Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series)

by Cooksey, Jenn

  Supremely confident, Pete didn’t even bother to confirm his bull’s-eye, he simply stood up and gave Tristan a conciliatory pat on the back.

  “It’s just not your game.”

  Tristan turned with his hands in the air, questioning, as Pete started to walk away. “Where’re you goin’? I thought we were gonna work it out a little…”

  “We just did…plus you got your own stuff to work out,” Pete answered with a head nod in my direction. “So, I’m gonna give you some privacy while you do it.”

  “You’re gonna give me privacy? Since when?!” Tristan asked with sarcastic disbelief, like Pete had made some kind of ridiculous joke.

  “Since it’s the off season, dude. Besides, you know I’ll just watch the re-run on Borg TV come spring anyway, why see it twice?” Pete replied with a chuckle. Then as he walked past me, he dropped his voice and whispered, “He’s all yours…good luck.”

  Not to get off topic or anything, but let me ask you something really quick…did he say Borg? Like from Star Trek? Or was it bored? I know…neither makes sense but I really think it sounded like Borg. Huh…that’s just weird.

  Oh, sorry…where was I?

  Oh yeah…

  I watched Pete leave the room and didn’t have a clue what he meant about the off season or watching whatever on Borg(?) TV in the spring. I figured by how they’d said all that, though, it was some kind of inside joke, but since it didn’t have anything to do with me or this situation really, I just left it alone. I mean I’m not really in any position to be asking for more details about Tristan and his relationships with other people right now.

  However, everything they said informed me that although Tristan might not have said anything to his best friend about what happened, he’d clearly said something to Pete. I found that interesting but ultimately disregarded it as irrelevant to my task. I just need to bite the bullet here, say what I came to say and then see where that leaves me. I just hope I don’t end up being a blubbering mess by the time I know where that is.

  I approached Tristan slowly, biting back a wayward giggle when I heard him mutter to himself, “Asshole. Little sneak thief stole my goddamned M&Ms...” As I moved closer to him however, I felt like flinching when the previously jocular attitude he’d had while he’d been bantering with Pete was suddenly replaced with frigid emptiness.

  Ignoring me, or rather, not being willing to even look at me, he yanked Pete’s dart from the board and preparing to leave the pizza place via the back door he said, “I have nothing to say to you.”

  And so I began…

  “Fine, then you’ll be free to listen,” I said, catching up to him before he got all the way outside.

  “You don’t get it, do you? I’m over it. And I don’t hate you either, Camie…that would require me to feel something for you and I don’t. I just didn’t return your messages because none of this is worth my time.”

  Tristan said it all like he very much meant every word. Then he finally tasted the fresh air as the door closed behind him.

  Yeah. It hurt. I felt tears begin to sting the backs of my eyes but then something occurred to me… The other day Tristan told me that Zack and he take turns throwing punches and that, right now, it isn’t his turn. Only it is. I’d hurt him this morning and he’s fighting back. I’ll be honest; it kind of pissed me off. I mean here he is, trying to hurt me on purpose and I could maybe understand that if I’d hurt him intentionally, but the big obstinate jerk won’t even give me the chance to explain that the whole thing was just a ridiculous, yet totally believable series of misunderstandings and that I had freaking grounds to think what I did!

  Okay, maybe being kind of pissed off isn’t quite accurate.

  I shoved through the door, hot on his trail, and as calmly as I could for being as morally peeved as I was I said, “I don’t give a rat’s ass if you’re over it, Tristan! I’m not and I deserve the chance to be heard and if you don’t give it to me, then you’re not worth my time.”

  “Yeah see, that’s the beauty of being me in this…I get to not care about any of that because of the two of us, I’m not the new kid trying to fit in.”

  It was a particularly snide thing to say and made me show my distaste in my face. And just so you have an idea what that looks like, my dad calls that expression the “I smell a fart face.” It’s not the most ladylike way to put it, but hey, it’s spot on.

  Now, I don’t know what exactly made me say it but a reminder of what he’d said to me this morning came out of my mouth and changed the course of—well, everything I guess.

  “This morning you said you thought I was different…well, just so you know, I thought you were too. And I can assure you, the disappointment is entirely mutual. Not to mention that from now on, watching my favorite TV show is only gonna remind me of a callous jerk and how completely wrong I was about him.” Crestfallen and with tears pricking the backs of my eyes again, I turned to go inside.

  He caught my arm to stop me, the jolt of his touch producing an almost irresistible desire—an unfathomable longing for the impossible. In that single moment, all I wanted was to press my body to his and have his lips on mine. I shoved the thought and inclination away with force and ignored them. And I tried to ignore him too; I couldn’t. I just couldn’t ignore his words and their subtle suggestion that we have something...and that it might be worth trying to find out what exactly that is.

  “I wanted to hate you. I even tried, but...I can’t do it. And it’s not because I don’t feel anything.”

  “So do you maybe think we’re both still right?”

  “About being different?” I sniffled back my tears and nodded. “I honestly don’t know, but I do know that I don’t like making you cry…I don’t especially care for what being wrong would mean either.”

  “Um…I don’t know what that means,” I admitted and felt my face flush just slightly.

  I’m hoping it means Tristan might be willing to get back in the boat of his own volition. It might seem like a lot to hope for at this point, but that tender compassion I’d heard from him at Mike’s was very evident in his voice and expression again so, I’m gonna go ahead and hope. And at the very least, now I know he hadn’t truly meant the cruel things he said before.

  He looked at me for a thoughtful and unnervingly long minute before letting out a small “Humph.” Then he said, “I guess it means that if you’re game, we can give it another go.”

  I swallowed my inner whooping and jumping for joy and tried to just play it cool. “Yeah, I guess…my Friday just opened up so I think I can squeeze you in then.”

  Tristan grinned at my attempt at lightening the mood. “Sure, pencil me in for Friday. Just do me a favor, Camie, try not to have me father any other kids from now on. Oh wait, I take that back. As long as we’re not successful, I’m up for trying if you are.”

  Yeah, I was stunned stupid and speechless. I just stood there, not knowing what to say about his blatant suggestion that we have sex.

  Then I realized Tristan was trying to lighten the mood in his own way by teasing me and making a joke about my faux pas when he flashed me an impish look and innocently asked, “What? Too soon?”

  In relief, I blew out the breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding and with my own puckishness I said, “Uh, ya think? I mean my cheeks aren’t even dry yet, Tristan. Plus, we barely know each other. Not to mention that success is pretty important to me. I hate not accomplishing the things I set out to do…it makes me feel like I’m a failure.”

  Tristan started laughing about that and when he stopped; I explained why I’d thought what I did. Now that he’d allowed himself to cool off and was finally prepared to listen to me, he was pretty great about seeing the situation from my side. When I finished, I looked up and noticed he was staring at me in sort of an odd way, like he was debating something. I wasn’t going to say anything but when he started drumming his fingers on his thigh, I just couldn’t resist.

  “What? Why are you looking at
me like that?”

  “Mmm…just out of curiosity, would it have mattered?” He asked in a way that made me think that wasn’t what he’d actually been questioning.

  “Would what have mattered?” I asked, not following at all.

  “If I had been Joey’s father would it have mattered to you?”

  I wasn’t prepared for that and I hadn’t ever come to a decision about it so I just told him the truth. “Honestly, I don’t know. I mean I spent the entire night awake asking myself that exact question and I never came up with an answer, but I do know that I would’ve had no problem being your friend. That I’m sure of.”

  “Humph,” he uttered with a small nod.

  I thought he’d asked what was on his mind but he was still looking at me in that undecided way, making me wonder if there was more to it or if my answer just wasn’t as definitive as he was wanting it to be. “You’re still staring at me…”

  “Oh, well I kinda wanna kiss you right now,” he told me in a rather contemplative, yet offhanded way, like he was just thinking out loud while he was trying to decide if he should or not.

  “So why not just kiss me,” I said, trying to help him out of his conundrum. I mean I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to doing a little smooching after this narrowly avoided disaster, you know?

  “Mmm, I would, but I kinda don’t wanna just kiss you.”

  Of course I didn’t really know what he meant by that. I mean, does he not want to kiss me or does he? This really isn’t a hard question, you know what I mean? Well, that is unless you acknowledge the possibility that he could’ve been talking about having sex again. Regardless, I wanted to know what he meant and I was about to ask but right then, Kate, Jeff, and another guy found us outside and all three of them informed us that Tristan needed to come check Conner out; he’d either just sliced through his finger or burnt himself on the pizza oven, or I think maybe both. I don’t know though…the guys were doing that excited talking over each other thing so it was hard to follow.

  “Why Tristan?” I asked Kate, looking for an answer as to why he was needed in this scenario.

  “Oh, he’s a State Beach lifeguard and like the next best thing to a paramedic. Conner doesn’t wanna go to the hospital and half the guys think he should and the other half doesn’t, but they’ll all shut up and listen to what Tristan says.”

  “Oh,” I said and then realized she didn’t look too good. “Um, are you okay?”

  “No, I’m not. That was seriously gross. I mean he was bleeding all over a pepperoni and sausage pizza. In fact, if I don’t stop picturing it I’ll totally throw up,” Kate answered with a nauseated grimace and then, nodding to Tristan with her chin as we followed him and the guys back into the main dining area, she asked, “Did you guys talk?”

  “Yeah, we got it all straightened out and we’re back on for our date.”

  “Thank God… Okay well, I’m guessing he’s gonna be a while so do you mind if I take you home? I really don’t feel good anymore,” she told me, looking more than a little green around the gills.

  “Yeah sure, no problem,” I answered automatically.

  I’d love to stay and hang out and watch Tristan do whatever it is he does, but if what Conner just did to himself is as disturbing as it sounds, then no thanks, I think I’ll pass. I mean playing Tristan’s nurse in the surgery of him getting dressed is one thing, but aiding him in actual bloody first aid is quite another.

  Kate caught up to Jeff to tell him we were leaving and when Tristan overheard, he turned back to me and with twinkling eyes and an unmistakable playfulness, he confirmed our date by saying, “So don’t forget to put me down for epic failure and a complete lack of success on Friday…say about six, okay?”

  I couldn’t help it; I rolled my eyes and just gave him a sarcastic thumbs up. Actually, the eye roll was more for me because although I’m sure if I’d agreed, he’d no doubt have gone through with his prior teasing proposal, and I now think that’s exactly what it was. He’d been playing with me and I totally fell for it. And not that I really mind, but it seems we’ve set a precedent with this kind of teasing so I guess I should try to learn when to take him seriously and when to laugh him off.

  I climbed in bed that night feeling overwhelming relief about having made it through what I thought was sure to be a disaster of epic proportions. I listened to the playlist I’d made of the songs Tristan and I kissed to on Saturday and instead of crying like this morning when I’d listened to it, I found myself unable to wipe the smile from my face, thinking about what our date on Friday would be like. When the last of the four songs started playing—the one by Limp Bizkit—I snuggled down even further into my pillow and with a sigh, I fell asleep, congratulating myself on having built a bridge with Tristan, even though the situation didn’t quite fall apart and my heart wasn’t broken like the song says.

  Little did I know it though, I wasn’t quite done living out the lyrics to that particular song, or, as it would turn out, several other songs as well…

  13.

  The Worst Sort Of Vengeance

  My morning at school was weird. All the kids in my classes, including Michele, were giving me odd looks. After last week, I kept wondering if I had something in my hair again but each time I checked a mirror, my hair was fine. I mean, Teresa was her usual self—running her mouth behind her hand—but the only thing she has on me this time is my atrocious appearance on Saturday night. And honestly, I really don’t care if she tells the entire world I was at a beach party in mismatched and ill fitting clothing.

  English gave me a much-appreciated break from having my wardrobe critiqued, though, and as a bonus, Tristan and Jeff abandoned showing up early to class so, Tristan and I actually sat next to each other. Plus, instead of directing most of his conversation to Jeff, Tristan included Kate and me in it, which just adds to my relief of last night. Of course there was no real direct communication at lunch, but he didn’t bolt when I walked up to talk to Kristen, which was where he was standing with Mike. That was also when I found out that Conner hadn’t needed to go to the hospital.

  I guess once Conner’s wound got cleaned, it wasn’t found to be deep enough to warrant stitches and the burn wasn’t a big deal either. From the way it sounded, I’m guessing Kate over-reacted. Either that or she just gets queasy at the sight of a little blood, which I can understand. I mean I don’t get sick watching horror movies or anything, but real-life blood and gore is different for some reason. Oh, during that conversation I also found out that Tristan had agreed to talk to Conner’s ex for him. Apparently she’s the girl I’d overheard breaking up with her boyfriend over the phone; her friends sound just as shallow now as did they did then. Get this, they think Conner is beneath them simply because he comes from a single parent household and has to work to help out with the family’s finances, plus, he doesn’t have his own car. I mean really, this is exactly the kind of stuff that makes you ashamed to be a member of the human race.

  Anyhow, that pretty much sums up my Tuesday. I know, it’s not much in the way of excitement but what do you expect, I’m in high school. Besides, it was a Tuesday for crying out loud. I mean, does anything noteworthy ever really happen on Tuesdays?

  Wednesday however…well, Wednesday brought some drama, as they are wont to do at times. I got to school and once I’d taken my seat in geometry, I immediately knew something was up. No one said anything but it was totally obvious. And I knew I was at the center of whatever was going on when the looks I’d been getting yesterday became increasingly more plentiful, and, more odious as the morning wore on.

  Fed up, I cornered Michele after our fourth period class and asked her point blank what was going on. “Okay, what is going on? You and everyone else are acting really weird.”

  “Don’t pretend like you don’t know, Camie,” she snapped.

  “Pretend like I don’t know what?! If I knew what was going on, why would I need to ask? I mean, did I screw up the bell curve or something?” I asked, totally
not getting why she’s behaving like this.

  “Fine, let me ask you something then…what happened at that party when you got that drink spilled all over you?” She asked stiffly.

  I’m getting the really suspicious feeling that Michele is waiting to pass judgment on me about something, but I’ve no idea what for. I mean no one aside from a few toddlers and their moms, Tristan, Kate, and apparently Pete know about what happened yesterday. But even if everyone knew, that really doesn’t explain these repellent attitudes towards me.

  “Umm, I got a pitcher of red booze poured all over me, I learned to play Quarters, and that’s pretty much it. Oh, Tristan Daniels gave me one of his shirts to wear because mine was totally drenched and later he drove me home because my ride had been drinking,” I explained, giving as many details as I could remember that might have some bearing on this.

  “And the party this past Friday?”

  “Uh, let’s see…I played Quarters for a little bit, got shoved in the pool…good thing I was already wearing my bathing suit, which the punch fiasco had inspired me to do, and umm…I sat in the hot tub with Kate and a bunch of other people.” Jeez, this feels like the freaking Spanish Inquisition. Not that I was there to know what that felt like, but I’m just sayin’...I imagine it was rather uncomfortable for those being grilled.

  “That’s it? That’s the truth? Nothing else happened?”

  “Yeah, that’s it. Oh, well I’ll tell you but please don’t tell anyone else, I’d be really embarrassed about it…I sorta threw up on someone’s dog at the party Friday night,” I admitted, thinking maybe that’s what this is all about.

  She laughed about that, apologized for acting so strange, and then explained why she and half the school had been staring at me for almost two days.