Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series) (39 page)

When I jerked my hand from his, he lifted his mouth from where it’d been lavishing attention on my left breast and slowly raised his head to meet my eyes.

“Stop.”

“Oh God, Camie,
why?
What
is it
now?
” He asked with unadulterated frustration ringing in his voice.

“I can’t do this, Tristan, it doesn’t feel right.” I’m still pretty much a basket case so what we’ve been doing feels great physically, but emotionally? Not so much.

“It feels pretty fuckin’ right to me so I do
not
understand how you can say that, Camie…really, I don’t! You have to
know
that we work! I mean why can’t you just fucking get over whatever it is that’s keeping you from me?” He snarled a mite bitterly.

“Don’t. Don’t start that.”

“I can’t help it! You’re fucking killing me with this, Camie,” he told me and rolled onto his back in irritated resignation.

I’m rapidly becoming upset again. I get that he’s frustrated because I’m so all over the board and won’t make a decision either way—I mean
I’m
frustrated by me, but Jesus…putting pressure on me isn’t gonna help his cause here.

Great. Now I’ve got “Under Pressure” by Queen and David Bowie stuck in my head…

“Well I’m sorry, Tristan, but Jesus, why don’t you try understanding what it feels like to have been lied to, emotionally battered, and then physically pressured and tell me if you’d trust the person who’s doing all that to you!” I said heatedly. I didn’t yell, but I’m definitely emotional.

It has to be at least three in the morning and I’m freaking exhausted in addition to everything else that’s been going on. Oh, and yeah, I’m crying again.

“
Fuck!
” He growled, leaving the bed and me to pull his pants back on, and then he paced the floor.

He left his jeans partially unzipped and unbuttoned, revealing his marvelously chiseled abs and his hips in their entirety, which is one of
the
sexiest things I think I’ve ever seen in my life.

Surprisingly, I was able to locate our shirt. Yeah, I’m just gonna refer to it as ours because it’s easier… I shrugged back into it and we argued, again, for a while longer.

“Camie, tell me what you want me to do?” He asked wearily after we’d been over everything another time or two.

“Tristan, I’m not sure you can
do
or
say anything
, but I’m so tired…can we
please
just not talk about this anymore right now, I need a break…” I begged for respite by pleading fatigue through my tears.

He really wanted to continue and he’s highly upset with me, but I swear we’re beating one seriously dead horse here. Nevertheless, I’m guessing about a half-hour or forty-five minutes of silence passed where neither of us said anything. He was stretched out in a chair while I was curled up in the bed facing away from him with my eyes closed when I heard the door creak open and the following whispered conversation:

Jeff: “Hey, you asleep?”

Tristan: “She is. What do you want?”

Jeff: “I brought her bag up…”

Tristan: “Just put it down right there.”

Jeff: “Well, you didn’t kill each other, that’s a plus. I mean, at least you’re both still living…”

Tristan: “This is living?”

Jeff: “Yeah dude, it is. I take it things aren’t going well...”

Tristan: “Fuck man, how do you
do
this? I mean Jesus, you and Kate are constantly fighting…don’t you ever think to yourself, fuck it, I’m done?” (FYI, this is just one of my fears…)

Jeff: “Nope, never. Dude, I’ve loved Katy since before second grade, you know that…you were there.”

Tristan: “Yeah, I know. But is it worth it? All of this bullshit?”

Jeff: “Trist, it’s different for me…I don’t think of Katy as just a girlfriend…she’s more like my wife, you know? I mean, she’s gonna be the mother of my children some day…at least I hope she will be…so yeah...it’s worth it. Christ, you know my ringtone for her is that song ‘I’ll Do Anything for Love’, right?

Tristan: Yeah, gotta love Meatloaf.

Jeff: Right, but I chose it because I
would
do anything for her and I’ll fight for her
until the day I die
because I wanna spend my
entire life
with her.” (Okay,
wow
. I mean this guy really wears his heart on his sleeve and I’m actually tearing up at hearing the deep devotion and intensity in his voice. I also couldn’t help looking at him while he said all that, but I closed my eyes again because I don’t want them to know I’m listening.) “But you have to ask yourself what
you
want, you know?”

Tristan: “I know I don’t want it to be over…”

Jeff: “Does she?”

Tristan: “Hell if I know…she’s so goddamned confused right now and I can’t seem to get through to her. Jeff, she heard us arguing…Kate’s voicemail caught most of it from what I gather…”

Jeff: “Ooh, ouch. That had to be fuckin’
rough
.”

Tristan: “You have
no
fuckin’ idea. It was grisly, man. Shit, she heard all of it, including the Titanic thing…we were so goddamned ferocious with each other over that and I fought really dirty…just a fuckin’ nightmare. She was at the party and actually saw what I did too. You were right about everything. I hurt her, I lied to her by omission, and when she came at me tonight I hit back really fuckin’ hard and now she doesn’t trust me…it’s killing me Jeff and I just don’t know if I can do this for much longer…” (I heard Tristan get up and walk somewhere close by...I think he might be standing behind me next to the bed, but I’m
so
not moving right now to check.)

Jeff: “If you love her, you won’t give up.” (Wait,
what?!
Did I just hear him right? This is when my eyes popped open again and I saw Jeff leaning on the wall directly opposite me with his hands raised in a pacifying manner.) “Okay, okay…dude, don’t get your shorts in a bunch…so you’re not quite there yet, but Trist,
I know you
and I’m tellin’ ya, you’re not far from it…” (Oh “Dear Jeff,” what would I do without you? He just winked at me and gave me a slight nod as if to say, “Trust me, I’m right about this.” So, I closed my eyes again and just listened.) “Lemme give you some advice, dude, and seeing as how you ignored my most-excellent wisdom before and it got you here, you might wanna listen this time.”

Tristan: “Bro, I’m almost at the point of being willing to do just about anything to fix this fuckin’ mess so whatever you got, lay it on me.”

Jeff: Good, ‘cause if you want this to work—no, if you want
her
, you’ll get down on your hands and knees and fight for her like a real man. You’re gonna have to find a way to prove to her that you mean business or she’ll never take you seriously and you’ll lose her.”

Tristan: “And what if I can’t? What if it’s too late and she can’t get past all this?”

Jeff: “Well my friend, in that case you’ll be left with just
remembering
what Phil said. But I have
faith
in you, Trist, you’ll think of something…” (Um, who’s Phil?)

Tristan: “Thanks man, now get out.” (He’s getting in bed now…)

Jeff left and Tristan quietly lay down, molding himself to me, and with barely a feather’s touch, he kissed my shoulder. I fell asleep for real this time with his arms wrapped around me while thinking about what the two of them said to each other and asking myself the same thing Tristan asked Jeff… What if it’s too late and I can’t get past all this?

I’ve no idea how long I was out and I’ve no clue what time it was, but I was roused from a deep slumber by the sensation of Tristan slowly and gently running his hands over me. Now, let me explain a couple of things here… I’m still
more
than halfway asleep and I’m not planning on waking up either. Also, what he’s doing isn’t so much sexual as it feels scholastic. I know, odd way to put it, but it almost seems like he’s learning through touch. It kind of reminds me of a blind person reading Braille or something.

“What are you doing?” I mumbled. Like I said, I’m totally out of it and I’m not going to actually wake up, but I’m curious to know what he’s up to.

“Memorizing…just in case. Do you mind?” He whispered back.

See? I told you—there’s no intent to take advantage of me while I’m zonked out.

“Uh-uh, just no new landmarks,” I answered sleepily. I mean really, it’s not as if he hasn’t already been over
almost
every inch of me before. And the other thing is, he’s not kissing me…it’s just his hands, so I feel safe in not being tempted to go somewhere I’m nowhere near ready for.

“I promise, no new landmarks,” he said quietly. Then he gently drew our shirt off me and went back to his reverent studies in a way that almost felt like devout worship.

I went back to sleep.

21.

There Was Voting?

When I woke up again the sun was streaming in through the window and I could feel Tristan’s steady sleeping breath on the back of my neck. Sometime during the wee morning hours we must’ve swapped sides, though, because I’m not facing the door anymore. We’re in a super-glued spoon position that feels particularly protective and actually, if I’m picturing what we must look like correctly, his half-naked body is acting like a shield to mine. It makes me wonder if we had any other guests while I was sleeping. Or maybe he’d just been concerned that we would and he didn’t want anyone seeing me without a shirt, for which I’m most grateful.

His arm was wrapped almost loosely around my waist but the second I moved to slip out of bed; it tightened, holding me to him. So apparently he isn’t as asleep as I thought, either that or it’s a reflex.

“Don’t go,” he whispered in quiet desperation.

Nope. Not a reflex.

“I have to,” I told him softly, knowing full well that I’ll never be able to get my head on straight and figure things out being around him. A point he proved when he started to sweetly kiss my shoulders and the back of my neck. “Tristan, you need to let me go. I need some time to work things out in my head and I’ll never be able to do that if I’m around you,” I said, feeling the truth of my words as I fought back the intense desire to roll over into him, thereby allowing him to sweep me away into insanity once more.

“How much time?” He asked in between soft, yet maddening kisses.

“Honestly, I just don’t know. I haven’t been myself all week and I feel so lost right now…it could be a long time, Tristan,” I told him and held my breath, expecting him to give me an ultimatum that I’ll never be able to meet.

All I can think about is what Kate told me about the possibility that he won’t wait, and what he told Jeff about not knowing if it was worth it and not being able to wait. But, I refuse to make a decision under duress, so if he can’t wait for me then that’s that. And while thinking about time and waiting, I was once again reminded of that damned Limp Bizkit song. Jeez, will I ever be done living out those freaking lyrics?

It took him a minute or so and several more kisses that are rapidly causing my hormones to become frantic before, albeit reluctantly and with a sigh, he loosened his hold on me and said, “Alright, but when you find you, come back to me.”

“Did you just quote David Cook?” I asked with amusement and some relief while I started to sit up to look at him.

If he did, I’m taking it to mean that he’ll wait for an answer regardless of how long it takes me to give him one, which makes getting to one so much easier for me. Don’t ask me why, it just does. It also makes me happy.

He chuckled a little. “Yeah, if the song fits, use—” Tristan’s words suddenly broke off, being immediately replaced by a hiss as he sucked his breath in sharply.

I turned completely to look at him and saw he had his eyes closed tightly and an almost pained look on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh Jesus, Camie, you gotta put the shirt on,” he gasped and I swear he started holding his breath.

Yeah, I forgot about the being topless thing. How you might ask? Well, apparently I lost my exhibitionist inhibitions at some point last night. I’m guessing that had a lot to do with him for one, but also the alcohol. I really had quite a bit to drink last night but was never drunk enough to lose complete control...just a little control.

“Well where is it? Tristan! I’m like repellent for shirts! Find it!” I’m almost frantic.

Seriously, he’s doing a really good job of controlling himself
right now
, but I can tell from how his hands are flexing in fists as he grips the blankets that he’s not gonna make it much longer and then…well, let’s just say I’ll most likely end up losing more than my reluctance to be half-naked in front of him and I’m really not prepared for that.

“Camie, I can’t. If I open my eyes to look for it, I promise you won’t need the shirt anymore and you sure as hell won’t be leaving this room any time soon,” he said through almost clenched teeth before he rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillows as an added precaution.

I was just standing there, picturing the long list of don’ts the animals at the zoo have on their cages, afraid to hunt around in the blankets for the shirt because I didn’t want to pester, harass, harangue, tease, or provoke him when all of sudden, I remembered that Jeff had brought my bag up.

Tristan must’ve remembered it at the same time because he waved an arm in my bag’s general direction and said into the pillow, “Forget the shirt, your stuff’s over there somewhere.”

I dug into my bag with the proper amount of haste a situation like this calls for, and grabbing the first piece of upper body apparel I laid my hands on, I yanked the hoodie on, zipped it up as far it’d go and then said, “Okay, the coast is clear…you can stop suffocating yourself now.”

I heard a muffled groan come from him but he didn’t move so I reiterated, thinking he hadn’t heard me. “Tristan, I’ve got a shirt on…it’s safe now, you can look.”

He kind of laughed in a way that sounded distinctly self-deprecating and then said, “Actually Camie, it’s not. I did a really phenomenal job at memorizing and it won’t make a difference if you have clothes on anymore… As much as I’d love to see you right now or even better, kiss you goodbye, if you wanna make it outta here, you just better go now because if you come anywhere near me right now, I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”