Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series) (21 page)

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?’”

“I hope you’re not expecting the rest of the lines because I’m just gonna say yes and be done with it.”

Oh my God!
He asked me out! He asked me out! He asked me out! I’m doing the Snoopy happy dance in my head and wondering if this day could possibly get any better than being asked out on my first date ever—by Tristan no less, who used quotes from my favorite television show do it. I really kinda doubt it.

Oh man! Was I ever wrong about
that
!

I didn’t even have the chance to get nervous or scared before he leaned down and started to kiss me.

OMG!! I KNOW!!

Okay, since I’m pretty well occupied and we have some time here, you know how every girl will never forget the song playing during her first kiss? You know, provided there’s music in the first place. Well, my mom’s first kiss happened while she was at a party in eighth grade. She was dancing with the kid whose house the party was at to Depeche Mode’s quintessential song “Somebody.” From what I gather, it was a very ‘80s moment. Anyway, guess what song I get. You have no idea? Alright, I’ll tell you; the second Tristan’s lips met mine, none other than “Learning to Fly” by Pink Floyd began playing. From the title of the song alone, you should be able to understand how ridiculously fitting this is for a first kiss.

Actually, I’m not sure how much time is allowed to elapse during a kiss for it still to be considered as
a
kiss before it must be constituted as making out. I think we might’ve broken whatever ground rules there are on that, though, because we didn’t stop when the song ended…or the one after that…or the one after that. I’m guessing that’s because neither of us seems to be interested in oxygen at the moment.

Although the music was just barely registering—and I wouldn’t think this until later that night when I
could
actually think—I had to wonder if God was controlling the shuffle on Tristan’s iPod. Honestly, the soundtrack to this most glorious of experiences was simply uncanny. Allow me to explain. The second song was Mazzy Star’s “Fade Into You” and it seemed like that’s exactly what was happening. As Tristan kissed me and I kissed him back, everything…our environment, sound, thought…simply everything faded away until it was just us. We were like one, living and breathing as one entity. Then with the third song, “Hanging by a Moment” by Lifehouse, well, if you take some of the lyrics that say, “...forgetting all I’m lacking, completely incomplete, I’ll take your invitation, you take all of me”—which is basically what’s happening here—and then these as well; “...and I don’t know what I’m diving into, just hanging by a moment here with you”…well, hopefully you get my point. That is to say, it just really felt like I was living in lyrics.

Coincidentally, or maybe not so coincidentally, that last song also has a section of lyrics that goes like this: “...there’s nothing else to lose, nothing else to find, there’s nothing in the world that can change my mind.” But as it would happen, I’d discover that’s not quite so true.

Anyhow, we were just getting into the fourth song in God’s playlist—Limp Bizkit’s “Build A Bridge,” which I’d unfortunately find to be just as appropriate—when we so very rudely interrupted by Tristan’s cell phone jingling “The Chicken Dance” song. Tristan let it go to voicemail at least thrice times (that means three) before he broke the mind numbingly thorough kiss.

He collapsed with his face in my neck in defeat, whimpered for a second and then grumbled, “I swear to God, I’m gonna throw both of our cell phones in the ocean.”

Now that I was becoming coherent again, I started giggling. I would’ve gladly kept kissing him, but the polka music streaming from his phone was damned funny and I couldn’t help laughing.

“Is that Jeff?”

“Yeah, how’d you know?” He asked and while blindly reaching for his phone that was polka-ing again, he began to absentmindedly nibble on my neck.

It almost seemed like he thought, “Well, since I’m here, I may as well make myself at home.” I welcomed him by lifting and tilting my chin a little so his lips could get more comfy along my jaw line.

“The Chicken Dance song? Who else could it be? Hey, put it on speaker, let me talk to him.”

It’s only fair; Tristan answered my phone when it was bugging him, now it’s my turn. And as a side note: Holy cow! You should see the size of the goose bumps he’s giving me!

“Tell him to go to hell,” Tristan murmured, handing me his phone while he continued to nuzzle my neck.

As much as I wanted to do as he asked, I was thinking it was going to be difficult because I was having a
really
tough time concentrating, but, I gave it a go. Here’s the transcript:

Me: “What’s up, he who shalt not be the blithering ninny any longer, but henceforth shalt be dubbed, the vexing hindrance.” (My “Ye Olde English” that I picked up mostly from
Monty Python and the Holy Grail
isn’t as good as it could be but I’m being distracted—and very well at that.)

Jeff: “Uhhh.
Camie?
”

Me: “Yes, good for you. You finally got something right.”

Jeff: (Pause) “I did dial Tristan, didn’t I?”

Me: (Pause while I pull my mouth away from Tristan’s and he moves a piece of hair away from my neck for better accessibility—I think.) “Uhhh, yes.” (I’m chanting “focus, focus, focus” to myself.) “You have not been deceived, My Lord Irksomeness. I have a message, are you ready?”

Jeff: “Uh, I don’t know. So far I haven’t understood a damned thing you’ve said...but, go ahead I guess.”

Me: “Thou wilt be condemned into everlasting perdition for this much grievous offense thou hast committed.” (Tristan apparently loved that, because now he’s laughing into my neck.)

Jeff:
“What?!”

Tristan: “Do they speak English in What? It means go to hell, Jeff.” (He starts kissing me again.) (Oh, and that first part was definitely a quote from
Pulp Fiction
.)

Jeff: “Oh, you’re there…Hey! Am I on speaker phone?”

Tristan: “Yes. What do you want?” (He kisses me some more.)

Jeff: “Oh, right. Hey, we’re here, come help us unload the wood.”

Tristan: “Unload it your
damned
selves.” (He goes back to inspecting my neck with his mouth. I’m thinking he might have some vampiric tendencies—which I’m totally cool with of course.)

Jeff: “What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

Tristan: “You and your girlfriend are a pain in the ass.” (He rolls away from me to make a gesture telling the phone to f-off and then pulls me to him for more kissing.)

Jeff: “Whatever. Dude, come on…we need help and I know you’re already down here ‘cause I saw the bus, so if you don’t want me to hunt you down, you’ll get your ass over here.”

Tristan: (He stops kissing me, sighs in defeat again and rolls his eyes in exasperation.) “You’re a dick.”

Tristan hung up on Mr. Chicken, tossed his phone aside and gave me a look that I think was him contemplating kissing me again, but I’m not really sure because it’s kind of dark in here now. Then he sighed. “Come on, he’ll just come over here and drag us out anyway.”

When he opened the doors of the bus and I went to climb out, I shivered with the chilly beach air. I hadn’t thought about this little issue when I agreed to stay down here with him all day. All I have to wear is what I’ve got on and I’m pretty sure I’m gonna freeze my butt off in shorts and a t-shirt even
if
the bonfire resembles Hell’s little cousin. Plus, I think I might have a bit of a sunburn and that’s just going to make it worse.

When Tristan saw me rubbing my arms he asked, “Are you cold?”

“Yeah. I’m not acclimated to the weather yet and I think I might have a sunburn.”

“Yeah, your cheeks and nose look a little pink. Lemme see if I have something you can wear.” He climbed back into his bus to search through storage compartments and then he turned back around, holding out a pair of lifeguard-red sweat pants that have a faded orange logo down one leg. “Here, these should work. We’ll have to roll ‘em up, but they’ll be better than what you have now.”

I gratefully took the sweat pants. “I don’t care, anything will be better than wearing damp shorts right now.”

As I was shimmying out of my shorts, I realized how much sand was still in my suit and I considered, for one brief moment of lunacy, going commando. I think that would just be too much for either of us to handle with dignity, though, especially since I’m still unsure about
his
underwear status. Better to be chafed by sand then have to think about knowing that he knows that I’m wearing his clothes without any underwear—again.

He turned to hand me his Letterman’s jacket and said, “I
am
gonna want this back but you can wear it tonight.”