Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3)

by Jenn Cooksey

  From the very beginning, it was decided we would be brutally honest with each other. If one of us said or did something the other didn’t like, we said so with the understanding that it wasn’t meant to be hurtful or judgmental. It was an opportunity to get it right. And we would speak our minds if there was something one of us wanted or particularly liked too. It was a forum to learn and practice without emotional risk. So we began. We were both pleased to discover I had some natural inclinations so she didn’t have to walk me through too much of the initial physical shit, but she most certainly opened the vault on the mystery of girls and taught me an assload about how to read between the lines of what a girl might be saying and not saying, what they really mean when they say something obscure, and ultimately, how to become the embodiment of what every girl fantasizes about in a guy. But she also explained that not all girls are the same and I’d need to pick up on the differences in subtle, silent messages they’d give and learn to adapt if I wanted to be successful. And, I learned to appreciate, value, and most importantly, respect girls. Well, most of them anyway…I have a big issue with chicks who don’t respect me, so it’s kind of a two-way street in my book.

  I also learned some basic self-preservation skills, like how to go about letting a girl know upfront that I’m not interested in anything more than the present without hurting her feelings or making her want to seek revenge on me after the fact. In addition, Mia taught me how to recognize warning signs of the potential stalkers, the desperate girls who I might feel bad for but would only end up hurting in some way, and, the emotional basket cases who I really wanna avoid playing the game with at all costs.

  Some of that is why I’ve completely shied away from taking a girl’s virginity. I’ve had the opportunity, but usually for a girl, losing her virginity is way different than it is for a guy. Now this is a generalization, but like how Jeff described his first real kiss, the only thing most guys are concerned with their first time having sex is that they’re actually doing it and the hope that they get to do it again. Soon. However, for a girl, heavy emotions are involved. They usually want or need to really know the guy, have feelings for him that are reciprocated, trust and feel safe with him, and so on. It’s a big deal and it’s too easy for a misplaced attachment to be formed, and that’s one of those things I try to avoid because it would end up being hurtful in the end. Besides, most girls usually prefer to have whoever they give it up to stick around for more than an hour or two afterwards. I’m not a hit it and quit it kind of guy, but I don’t wanna have breakfast in bed either. Well, that doesn’t apply to Camie. She’s the exception.

  I didn’t really put it into words for Camie that night in the desert when I told her I wouldn’t get her naked, partly because having her naked would’ve been pure, unadulterated torture for me at the time, and I might’ve chosen to abandon my personal tenet on the subject of girls and the first time they have sex. But honestly, I really do feel very strongly about the manner in which a girl loses her virginity and it’s just not something I feel should be taken lightly, and in my opinion, having sex for the first time isn’t a decision that should be made under the influence of me or an ingested substance. I guess you can look at it as my way of choosing wisely and trying to stay in Eve’s good graces…

  Anyway, that’s how it started and there’s absolutely never been any strings attached to either of us but, we had rules...like Fight Club. The first rule was you don’t talk about what you do with anyone. Period. The second rule…you don’t talk about what you do with anyone. Rumors of conquests and the like might be good for one of the people involved but usually, running your mouth about the shit you do in private is the fastest way to cause drama and horrific problems for one or both of you and it’s a hell of a lot harder for a girl to overcome a bad reputation than it is for a guy. Now, Jeff knows a little because he’s a fuckin’ dick and likes to ask me shit when I’m practically comatose, and Kate knows what Jeff tells her, but Pete? Well, Pete knows a lot…and there’s just nothing I can do about that, however, he typically doesn’t question me and all three of them know better than to enlighten the masses, so I just pretend like they don’t know shit. And yeah, now and then I might mention some general stuff to people I think I can trust, but even so, I’ve never been specific about the who that stuff was done with. I also have a tendency to not play in my own backyard. I’m not stupid…working twenty minutes away at a beach that’s frequented year-round by locals and tourists alike has more than the one advantage of being able to walk twenty feet to go surfing after your shift is over, which makes keeping my private life out of the school’s gossip column and rules number one and two quite a bit easier to manage.

  Another rule of ours was that Mia and I would never “sleep” together. For one thing, Mia doesn’t really sleep, but that was actually my rule and I’ve held to it with every girl I’ve ever been with up until Camie. Now, that’s not to say I haven’t slept while Mia was cleaning her apartment or reading a book, or that I haven’t passed out next to a chick, or two, but it’s different. In my mind, true sleeping is highly intimate. Plus, I’m an admitted and unabashed snuggler, which makes me feel sorta vulnerable…almost like a baby. To put it plainly, I just didn’t wanna wake up next to someone I didn’t care very deeply about. And the only reason I took that nap with Camie that day at the beach was because even though I barely knew her, I still knew her. Deep down, I knew her and it just felt right. So yeah, I was saving my sleeping self for love. Call me oddly sentimental or eccentric maybe, but, there it is.

  And one other thing Mia and I lived by was that if we happened to find ourselves in public or at the same social event, a careful offer could be made, as was the case when I sabotaged Melissa, but if one of us wasn’t up for it for any reason, that was that. Again, period. No explanation, no whining, no begging, no tantrums, no jealousy, no hurt feelings, no guilt trips, and no grudges. And that was actually the easy part because the relationship we had was purely physical. Yes, we’re friends and we’ve had P-L-E-N-T-Y of deep, lay it all out there kinds of conversations and through those we’ve come to honestly care about each other as much as close friends would. In fact, Mia could be considered a female Jeff to me and I trust her implicitly but, again, through those conversations we know without a doubt that neither of us has ever looked at the other and wished it was more.

  We’re very similar in behavior, but not in the way that makes us compatible outside of the sexual realm. Plus, we don’t want the same things from life. Basically, over the years Mia and I have discovered we’re sort of kindred spirits, but where she’s perfectly happy to be a gypsy when it comes to relationships with a deep belief that people aren’t meant to be monogamous, I’ve always felt that there’s somebody out there specifically meant for me and I’ve been looking for that somebody; for who Mia, after watching Hot Tub Time Machine one too many times, now calls my Great White Buffalo. I’ll admit I actually considered Ted Nugent’s song by that title for Camie’s first ringtone, but, I really don’t like the song and the title alone, funny and applicable as it is, wasn’t worth it.

  So, knowing all that, hopefully you can see it’s not that Mia’s the devil and I’m worried about running into her or being tempted to go off and screw her for days on end, but still keeping to the rules, I’ve never told Camie a single thing about Mia. I was going to, at some point, because I know she’s curious and I didn’t really wanna keep things from her, however, and it might sound like a copout but, Camie…well, Camie gets distinctly nervous about this kind of stuff as well as about my past and her insecurity makes her a little jealous. Plus, she has a temper which can lead to arguments I just don’t wanna have with her or anyone really, so it was kind of a timing issue I guess. Because honestly, it’s not like explaining Mia to her, which would take planning and a vast amount of delicacy, was something I could really do before or after our fight that one night when the student became the teacher and we really started to open up, or, at the breakfast table or on the driv
e to school the next morning.

  So, as Mia walked up to Brandon and me, I prayed like holy hell Mia hadn’t let anything slip about knowing me in any way, because I know my baby…she’d start asking questions about how and Mia? Well, she might not answer them directly, but, she might’ve asked some of her own questions in return and again, I know my baby; she’d end up answering them. Only, she’d be giving incorrect answers to the one person who, without having to look at me or talk to me, would know those answers are wrong. I just hope that if Camie did happen to say anything in front of Mia that Mia knows me well enough to know that if I’m letting Camie believe lies, I’m doing it for a reason and that she doesn’t get involved or try to correct those answers.

  There, deep breath…my freakout is over.

  “Hello, lover. It’s nice to see you too,” Mia said with amusement at having visually caught my whole reaction to seeing her, which had me rolling my eyes.

  “Hello, sweetheart,” I replied genuinely and gave her a small smile.

  Yeah, that’s right. I called her sweetheart. Because when you spend a decent amount of time with a girl with or without clothes, they inevitably end up seeing the ugly side of you that your own mother would have a hard time accepting, and then when they still care enough about you to essentially bear the brunt of your idiosyncrasies, shitty attitudes and foul mood swings without question or complaint, they get to be called sweetheart and other silly terms of endearment. And believe me, I’m not always the nicest of guys so after five and a half years of dealing with my shit, Mia’s earned it. Of course, had Camie been anywhere in earshot I probably wouldn’t have even said hi, but truth be told, if it weren’t for Camie, Mia would’ve gotten a kiss too.

  And she knows it. The sparkle in her eyes and her answering smile told me she understands exactly why my lips didn’t come anywhere near her and she’s cool with it, but that also means she definitely met Camie and knows who she is. Then she transferred her admittedly alluring gaze to Brandon who looked to be a little amused with the greeting process between Mia and me. Again, I don’t blame him. He knows I’m in love with Camie and here I am completely okay with being called lover by another chick and calling her sweetheart in return…but again, five and a half years of dealin’ with each other’s shit. That’s all I’m sayin’.

  “Well don’t you look fun…” she said in observation, which was actually just this side of an almost blatant invitation to go play.

  Poor guy. Brandon definitely falls into the category of guys who’d know what that was about and what to do on the playground, but his denigrated expression told me he was disappointed in himself. You see, any which way you look at it, even when she’s not trying, there isn’t much about Mia’s physical appearance that isn’t arousing in some way. I swear it’s like she was built with seduction in mind. She’s got jet black hair that doesn’t reach her shoulders—she calls it sassy and flirty; I call it short—her lips are kinda pouty and provocative unless she’s smiling, which somehow always comes across looking erotic too, and her eyes are an emerald green color that ooze suggestion at every glance and give the term bedroom eyes new meaning. She’s about 5’9” and her body is sleek like a cat’s with curves in all the right places, and even if she were wearing a fuckin’ paper sack she would look like she just slid off the cover of Penthouse. But being in a similar boat as he is, it was clear to me that Brandon wasn’t affected by her in the slightest and I had to work hard to keep my sympathy from showing on my face when he just stared blankly at her and blandly said, “Likewise.”

  “If you’ll promise to play nice, I’ll introduce you,” I said and indicated Brandon with my chin. If my guess is right, I doubt she’ll get to him, but being hit on might cheer him up a little.

  “I always play nice,” Mia replied with an enthusiastic wink.

  “Humph, that’s debatable…Brandon meet my sweetheart, Mia…she’s really not all sugar and spice though,” I said and stuck my tongue out at her. “And Mia, meet Brandon. Under different circumstances I bet he’d give you a run for your money.”

  She responded by raising her eyebrows in interest. Poor Mia, I have a feeling she’s gonna wind up being disappointed.

  “It’s true. As much as I hate to admit it, my dick only has an eye for another…and I’ll have you both know, impotency fucking sucks,” he said in self-deprecation.

  “I can help you with that…” Aaaand there’s the point blank offer. Nice.

  I raised my eyebrows at him to say, “It’s up to you,” but after checking her out briefly, Brandon declined by saying, “I bet you could, and like my pimp here said, under different circumstances I’d be happy to get better acquainted but…it’s too soon…just too fuckin’ soon.”

  “Ahh, you’re the cheating bastard the knockout inside mentioned…let me guess, you wouldn’t dream of cheating on her and never have but you didn’t deny it when she accused you because you took it to be a hurtful insult and I’m guessing you’re the kind of guy who thinks he’s above owing anyone an explanation about anything so you broke up with her instead. Am I close?” Mia, not playing all that nice, openly psychoanalyzed him and threw in a little dig at the same time just because she could. I felt like saying, “Told you so,” to both of them.

  “So dude, I’m gonna go get drunk and see if I can still shred when I’m hammered…you still gonna drive me?” Brandon asked, completely dismissing Mia, her question, and her put down. I wasn’t sure whether to wince or laugh… Seriously, I bet these two would kill each other without a referee.

  “Sure thing, I’ll text you when I get done here…but uh, stay sober enough to avoid Bigfoot. At least until I get there…trust me.”

  “Whatever you say, lover…see you in a couple hours,” he said more like himself and gave Mia a wink before he turned and left us.

  “Well, that was a little disappointing. Shred what and drive him where?” She asked as she watched Brandon start up his bike and drive away.

  “Guitar and to get another piercing. He’s, ah, fond of sticking holes in various parts of his body, just like your average, sinning rock star,” I told her and before she could ask, I closed my eyes, nodded my head and said, “Mm-hm.” To which she replied by sighing a little and staring longingly at the taillights of Brandon’s motorcycle. “Sorry, sweetheart, I tried but I think he’s gonna be out of commission for a while.”

  “That’s a shame, but, speaking of that…I saw a picture of your tattoo. There can be only one? Isn’t that from Highlander?”

  I was mentally whining and stomping my foot, but in response I simply sighed, closed my eyes again, and nodded.

  “Lover, you know just as well as I do that the Highlander is Helix’s mascot…”

  I raised my arms to my sides and dropped them in resignation because although I love what it means to Camie and more specifically, to me, I wasn’t actually thrilled with permanently inking a phrase contained in a movie with the title bearing the same name of my school’s rival mascot on my body, so thanks for bringing it up, Mia, you suck.

  “Oh, well, what’s done is done I guess… So, if I read the symbolism correctly, shortly after I left in June you somehow managed to fall in love with a virgin. Would I be correct in guessing that she remains pure as un-driven snow to this day?” Goddamnit…I knew if she ever got a good look at that as well as Camie, she’d put two and two together and wouldn’t be able to help herself. She won’t be anything near as bad as Jeff, but still, this bites.

  I met the humor in her eyes head on and again, just nodded.

  “Oh dearheart,” she sighed, “You must be going for the Olympic Gold in masturbation.”

  “Try Guinness Book.”

  “I bet…take your shirt off,” she chuckled and then demanded of me.

  Now, in the past she and I have gotten into it when she made demands I didn’t feel like complying with, usually because I was tired and she wasn’t, and somehow or another she almost always got her way in the end, but with the advent of Camie, Mia�
��s gotta know I’m not doin’ shit with her anymore. At least not until I decide one way or the other what I’m gonna do about the fucked up mess that is my relationship with Camie right now. Hell, I’m not even all that comfortable simply talking to her in an essentially deserted setting because Camie’s inside a building close by even though the building doesn’t have any goddamned windows where someone might see us. And even if I were to decide to really and truly let Camie go, because that’s the only way I’ll ever be able to have anything like sex again, I have a feeling I won’t be able to get it up anyway. I’m gonna fuckin’ end up like Brandon permanently, I just know it.

  “Fuck no,” I said like I thought maybe she’d taken temporary leave of her senses, because really…even better than Jeff, Mia knows me. I think that might be because she’s an unbiased girl and we have the brutal honesty rule…I tend to find it easier to talk to her and plus, she’s more compassionate about this sort of stuff than he his. I’m not sure, but whatever, it’s not the point, the point is she’d have to be insane to think I’d risk something so important to me for doing something with her that might be a lot of fuckin’ fun after five arduous months of celibacy on my part, but what ultimately means diddley-squat to either of us.

  “Get your mind out of the gutter…I know better than to try to seduce or entrap you, I just wanna see something,” she told me in irritation and rolled her eyes.

  “I would hope so, Mia, Jesus…but still, you know how much it bugs the shit outta me when you do that and I don’t wanna take my fucking shirt off.”

  “Oh quit it, you big baby,” she said and not taking no for an answer—not unlike her at all by the way—she swiftly moved behind me and before I could turn around and stop her, she was lifting the back of my shirt all the way up. “Uh-huh…that’s what I thought. Your contract has a date that hers doesn’t.”