Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series) (36 page)

Pete:
And
here come the fireworks, right on schedule...

Mike: Oh fuck, this is gonna hurt…

Jeff:
Shit!
Katy, get outta here!
Now!

Kate: Wait! What’s going o—Oh my God!

Keith: Zack, you fuckin’ idiot!

Melissa: Camie! Watch out!

Tristan:
Oh that’s it!! You’re a FUCKIN’ DEAD MAN…

Before I even had a chance to process the fact that Tristan had materialized some unknown distance behind me and seen what Mike had said he would, Pete grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the way, then he threw me into Melissa who dragged me back even further.

All I can say that I saw with any clarity was Tristan in a blind rage take one swing at Zack, which I’m pretty sure would be considered a TKO in boxing. He would’ve gone down but Tristan held onto to him, apparently not satisfied with it only taking once. At the same time Tristan’s fist made first contact with Zack’s face, what looked like a massive brawl erupted. Really, it reminds me of a scene out of
West Side Story
, except instead of it being the Jets vs. the Sharks, it was Us vs. Them. Them being Zack’s buddies and you should know who Us is by now, although I might’ve not mentioned
everyone
who would be considered an “Us.” There was
a lot
of yelling, swearing, shoving, and a good many punches being thrown. Now absurd as this is, I’m thinking God must be playing D.J. again because the moment the fight started, none other than Pink’s “So What” began playing…The Big Man certainly has a sense of humor, doesn’t He?

Almost immediately after the fight broke out, Jeff wisely and expertly disengaged Tristan. He had the front of Zack’s costume in one hand and was about to put the fist of the other one in Zack’s face again, but with amazing strength and skill, Jeff held Tristan back from doing any more damage. After an all too short moment and still being more than fuming—I think it’s safe to say he’s still raging—Tristan literally threw Jeff off him but instead of rushing back into the fray, he came straight at me.

I had no time to react—I honestly don’t know what I could’ve done anyway…run maybe?—before he seized me from Melissa who I’m now realizing had actually been holding
me
back from trying to get to Tristan while he was fighting. Then without a single word, he threw me over his shoulder. He must’ve looked terrifying and I must’ve looked petrified because just as Tristan turned to cart me away, I saw and heard Keith swear and make like he was going to try to stop Tristan from abducting me. I felt like saying, “Yeah, good luck, Keith. Did you not see what he just did to Zack? Since I’m a goner, you may as well save yourself. I appreciate the thought though, buddy.”

“
No!!
Let ‘em go…this needs to happen,” Pete said, running up and catching Keith by the arm.

“Fuck, that was an explosion alright…” Mike commented.

“No shit. I’ve never seen him so pissed…you don’t think he’ll hurt her, do you?” Keith asked, wiping blood off his lip.

“Hopefully not more than he already has anyway…” Jeff responded grimly, having come up next to them.

“Jesus, he better not…” Pete said with what sounded to me like some concern. And to this day, I’m still not sure who the concern was for; me or Tristan.

Although the guys were following Tristan and me, they were keeping a safe distance and their voices were fading. However, I heard Mike shout at Tristan before he reached the sliding glass doors of the house with me…

“Don’t break anything and STAY OUT of my parents’ room!!”

Oh and just so you know, I have a great view of Tristan’s really nice butt from up here, although what he needs is a good, swift kick in it instead of having it admired. And yeah, I’m thinking that none of the guys’ last remarks bode all that well for me or for what’s about to take place, but as Tristan crossed the threshold of the house, God’s next track was in stark contrast to that opinion. “I Gotta Feeling” by The Black Eyed Peas could be heard through all the speakers both outside and in, making me wonder if God is just as confused as I am…

19.

I’ll Need Some Gum

Now mind you that because I’m still folded over Tristan’s shoulder and for the most part staring at his ass, I can’t see people’s faces—Shoes, I see a lot of shoes. Therefore, it’s impossible for me to know how everyone in the house is reacting to the epic biblical picture we must be presenting. I say biblical because the way the bodies are filling in the empty space behind us as he carries me through the house; it makes me think it must look an awful lot like Moses parting the Red Sea. I’m not even bothering to struggle either because A) I know it won’t do any good. And B) Pete is right; this needs to happen. I don’t know how much will actually be solved, though, because I’m so up in the air—no pun intended—and I really have no idea what’s going through his mind either, but we still need to get some things said.

I’d also like to call attention to the fact that I’m extremely impressed by Tristan’s endurance and this amazing feat of strength he’s displaying…I mean I only weigh about 105 pounds, maybe closer to 108 after the movies last night. Seriously, we ate a ton of food… But just picture it if you will, he’s now taking the
Gone With the Wind
stairs two at a time! I mean come on! Impressive, right?

Once reaching the hall upstairs, Tristan didn’t turn the same way as when he’d taken me to Mike’s parents’ room the night of the infamous punch fiasco, but instead he took a path to the right, through a game room with a pool table and down another hallway. I’m assuming that’s what it is but there are quite a lot of people up here so I could be wrong. He didn’t even stop to knock or anything when he reached the closed door of his choice, but rather, he aggressively grabbed the handle and threw the door open, causing it to ricochet off the wall and the startled couple in the room to shout their protests.

“Get out.”
From the dangerous menace of his tone, I’m guessing Tristan’s still very angry.

“
What the fuck?!
Tristan, get the hell outta here!” The guy yelled.

The voice is sort of familiar but I don’t know who it is and regardless, I felt embarrassed for all of us…

Again, I remind you that I can’t see what’s going on because I’m still hanging upside down and yeah, the blood has totally rushed to my head, but from what Tristan then said, I’m deducing that he’s
completely
interrupted a sexual interlude. I mean at this stage of the game, awkward doesn’t even begin to cover it.

“You have ten seconds to cum and get the fuck outta here or you’re gonna have an audience.” And let me impress upon you; that was no mere warning in Tristan’s dark voice.

The couple was
not
happy with him, but they did vacate the room rather quickly after recognizing what he’d said wasn’t just a threat. I’m assuming they threw on
some
clothes, but I don’t think they took the time to actually get dressed. So, from my vantage point when I saw two pairs of bare legs and feet exit the room, I congratulated myself on being right, and then when Tristan slammed the door shut behind them so hard that the window actually rattled in its frame, I wished I could’ve gone with them.

Yeah, at this point I’m pretty much regretting not having been rescued by Keith or struggling to save myself and I’m also praying that Jeff and Pete wouldn’t allow me to be alone with him if I might be in actual physical danger.

I’m beginning to learn that God does answer all prayers, but there’s a caveat; you have to be
really
specific with what you pray for…

With my blood marching in time through my head to the sound of its own thumping cadence and “Paralyzer” by Finger Eleven vaguely recognizable to my ears, Tristan slowly lowered me to my feet, so close to him that I swear you wouldn’t have been able to slide a single sheet of paper between us. One look at his face and I knew he was still irrationally emotional but some time in between beating the shit out of Zack and slamming the door, the pendulum had swung in the complete and total opposite direction from the all consuming fury it’d been at.

And with that one look, I was right there with him. And let me tell you something, this was no tender meeting of lips by any means. It was wildly passionate and, I’ll be very honest here, rather violent. He broke the kiss for only the split second it took him to hastily pull his shirt over his head when my fervent attempts to remove it myself failed. No longer impeded, his mouth crashed down on mine again and through this one kiss, we proceeded to vent every single emotion we’d ever had for one another since the day we met.

I have to admit as inappropriate as it might sound for this particular moment, I have a scene from
Star Wars
running through my head—the one where the Red Leader is telling Luke to “stay on target” when he’s about to blow up the Death Star. It’s there because I’m still
really
pissed at him, but I can’t seem to muster the will to keep us from where this is obviously going—and fast, and you and I both know damned well Tristan’s not going to stop. Seriously, I’m so caught up in sharing Tristan’s burning desire and zealous urgency, the sensation of my costume being torn from my body barely registered.

Now would be an excellent time to describe for you what my costume actually looks like. It’s two pieces; the skirt is long and reaches my ankles, but it’s made of see-through, filmy strips of fabric rather than being all one piece, which means that when I walk, it separates showing both of my legs entirely. The waist rides very low on my hips and it has little gold coins on it that make a tinkling sound when I move. The top piece is similar to what a strapless bra looks like except it has a wider band that sits just above my ribcage, and again, little gold coins adorn it as well. Oh and since I’d bought it the same day as the thong and was trying to plan in advance, my costume is of course, black.

Having entirely divested me of my skirt, Tristan had a hold of the back of my thigh, thereby keeping my leg around his waist, and he was about to lift my other leg around him with the intent of carrying me, willingly, to the bed. My delirium was so great; a hurricane ripping through the room wouldn’t have snapped rational thought back to me. The slight feeling of my phone slipping to the ground as my top began falling away did, though. I unwrapped the leg I had around his waist and managed to grab hold of my top with one hand, clutching it to me to keep from having my breasts
completely
exposed, while with my other hand, I shoved him away.

Honestly, adrenaline is some freaking powerful stuff because Tristan is no lightweight by any stretch and he didn’t exactly let go of me willingly…and, he was most
certainly
unhappy about having to do so.

“Goddamn it Camie!”
He bellowed at me.

“
What the hell, Tristan
?! Where do
you
get off yelling at
me
?!” I shouted back.

“I think I’m pretty fuckin’ justified after you laid yourself out like a goddamned
buffet
for Pete and then let Zack paw at you all night!” He accused with disgust.

“OH! You think
that
was bad? You’re such a
fuckin’
hypocrite
Tristan! So lemme get this straight, you have the right to throw a goddamned
violent
temper tantrum when anyone barely even
touches
me, but I’m supposed to just accept it when you decide to full-on
make
out
with someone else?! Is that it?!” I yelled while gesturing emphatically with my one, free hand.

“Ah
FUCK!
Who
the fuck told you about
that?!
” He asked angrily.

I almost got the impression that he’s mad at me for knowing, but I’m not sure. And I guess Jeff wasn’t kidding about Tristan being blind. I mean how could he not know that I knew about that after this week?

“Does it honestly fucking matter?
You
should’ve been the one to tell me, you ignorant son of a bitch!” I hollered and shoved him in the chest again.

“Oh, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” he ground out between clenched teeth, his eyes flashing violence once more.

After the argument they had, you know he’s thinking that Jeff told me, right? But no way am I letting Jeff take the blame for being the voice of reason that was
completely
ignored.

“Okay, you wanna know who to blame for that, Tristan? Well, just look in a fucking mirror!” I shouted.

“What the fuck does that mean?” He asked, his expression and body language declaring his earnest confusion.

Unbelievable. He honestly doesn’t know.

“I was
there
, Tristan. I
saw
the whole goddamned thing…” I informed him, the anguish of my memory practically choking me.

He was stunned. There’s absolutely no other way to describe his comprehension.

“No. You did
not
see that,” he said, barely shaking his head back and forth, as if the movement would somehow make his words come true.

Jeff obviously wasn’t kidding about Tristan being in denial either…

“Yeah, I did. And you know what? I really have to thank you for making one of my favorite treats nauseating to me now,” I shot at him, the added information about the role the licorice had played proving I really had been there.

Without looking at me, Tristan resignedly raked a hand through his hair and said, “Oh my God.”

He sat down on the edge of the bed and buried his head in his hands for several moments before finally, yet briefly looking up at me again. Then he closed his eyes and sighed in abject defeat. When he opened his eyes again this time, he seemed to become aware for the first time that I was holding my top to my chest. He bent down to pick up his shirt and then held it out for me. “Put it on.”

I just stared at the shirt without making a move to accept it. “You know, I think I’d really rather get my own clothes and wear them for once.”

“Uh-uh. No fucking way are you leaving this room. We’re gonna talk about this,” he told me firmly, sure in the knowledge that I’d bolt if I had the chance.

I yanked the shirt from Tristan’s hand in frustration and just when I was about to tell him to close his eyes or something he said, “Seriously Camie, you’ve gotta be fuckin’ kidding me...”