Shark Out of Water (Grab Your Pole, #3) (46 page)

12:28…

And you know, it’s been a really long time since I’ve had this particular kind of feeling…this, I dunno, sense of unease maybe? Or…fuck…how can I put it? I guess it’s like when you’re about to do something and that little voice inside your head (or gut) says, “Uh-uh-uh…you’re headin’ for a world of hurt if you do that, dumbass,” and you don’t listen to it, you just do whatever it was that you were gonna do and then you inevitably end up dealing with the fallout of what you probably shouldn’t have done in the first place.

Yeah, that’s all I got, sorry.

Anyway, it has to have been at least three months since I’ve felt like this. Or more. Or maybe it’s less…goddamnit. Okay, let’s see…if I had to make a guess, I’d say the last real time was probably in regard to Melissa. Right about when we slept together for the first time, again, against my better judgment, and then it just got progressively worse until Sunday when I was goin’ nuts obsessing about her runnin’ off and nailing her joystick boyfri—

!

Oh no she fucking ISN’T!

The mental assassin ~ Tristan

12:33. In the goddamned morning no less.

I punched my sleeping pillow—
not
my cuddle pillow—to plump it up again and then I flopped back down on it face first, whining.

I want my baby. My chest hurts, I can’t sleep, and I want my baby. My pillow and sheets and pretty much everything else in my room that I could safely douse with that concoction of essential oils that she wears smells like her, but, I still can’t sleep. And it’s all because of that fucking dance tomorrow night. Or tonight. Whatever. She’s goin’ to the dance with that guy. What’s his name. Scott.
Scott Bose.

It’s making me crazy. I don’t want her goin’ with anyone; I mean I’m sure I’d even have an issue if she were going with Jeff for Christ’s sake, but
that
guy? Fuck, he just gives me bad vibes. And I don’t know why that is exactly, but deep down, I just really think he’s a snake. I mean the lowest of the low species of snake. Like Satan. Not Satan as in the way Jeff likes to joke about Jillian by calling her every name for the devil he can think of, but
the
Lucifer. The snake who gave Eve the fucking apple in the first place and brought evil into the gard—Oh my fucking God.
No.
No, that’s not…
oh fuck
.

My reason for having those bad vibes had been there all along but it was like a sniper lying in wait. A mental assassin. You know, when you
know
you know something but it just hasn’t hit you yet?

When it clicked I flew out of bed. In constant forward motion, I threw on the first shirt and pair of pants my hands found, but I didn’t even stop to put shoes on. Hopping into my jeans and almost falling on my face as I did, I just grabbed my keys, and out of habit, I gave a nod to the troll for leaving them on the hook as I took off. If I’m not mistaken, I passed my mom in the hallway as I was leaving, but I honestly wasn’t paying attention. I was on a mission. Desperate to get to Camie and tell her something she’d asked me about the day we first signed our contract. Something I never got around to telling her and something I’m praying that telling her about now will convince her to not go to the dance with Evil Scott.

This time I did break the speed limit and when I went to take the steps of the porch in one stretch, I realized my shortsightedness in not wearing shoes was probably a good thing. My frenzy slowed but only because I recognized the need for stealth. Essentially I’m breaking and entering…just without the breaking. I didn’t hesitate in using my key and I must’ve had that in mind from jump because it was already singled out in my hand, ready. So, making like Jillian, I slipped into the Ramsey’s house like a wraith.

It was weird. The house was
so
quiet. Like eerily quiet and all of a sudden, my hearing was hypersensitive. I’m guessing that’s because I was completely and totally paranoid about getting caught sneaking into a man’s house, or more specifically, his teenage daughter’s bedroom. Mind you, a man who keeps a loaded gun in a nifty little nightstand safe next to his bed. With that in mind, I tiptoed through the house and up the stairs. I think. I mean I’m like almost six-foot five and weigh somewhere in the realm of two hundred thirty-ish pounds now so I don’t know how effectively someone my size can tiptoe, but whatever…the point is, I was trying to be as quiet as inhumanly possible. But I was also trying to figure out what I was gonna do once I gained entrance to Camie’s bedroom.

Seriously, she could totally freak and then I’m fucked well and good, so how do I approach this? Do I cover her mouth so she can’t scream? They do it in the movies all the time, but, I dunno, that almost always scares the shit out of people and my intent is the exact opposite of frightening Camie. OH! I know what I can do…I’ll send her a text telling her I’m in her room and to not freak out! She won’t scream at a text…grumble at being woken up, probably, but she won’t have a heart attack and besides, if anyone happens to hear her phone go off in middle of the night, who cares, right?

Man, I
love
technology sometimes!

Camie’s parents’ bedroom was added on to the house by the previous owners who included a separate sitting room in their modification so you have to pass through that before you ever reach the bedroom proper, and even though her parents’ room is way at the other end of the hall with not one but two doors providing a sound barrier between them and the rest of the house, I still couldn’t keep myself from continually looking over my shoulder and wincing with each beat of my heart in fear that they could hear it as I approached Camie’s door and went to open it. I put my hand on the knob and covered that hand to muffle any sound, and then I turned it ever so slowly. I swear it took me over thirty seconds to feel the rotation of the handle stop. I crept into my baby’s room, closed the door again, going through the same painstakingly slow process, but adding a few seconds by taking the precaution of locking it, and then I reached into my pocket for my phone and—
Fuck!

I’d love technology even more if I wouldn’t have left my goddamned phone at home!

I wanted to hit my head on the door. Repeatedly. And as I was just beginning to mime that self-flagellating action, I caught a glimpse of gold out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head and was just bending over to get a better look in the waste basket, when, with my heart already in my throat, I felt it stop beating entirely.

“What are you doing here?” She asked in a lifeless whisper, barely loud enough for me to hear but loud enough to give me a heart attack just the same. Honestly, I was so surprised I couldn’t have screamed even if I’d wanted to. I did straighten and spin around though, hitting my head on the corner of that shelf on the wall by her door; the shelf that her unopened birthday present used to sit on but no longer does.

“Ow! Fuck!”
I whispered back, my hand immediately going to my head, “You scared the shit outta me!”

“Um. It’s my room, Tristan…and it’s the uh, middle of the night,
sooo
shouldn’t
I
be the one who’s freaked out?”

“Yeah, okay, good point…” I answered, still rubbing my head.

“You didn’t answer me…what are you doing here? Or, is that something
else
you’re gonna keep from me for my own good?”

Aw shit.
This is
not
how I was hoping to start.

Hmm. On the other hand, it’s a good jumping off point… “No, I’m here because I wanna tell you something for your own good instead.”

In the light coming in through her window I saw her eyes melt, not with tears but with gratitude and relief. I wanted to prep her for the letdown but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. We’d only wind up reenacting what we’ve rehearsed more than enough today, or, yesterday…whatever. I need her to listen to me and hear this so I climbed onto the foot of her bed, facing her, and wrapping my arms around my legs, I just started.

“I’m gonna tell you a story, Camie, a true one, and I don’t think you’re gonna like hearing it, but you need to, so please, just try to listen without freaking out on me until I’m done, okay?”

She searched my face for a second and although I saw her shift in her bed, like she was contemplating moving closer to me, she stayed put and just nodded.

“Back in late August a few weeks or so after I’d seen you for the last time at the beach and was already head over heels without knowing shit about you, after a pre-season scrimmage game against Valhalla and against my will, I was dragged to a party by Jeff and some of the guys…in my own goddamned bus…Pete stole my keys at the game, gave ‘em to Conner and then the rest of ‘em ganged up on me in the parking lot and threw me in…the fuckers. It was a huge party and a bunch of people from Valhalla showed up too, but I didn’t wanna be there. Jeff had been riding my ass hard about my sudden disinterest in partying, or more specifically, girls. He’d been making comments, teasing me, harassing me, all kinds of shit daily since the first time I saw you and I was honestly starting to agree with him, but as you know, I still couldn’t get you out of my head.

“Anyway, like I said, I didn’t wanna be there and I wasn’t in the mood to fake it, so I grabbed an unopened twelve-pack of beer and hid out by myself on the side of the house thinking I’d drink alone for a while and maybe later get some weed from Pete or Wayne and then go pass out in the bus…only, I wasn’t by myself for very long. I was actually kinda pissed when she showed up and I almost left to go back inside to get high, but she looked about as irritated as I was when she saw me. So we stood there, drinking and without saying a word for about five minutes when she finally sighed and asked why I was out there by myself. I told her the truth. I was trying to not think about a girl. She kind of laughed and continued drinking her beer. Another couple minutes went by and then I asked her what she’d asked me. Her answer was basically the same as mine…she was trying to not think about a guy. We stood there for a second, considering each other and our joint reasons for being out there, and then I simply asked if she wanted to try to not think about them together. She looked at her empty cup, then me, shrugged her shoulders and said sure.”

“This is the Samantha story, isn’t it?” Camie asked, sounding interested but closer to being frustrated.

“Yeah.”

Only I didn’t even know her name until we were
well
on our way…it was like an afterthought. Her clothes were already off and I had my face buried between her thighs before I ever asked her name. It was ridiculous. She told me and I replied with something like, “Nice to meet you, Samantha, are you drunk?” She said no, then I asked, “Are you a virgin?” And when she gave me the correct answer on that, I asked one final question, “Just tonight, alright?” She agreed with the stipulation that I didn’t get rough with her, which gave me pause, but, I didn’t question her about it, and then we went the last step in not thinking about a guy and a girl together.

It totally didn’t work by the way. For either of us…

“Why? Why are you telling me this now? I don’t see where th—”

“It’s relevant, Camie, please, just…just let me finish, alright?”

She sort of rolled her eyes but nodded and waved her hand in that “so continue then” way. And not that I particularly
wanted
to continue telling the girl I’m in love with how I nailed some random chick and then relay the very personal conversation we had afterwards, but, continue I did.

I didn’t get graphic or descriptive, but I did tell Camie the whole conversation that took place after Samantha and I had sex, when she started to get…weird. We were in my bus and I was lying on my back with my hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling and thinking about the girl I didn’t know, and
not
enjoying the afterglow of what was probably more than an hour and a half of some pretty decent sex when I started to sense some massive tension coming from the person who I
thought
was just being quiet while lying all cozied up along side of me. I looked at her and all I saw was humiliation, shame and embarrassment in her face. I asked her what was wrong and she
apologized
. Seriously. In a tiny voice filled with remorse she apologized to me and I remember getting a little freaked out because I started to think that maybe she’d lied to me about being a virgin. It’s possible, you know, I knew she was on the inexperienced side and hadn’t done it a whole lot, because she was…well, she was sorta tight, but I let it go and didn’t let it get to me. Not until she fucking apologized that is.

I closed my eyes and said, “Please tell me you weren’t a virgin…” She reconfirmed that she wasn’t so my next question was, “Then why are you apologizing?” Now get this, she said she was sorry for putting me through that with her. Are you understanding this? Because I’ll be honest, I didn’t when she first said it. I had to ask, “Sorry for putting me through what, exactly?” And I was floored when she mumbled, “That…sex…for me being so awful,” right before she started crying. I didn’t know what to say. I mean inexperienced, yes, but awful she was definitely not and certainly nowhere close to needing to
apologize
. I mean there was even one point when I had to take a moment and regroup so I wouldn’t shame myself!

That was what I was thinking when it finally dawned on me that someone had
convinced
Samantha that she was so bad in bed that she felt she had to apologize. And I thought it was the guy she was “trying to not think about” but it turns out, it wasn’t. I asked her and she told me the guy she was trying to not think about was her boyfriend that she’d recently broken up with, and when I offered to kick his ignorant ass for her, she told me the story of how and why she broke up with him.

It was tragic. Honestly tragic.

Samantha and her recent ex-boyfriend, Josh, had been together for a year on the nose when she broke up with him because he wanted to have sex. He wasn’t pushing her in a way like Keith was pressuring Melissa, but he would bring it up every now and then and when she’d say no, he’d tell her he understood, tell her he loved her, and then leave it alone. So knowing they’re broken up, you’re thinking he couldn’t possibly be
that
great of a guy, right? Well, actually, he was. But on their one year anniversary, Josh planned this whole big romantic thing for her as a surprise and, of course, the possibility of having sex with his girlfriend on that special night was in the forefront of his mind. However, he had a little too much to drink and when they were making out and she said no, again, he got pissed and they got in a fight. He didn’t understand why she kept shutting him down because he knew she’d done it before and he was trying to be patient, but, after a year of only rounding first base, he was getting frustrated because she also wouldn’t let him go down on her or vice versa and he just didn’t understand what the big deal was. So, rather than telling him, she broke up with him.