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

by Jenn Cooksey

  She sniffled and as she wiped at her eyes, she walked into my arms and said, “I never thought about it like that…I don’t know why it never occurred to me that she and I aren’t the only ones who are confused and hurting…”

  “I know and I’m sure he’ll understand that too, because regardless of how or why things between him and Camie are the way they are right now, nothing’s really changed…he’s still Tristan. He’s still our friend and he knows we both love him but he doesn’t need either of us interfering, so, let’s drop it and just have sex…for Tristan’s sake. I’m sure he’d be totally cool with that,” I told her and started kissing her.

  “Um, babe? I understand now why I should probably cool it with my theories and everything, but, ah…are you gonna try to tell me you misspoke like Pete did when you called Camie Tristan’s girlfriend a few minutes ago?” She asked with a smile as she stepped out of my arms a little to scrutinize my face.

  I took her smile and the power going out as signs that I wasn’t required to answer that and pulled her back to me so I could continue kissing my pit-bull, who I might add, reached behind her to make sure the door was locked before she yanked off her fashion show sundress.

  I know, right? YAY ME!

  Are you calling me a chicken? ~ Tristan

  Okay, so I have an idea of where she is, but what do I say when I find her?!

  I’d just asked myself that question when I slowed to an uncertain stop backstage. Honestly, this situation couldn’t be more delicate if it was a dried out sand dollar and I’ve recently shown such a massive lack of handling interactions with Camie with genteel aplomb that I’m starting to wonder if maybe I should put it off until I can think about what I’m going to s—

  “So, how was your doctor appointment? Are you still a straight A student?” Camie asked from behind me which actually, and sadly, made me jump.

  I did catch the sarcasm in her voice but at the moment, I’m too freaked out about how I’m gonna explain that I didn’t cheat on her at any time or screw Mia over the weekend to care why it was there, or that her questions didn’t relate to each other at all.

  Huh. Maybe I should just let her believe I did cheat on her. I mean, it’s better than the truth, right? Think she’ll be cool with that explanation and be willing to overlook my made up transgression? I know, I know. Fuck.

  I mentally pulled myself together and still unsure of what I was gonna say, I turned to face her and seeing the indignant irritation in her expression and the toe tapping she was doing, I immediately went into explanation by way of groveling with diarrhea of the mouth mode. I’m pathetic.

  “It’s not what you think! I—” Was how I began when she interrupted me and because I was so focused on issuing what I was hoping would be a reasonable explanation said in a way she would believe and maybe even help her to understand that I’m interested in trying to work things out, I talked over her in return and kept on doing that until she stopped trying to interrupt me.

  “You d—”

  “—I didn’t mean to give you the wrong idea on Sunday, Camie, honestly. I meant that I went home and literally slept—”

  “Tristan, I—”

  “—the rest of the night. Alone! I went home alone and stayed alone and slept alone! I went to the party early specifically so I wouldn’t even see her, and nothing happened with her the night of your party either, honestly, you have to believe me, I—”

  “She tol—”

  “—haven’t even seen her since the beginning of June! Before I ever even saw you that first time, I swear! And I swear I was gonna tell you about her, but there was never a good time, and I had no idea the two of you would ever run into each other and have a reason to talk because if I had, I promise I would’ve prepared you for it so you weren’t put in the situation you were in at that party! OH! Which I just found out about today! I didn’t know Jeff introduced you to her two weeks ago, and if I’d known sooner, please believe I would’ve said something then instead of just now…I’m still gonna tear Jeff a new asshole though…and she’s really not a bad a person, so I hope you didn’t take whatever she said or did personally because she really didn’t mean anything by it.

  “Not that I’ve been seeing her or talking to her at all! Well, I mean just now I talked to her for maybe like five minutes outside of the gym in full sight of anyone who happened to be there, so nothing happened, oh and Brandon was there, he’ll confirm that if you need him to. He feels like shit about breaking up with Melissa too, in fact I’m supposed to go keep him company after the rehearsal so that’s where I’ll be, just so we’re clear, and while I’m being clear, I haven’t seen or talked to Mia since June! Oh, wait, I think I said that already…but it’s the truth! And there’s absolutely nothing going on with her or any—why do you look like you’re about to choke?” I stopped abruptly and asked when it occurred to me that Camie’s shoulders were shuddering and it looked like she had liquid in her mouth that she was desperately trying to not spit out everywhere, all of which made it appear like she was choking and almost having convulsions.

  It wasn’t liquid she was holding in her mouth though. It was uncontrollable laughter. And when it came out, I knew I’d been rambling and groveling for no reason. She was never really upset with me about this whole misunderstanding and I’m guessing she believed Mia when she’d told Camie I hadn’t been with her the night of her party. But damn, that wasn’t nice. I mean not even a little! Camie just stood there and let me go on and on, making a complete idiot out of myself!

  “I can’t believe you let me do that…that’s just mean, Camie…mean,” I told her in something close to resentment. I think the only reason I didn’t yell though was because I was really enjoying watching and listening to her laugh. Her face lights up and there’s a musical quality to her laugh that draws me in and holds me captive…

  “Mean? You don’t get to call me mean, Tristan…let’s not forget who broke up—” Camie said through her laughter before I almost interrupted her.

  I opened my mouth and said, “I didn—” and then I snapped my mouth shut again and let her keep going because really, telling her I didn’t break up with her probably wouldn’t go over well.

  “—with whom on her birthday! And I did try to stop you…besides, if you could’ve seen and heard yourself, you would be laugh—”

  It was pure reflex. When Camie screamed and jumped as a noise that sounded like a gunshot ripped the air, my automatic instinct was to protect her even though I knew it wasn’t a gunshot, so that’s how I found myself hunched over her with one of my arms holding her pressed against me and the other covering her head like I was a human shield of some kind. We were so close. Our eyes locked and we were almost lost, however just before our lips connected and set us both on fire, I realized and pulled back. I really, really didn’t want to, but I did and judging from her expression when I forced myself to look at her again, Camie wasn’t happy about what’d just happened either. Again, fuck!

  “I—Sorry. Are you okay?” I asked and begrudgingly let go of her, realizing for the first time as my arm left her bare waist that she was wearing a two-piece bathing suit instead of the one-piece the store had wanted her to wear.

  “Yeah, I’m fine…um, thanks, I guess,” Camie replied, trying to hide her agitation and irritation under a thin veil of feigned politeness. I don’t know what I expected from her though after having almost forced myself on her again. Jesus, I think I need professional help.

  As she turned to walk away, I remembered the change in suits and gesturing to it I asked, “Hey, what’s with the change?”

  She swiveled back to face me and instead of looking irritated, she wore a teasing expression and answered, “Oh, you must’ve missed the memo…all the swimwear was changed. Have fun with that.”

  What the hell? I watched her walk away in a skimpy little bikini that has what looks like Superman’s S emblem on it and tried to not growl as my palms burned with the desire to haul her off somewhere away from p
ublic sight so I can pretend I’m blind and read that S emblazoned on her ass like it’s written in Braille, while wondering what the change is and why it was made. Growling to myself, a little audibly I might add, I went in search of my changed swimwear to see what she meant by her last comment. What I found did not make me happy…

  “Hey Jamie, what the fuck?” I questioned and tossed the Batman Speedo at her. I mean for fuck’s sake, there’s a utility belt! Not a real one; it’s only a graphic, but still.

  “Oh, well, the store just got this comic book hero line in and they wanted to make the change, and you’re the only one signed up for swimwear who really has the body to pull it off, so that’s why you got the briefs. And look, I’m sorry this was sprung on you so last minute, but I only found out today…I mean, this whole damned rehearsal is going to hell in a hand-basket and no one will listen to me or do what they’re supposed to do and I’m really stressing, so can you please just change, Tristan?”

  “Uh, no?! Jamie, I’m not wearing this!” It’s one thing to wear a Speedo for swim or polo because they let you move and they’re good for speed, and besides, we typically don’t parade around in them and anyway, two years ago both my teams crossed over to wearing swim jammers which are a competitive suit that goes almost to the knees, and I’m sorry Jamie’s having a rough time, but I’ll be damned if I’m gonna strut around on dry land in front of God and everyone wearing something that has less coverage than an actual fucking utility belt!

  “You know what?! You have to, so just deal with it!” She said and threw the damned suit back at me and then turned in a huff and muttering to her self as she went, “Two days before the damned show…I am sick and tired of dealing with all these crybabies and incompetents…I’m so fucking glad I’m outta here in the spring!”

  The words, “Oh yeah, well I quit!” were about to come out of my mouth with force when I heard Zack talking and then say Camie’s name from the other side of the curtain.

  And just like with my pillow, the hits just keep on comin’…

  “…sorry, Camie, I like you and I think you’re a really cool chick and all but even if Sasha and I hadn’t just gotten back together, I still wouldn’t go with you to the dance.”

  “Oh, um, okay, that’s cool, but can I ask why? I mean, I understand you’re taking her and everything but why wouldn’t you go with me even if you weren’t?” Camie asked and it didn’t sound like she was upset or mad at him or anything, just curious as to why he threw that last little bit of information in. And that’s when I started to pray that Zack knew our confused understanding about not saying anything about me and Camie to anyone applies to Camie as well…

  “Seriously? You need to ask? You know better than anyone that Tristan would fuckin’ kick my ass all the way to China and back if I took you to the dance!”

  “Oh, no he wouldn’t…he doesn’t really hate you anymore and besides, he didn’t even wanna go when we were together!” She said and kind of laughed off Zack’s answer.

  “Yeah, well, he’ll still kick anyone’s ass who takes you.” Oh shit, stop talking now please…

  “Where on earth would you get a ridiculous idea like that?”

  “From him! He even told me to spread the word! So, sorry, but you’re not gonna find a single guy at this school willing to put their neck on the line just to take you to a dance…”

  “Grrragghh! That son of a bitch!” Camie shrieked and when I turned around to make myself scarce, I ran into Pete who was just looking at me and shaking his head.

  “Move! I gotta hide!” I blurted out but just as we were doing that ridiculous step to the same side dance, I got caught.

  “YOU!” Camie yelled at me.

  So hiding’s out. My only other options were to make a run for it or simply face what I’ll eventually have to deal with anyway. And seeing as how I’ve been a little too cowardly for my ego lately, I went with the second more manly, but less appealing option and winced as I turned back around to see her advancing on me. I braced myself but when she started, I couldn’t help but to engage back so we ended up arguing right there, and I’m still not even sure if either of us heard all of what the other was saying…

  “Where the hell do you get off threatening people if they take me to the dance?!”

  “Zack! I threatened Zack, not people!”

  “I mean, it was bad enough when we were together and you wouldn’t go with me, but this—”

  “Oh, don’t go there, Camie, we buried that already…”

  “This is—is—well, it’s sabotage!”

  “Sabotage?! We’re talking about a stupid dance not Pearl Harbor! Get a grip, Camie!”

  “You have NO right to keep me from going to this dance, Tristan!”

  “I have every right to not like the idea of you with another guy though!”

  “No you don’t! You gave up all your rights to me! I swear you’re just doing this to be a dick!”

  “Oh, so I’m a dick?! Okay, then tell me where in the handbook does it say I gave up the right to be a dick?”

  “And I still don’t even get why you have such a phobia about formalwear! Are you afraid people will find out you can’t dance or something?!”

  “I can dance!”

  “Yeah, I’ll believe that when I see it! And just because you’re too afraid to put a tux on doesn’t mean you’re gonna stop me from going to this dance!”

  “Oh yeah?! Well good luck with that! You heard what my good buddy, Zack, just said! And I am not afraid to put on a tux! I just don’t li—”

  “Uh-huh…and I heard what you said to Jamie…you won’t wear the suit you’re supposed to wear in the fashion show for the same reason!”

  “Wait. Are you calling me a chicken now?”

  “Yes! Yes, I am…if the beak fits, Tristan! I think all of this bullshit is because you’re afraid and I dare you to prove me wrong!”

  Ohohoho…that’s it.

  “Just remember, you asked for it,” I told her and then in a fit of anger, competitiveness, and simply because it’d been weeks and I wanted to, I grabbed her by the back of the head, pulled her to me, and kissed her once hard. Then, telling myself to breathe, I turned around and like Elvis, I left the building. But, not before I caught Pete and Zack doing the convulsive shoulder shudder like they were choking, Jamie toss her clipboard in the air, and then I saw Jeff and Kate standing in the doorway of a dressing room, both with bed-head, staring at me and Camie in shock so I pointed at them and yelled, “I’ll deal with you two later, but first I have to chauffeur a drunk rock star to get his dick pierced and then keep him away from Bigfoot! And brush your goddamned hair!”

  Fuck! Now I need a plan and it’ll have to involve a fucking tuxedo and a goddamned Batman utility belt!

  Sixteen

  Friday, Week Three

  The Empire rises ~ Jeff

  “Heads up,” I told Trist when I saw Camie marching over to us Friday right after lunch looking particularly disgruntled.

  “Hu—oh,” he said as he turned around and saw her. Also, and just barely, he managed to hold onto the stuff she shoved at him while he worked to maintain a straight face. “What’s all this?”

  “Oh, this? Well, separately it’s a recipe for Ian’s mom’s pineapple upside-down cake, a dry cleaning ticket for a shirt of Tommy’s, a grocery list from Jake, a key to Alex’s car with instructions on how he likes it to be washed, a detailed description of the new sunglasses that Vince wants, directions to some music store in Hillcrest where Chad’s new CD is waiting to be picked up, Todd’s dress shoes that he wants me to polish, and the goggles and obscene article of metallic blue and gold clothing masquerading as a swimsuit that Mike tried to tell me is my new regulation uniform which I’m apparently expected to wash Alex’s car in and wear to tomorrow’s meet as well as the subsequent ones, but collectively, it’s a ludicrous demonstration of what your team thinks my job duties entail! I mean, when Ian gave me the recipe on Monday I didn’t mind being asked to make
everyone a cake for after Saturday’s meet, but the rest of this is ridiculous and according to your guys, Captain, I’m not a cheerleader, I’m some kind of freaking playboy-bunny servant, which I am not, so you better make that clear to them before I take that car key and those shoes and do it myself!” Camie said heatedly while both Tristan and I tried to not completely crack up at the hazing the guys managed to pull off over the course of this past week.

  Tristan knew it was gonna happen with or without his permission though, so instead of putting his foot down like a tyrant, which he actually could’ve done—they would’ve listened; they wouldn’t have liked it, but they would’ve listened—he just asked them to keep it lighthearted and clean. And from the sound of it, they all did a pretty damned good job too. Even Mike’s contribution which was supposed to have been made at lunch today, though “obscene” as Camie called it, was obviously a joke and probably what made her realize everything else was as well. She didn’t know until then though. The guys came up with a plan in that they would approach her separately throughout the week when Camie wasn’t around someone who would tip her off and that they would be as sincere as possible when they asked her to do them a “huge favor,” that way when Mike went over the top it would be glaringly obvious that she’d been played.

  “Yeah, Trist, you really should talk to them…I mean Camie can’t do half of that stuff anyway…seeing as how she can’t drive because she still doesn’t have a driver’s license.” I can’t tease Tristan about being celibate anymore but no one ever said I can’t tease her about shit.

  Her reaction was as expected. She puffed up and started hitting me while Tristan and I laughed at her. By the time she was done being miffed at my jab, she was laughing too, and as she turned to go to class, Tristan caught her by the arm, tossed her the little swimming pin that goes on her letterman’s jacket and said, “Welcome to the team, Camie.”