick and held it up for me to see. Knowing her, though, I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it wasn’t lip balm at all, but a microphone or some other tool of the trade.

  “Okay! I’m good. My mom even extended my curfew half an hour because of the drive.” My mom was in a great mood, so I’m thinking my parents might’ve had a really good day together without any children home to—ahem—“bug them.”

  “Okay, cool. Uh, Camie, can I talk to you really quick?” Derek asked and motioned for me to join him a few feet away from everyone.

  Ugh. I so do not want a lecture from my cousin about Tristan right now…that would totally irritate me. I’m over the cheerleader so he needs to be, too. I swallowed the bitchiness I could feel rising, though, and simply asked, “What’s up?”

  “I just wanted to make sure it’d be okay for me to date MaryAnn now. I’ve been holding off because I didn’t wanna blow it for you, but now that he knows I’m your cousin, it’s cool if I ask her out, right?” Aw, how great is he? He put his dating life on hold just for me. MaryAnn had better appreciate what a good guy my cousin is.

  “Oh, totally. Date away!” I told him with enthusiasm, more than happy to be completely wrong for once.

  Tristan and I said goodbye to my familial entourage, and then I pulled my t-shirt and shorts on before we walked to his car so he could get out of his suit and put his surfboard away. I stopped short when he approached not his Chevelle, but a lime green, VW Westfalia bus that I’m pretty sure was made some time in the 1970s, the personalized plate of which reads: 4THZTMZ.

  “I’m confused,” I admitted, watching him open the barn-type doors of the “surfari” van, revealing a kitchenette inside.

  “Oh, this is just more practical for carting surfboards around. Plus, it comes in handy for those times when I shouldn’t be driving home. I don’t normally drive my car to parties…last weekend was a fluke and it’s also why I wasn’t drinking,” he explained with a wink when he understood what I meant by the look on my face.

  Again with the practicality, but I can see his point. His bus is decked out with a table, sink, ice box, a two burner stove, and is complete with not one, but two beds. The bench seat folds into one and there’s a pop-up sleeping compartment, too. It’s so cool! I love it. I love everything about it, including the color. The interior is a green plaid that matches the paint and the curtains on the windows.

  I climbed in to look around. “How fun is this!”

  “Yeah, it’s a blast and it makes little camping trips easy,” he agreed while yanking the zipper on the back of his wetsuit down.

  Ummm. Excuse me, Tristan? What about that indecent exposure thing?

  So, yeah. I was pretty much panicking, seeing as how he’d pulled his arms out of the wetsuit and was proceeding to remove the damned thing right in front of me. Seriously, he’s standing here, gloriously naked from the hips up, and for the life of me, I can’t not watch. So when he wrapped a towel around his waist and continued to more modestly shed his second skin, I didn’t know whether to thank him for keeping my virtuous eyes from being sullied, or pout and complain that he didn’t sully them. By the way, have you ever seen a surfer do this? If not, then trust me when I tell you; it’s quite the sight to behold.

  He finished putting his clothes on which, incidentally, I aided him in doing like a nurse in surgery. I kind of felt like Hot Lips in M*A*S*H every time he asked me to hand him an article of clothing…minus underwear. I’m not sure if he’s just not wearing any or if they were wadded up in his shorts because I didn’t think to check before I handed them over. I’m going to try not to obsess on that right now, though and thankfully, his question totally helped me in that.

  “Are you hungry?”

  “Are you trying to be funny? I think if I eat anything you’ll have to search out an unsuspecting pooch for me about thirty seconds after the food hits my stomach.” No food for me, thank you very much.

  He laughed at me again. “Well I am. There’s a really good pizza place down by the roller coaster. Come on, we can walk.”

  Awesome. Food and a roller coaster…just what I need.

  11.

  Oh, No He Isn’t!!!

  As we walked along the boardwalk, we talked about the usual kinds of things kids do when they’re getting to know each other. You know, music, movies, how much we hate school…stuff like that. I was sort of surprised to learn that Tristan and I have a lot of similar tastes in the music department, which is just one more hash mark for the MFEO checklist I have going in my head. And since I honestly feel that music plays an important part in peoples’ lives, I was relieved to find that we not only like a lot of the same kinds of popular stuff, but that he has a fondness for the oldies, too. Not oldies as in music from the ‘50s, but the ‘70s and ‘80s. I also found out that Tristan really knows his music. For instance, when I made a random comment referring to t
hat first party I went to that held the phrase “teenage wasteland,” he knew the correct title of The Who song to be “Baba O’Reily,” and really, not many kids in my generation know that. I was actually very impressed.

  When we got to the pizza joint and he received his two enormous slices of Hawaiian style pizza, which I count as just one more item to go in the pros column, Tristan ended up force-feeding me about one fourth of his meal. I tried to resist, honestly I did, but it smelled really good and he insisted I eat something. And since he was right about the ocean helping me feel better, I figured I should just take his word for it. Not surprisingly, he was right and, along with Mission Beach’s canine population, I could breath easy once again.

  During the hours we spent together, we learned a lot about each other and I found out that we actually have more than just music in common. For instance, we like a ton of the same movies, that like mine, his parents were high school sweethearts, and that aside from spiders; he likes all kinds of animals and even has his own horse. He not only reads, but likes it, and he happens to be just as well read as I am if not more so. I mean how hot is that? I also discovered that Tristan is exactly, give or take a few hours, one year and eleven months older than I am. My birthday is January 15th and his is on February 15th. Oh, he also admitted to being a fan of Buffy. He’s not quite as avid as I am, but I learned he does have a memory like a steel trap, which is why he can quote things the way he does.

  In the not so much in common category is the fact that he has no problem with math or tests, he’s kind of a morning person, and he’s an only child with very few rules. From what I gather, Tristan and his parents have a very relaxed and open relationship with each other and he’s essentially treated as an adult, if not an equal in the family.

  Another difference between us is that along with a lot of the kids I go to school with, his family is totally loaded. From what he said, the family money comes from his dad’s grandparents owning a ton of land in San Diego from way back when that his grandparents and parents have now either leased or developed in some way, and then there’s some property in Texas, too, and that land has oil rigs on it. And incidentally, I didn’t get this information because he was bragging about how much money he has; it came from him explaining what his parents do and why they do it, because even though neither of them need to, both of his parents work. And they work only because being pilots for the same airline, they get to be together all the time and they deeply love what they do.

  While we were talking about our families, my mom’s cancer came up and that’s when I told him I’d been home schooled. He asked what that was like and when I told him how much and why I’d loved it, Tristan asked me how I was adjusting to the change. I was honest and told him I was still trying to get used to the dynamics and meeting so many new people all at once, and also, my utter dislike of already having an enemy in Teresa, as well as my desire to just fit in as soon as possible. Then he made an attempt at empathy by telling me not to worry about it, that I’d be one of them and feel at home in no time.

  “Yeah, easy for you to say…you’ve been going to school with these people forever and every single one of them loves you,” I said in response.

  “No…not everyone,” he corrected.

  “How do you figure? I mean, from what I’ve seen it seems like they do…”

  He shrugged. “Zack won’t be shedding any tears at my funeral.”

  “Oh, okay…one person…that doesn’t exactly make you a social outcast.”

  “I think one person is enough.”

  His tone suggested he might be bothered by Zack disliking him so I ventured to find out. “Does that bother you? That you and Zack aren’t friends?”

  “Nope. The feeling’s mutual…he’s my Teresa. It’s just that our war has a brutality to it that yours and hers doesn’t.”

  “What do you mean?” A brutality? Eesh…

  “When we fight, we fight dirty, Camie,” he told me with a wink.

  “You guys don’t really fight, do you?” I asked, remembering that Kate had said he and Zack avoid each other, and other than my first day, I haven’t witnessed even the smallest altercation between them whatsoever.

  He looked at me then with a seriousness I couldn’t quite place and said, “Oh we fight alright…just not constantly. We sort of ah…take turns throwing punches and it’s not my turn right now. But if you stick around, I’m sure you’ll get to see it.”

  I dropped the subject after that, thinking if he wanted to expand on his answer, he would’ve, and also, that I’d very much like to stick around with him as long as possible.

  That previous, fleeting feeling I’d had when he drove me home from Mike’s party—that there’s something happening—was becoming more and more pronounced as we continued on, talking about other random things. And although there was an unexplained energy surrounding us, by the time we made the long walk back to his bus, I was feeling fatigued. My misadventure from last night has really taken a toll on me, not to mention being in the sun all day. So when we stopped next to the bus and I waited for him to pull his keys out, I couldn’t keep myself from squinting up into the sun and yawning.

  “Camie, you look really tired. Why don’t you take a nap?”

  “Actually, that sounds really good, but what are you gonna do? I don’t wanna force you to hang around and listen to me snore,” I told him in jest. I totally don’t snore. I don’t!

  “I’ll probably lay down too. You’re not the only one who woke up feeling like shit this morning,” he admitted. Huh. You would’ve never guessed. Obviously he’s had a lot more practice than I have and therefore knows the stupid rules, but still.

  Now are you ready for this next little scene in my fairytale day? Tristan opened the windows and pulled the drapes closed, then he plugged his iPod into some battery operated speakers, unfolded the couch—or bench seat if that’s what you want to call it—and then like today wasn’t already a dream come true for me, we stretched out together and took a nap. Honestly, this is a gazillion times better than when I got to cuddle with him and Mr. Darcy that day in English. I was so giddy I didn’t think I’d actually fall asleep, but I’m pretty sure I was out like a light because I don’t remember hearing anything after the first song.

  I woke up some time later to find it was just starting to get dark outside and heard a frustrated Tristan saying, “Jesus, Kate, what in God’s name is so fuckin’ important that you have to text and call every ten goddamned minutes? —Because she’s asleep!”

  “Not anymore,” I grumbled and looked over to see that Tristan was talking on my phone.

  “Here, talk to her yourself. You can apologize for waking her up, you pest,” Tristan said to her and then handed me my phone.

  I took the phone and gave him a “what the hell is going on” look. Then I told Kate what’d transpired to have Tristan able to answer my phone. Of course I had to be selective in the details and in how much enthusiasm my voice held, but Kate was smart enough not to grill me, knowing that Tristan was most likely sitting right there.

  I hung up with her and then tossing my phone back on the little shelf next to me, I turned back to him and asked, “What was that all about?”

  “When your phone first went off I was worried it might be something about your mom so I checked the caller ID and saw it was Kate. She’s been either texting or calling practically every ten minutes or so, it was making me nuts. I was about to tell her off when you woke up.” He sounds a little testy but I’m super glad he didn’t question my choice of ringtone for her; it’s the theme song from Mission Impossible.

  “I’m sorry, that’s probably my fault…I should’ve told her I was already down here. This morning I told her to call if she hadn’t heard from me by now and she’s been ready to go but she didn’t wanna leave me behind,” I told him through a yawn while I stretched my arms.

  “Did you get a good nap?” He asked while gazing down at me. Good grief…he is so very beautiful…

 
; “Mm-hmm. Did you?” I asked with a smile. His hair is kinda messy. It’s so cute.

  OH CRAP! If his hair is messy, what does my bed head look like?! I wonder if there’s a mirror anywhere in here…

  “Sorta…Kate woke me up though,” he pouted.

  “Aww, poor baby. Are you gonna be cranky now?” I teased and giggled at him.

  Laughing, he took his pillow and smooshed it in my face. “Look who’s talking. You practically bit my head off when I woke you up earlier.”

  “Yeah, get over it, ‘cause I’m not apologizing. That’s who I am...take it or leave it,” I said quite bluntly, although I really didn’t mean it to come out like that.

  Tristan grinned at me for a minute and then his eyes started to sparkle. “So, I’m assuming since you picked up on the whole ‘We Hate Teresa Club’ thing the way you did and being kind of a fan, you’re pretty familiar with the show.” How’s that for a drastic change of subject?

  “Again, you’d be correct. Even though it’s not on anymore, it holds the number one position in my top three favorites as far as TV goes.” I’m not sure where this came from or where he’s going with it, but I’m more than curious.

  “Sooo, you’d probably know what to say if I said… ‘I’m going to ask you to go out with me next weekend.’” Oh, no he isn’t!!! “—‘And I’m kinda nervous about it actually. It’s interesting,’” he said with the most irresistible lopsided grin ever.

  This is truly unreal. Just so you understand; he’s using a scene from Buffy to ask me out!!!! Oh, hold on. That’s my cue…

  “‘Oh! Well, if it helps at all, I’m gonna say yes,’” I replied, saying the next lines with a huge grin on my face and hoping he didn’t notice that I was having heart palpitations again.

  His eyes got even brighter when I picked it right up and then he continued with the lines. “‘Yeah, it helps. It creates a comfort zone… Do you wanna go out with me next weekend?’”