The Other Fish in the Sea (Grab Your Pole, #2) Read online

  Good God. The change in his expression was so, so subtle, but the spark in his eyes and wicked curve of his lips when he asked that quite literally sent a shiver down my spine. The thing is, this happened once before and I thought it might be a fluke—apparently it’s not.

  “Do I have a choice?” I don’t. He’ll do it my way, but like the song I chose for him says, he won’t spare me. And the truth is, I don’t want him to. And now thanks to my body’s automatic and unbidden response, he knows it.

  “Not if you tell yourself the truth about this.”

  And there’s another shiver inducing micro-grin. Dang it…I think I’m going to have to learn how to hide that.

  “I don’t lie to myself.” I don’t, but this truth isn’t anyone else’s business, thus my need to hide the fact that he can make my skin crawl at will.

  “Good.”

  “You know, you don’t need to be so smug about this.” He did it again…just because he knows he can.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “No, you’re not.” He’s enjoying getting a reaction out of me. And since I’m in the mood to be honest, I’m kind of enjoying it too. That is aside from the fact that I now have a stupid tell and I have to figure out how to get rid of it before I get back to camp.

  “You’re right, I’m not.”

  “I should’ve lied about your ringtone.”

  “But, you didn’t… Now, speaking of bells, you ready to laugh at death?”

  “I’m dying to laugh at death.”

  “Then play the video.”

  Ha! He is a genius!

  “You can never have too much cowbell.” How can you fear the reaper when Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken have your back and an attractive, interesting and very smart boy holding your hand and giving you nifty little goose bumps?

  And I told you I knew the information would come to me. It always does.

  Oh by the way, I realize you’ve probably figured out that he and I have had quite a bit more interaction than anyone is aware of, but guess what? That, my friend, is a story best left told some other time…

  6.

  Wild Kingdom & "Lonely Pete"

  It was Friday night and the usual crew minus Jillian, Pete, Bridget, and Dylan’s friend, Jeremy, were sitting in the tent when Bridget came in and had a conversation with Julia which sparked an idea I hadn’t yet consciously considered, but I had in the very back of my mind—if that makes sense.

  “Well? What did he say?” Julia asked, setting down her own magazine and sitting up when Bridget sat down next to her.

  The people not living in this tent were wise and brought distractions of their own tonight. You know, just in case.

  “He wasn’t in the mood.” She looks very irritated and I’m not sure who “he” is.

  “Not in the mood?” Julia asked like what guy wouldn’t be in the mood.

  I’m guessing the mood to fool around or have sex, but I’m not sure. It’s hysterical too; everyone else is totally listening but using their distractions to pretend like they’re not. For instance, Brandon has his head bent over his guitar and he was looking busy tuning it, but even though he hasn’t once looked up, his fingers aren’t moving anymore and there’s no sound coming from the instrument he’s holding.

  “Yeah. ‘Not in the mood’…” Bridget said using air quotes. “So I offered him a rain-check and he turned it down flat.” Now she looks bitter.

  “Don’t tell me he gave you the let’s be friends line.”

  “No! I offered to be friends with benefits and he said he has ‘one too many friends’,” she said with more air quotes.

  For my taste, Bridget sounds a little too much like Teresa, the girl who caused all kinds of drama for me when I first started school, but at least Bridget wasn’t hitting on my boyfriend. I don’t think. She better not have been anyway.

  “That totally settles it then…he’s gay.” Nope. Not talking about my boyfriend.

  “Who’s gay and has too many friends?” My sister bluntly asked upon entering the tent, after having listened in to the majority of the conversation from outside I’m sure.

  I swear, we should put a bell around her neck.

  “Pete,” Julia and Bridget answered together.

  And that’s what has been niggling at the back of my mind for days—weeks if I’m being honest. I’m totally looking at all my friends and family and they’re all looking at me and each other in a kind of surprised shock. Well, except of course Jeff who’s laughing so hard he’s not making sound. He’s looking and pointing at Tristan who’s about to choke on the Pirate Punch he just took a mouthful of.

  Again, being the blunt little blonde she is, Jillian said, “I can see why you’d think that. Hey, has anyone seen my catalog? I can’t find it. And Camie, I think The Tree is dying over there, you should probably help him out.”

  I’m assuming she means Tristan because it looks like he might be having convulsions trying to keep the fluid in his mouth until he can gain enough control to swallow it.

  “Help who out?”

  Speak of the devil… (Mysterious music ensues.)

  He was followed by Jeremy, and the two of them looked freshly showered. Lucky. I was filling in tonight by babysitting the little kids for Jill who was MIA when everyone else was getting clean and now the water will be freezing. Hell, I’m still in my riding gear minus the helmet, chest guard, and boots. With Pete and Jeremy’s appearance however, Tristan was done for. It was a valiant effort on his part, but the Pirate Punch finally broke free of his mouth and he rolled onto his back, holding his stomach and laughing hysterically. Phineas and Ferb had to scramble out of the way or he would’ve smooshed them.

  “No one answers that until my question gets answered first! Where is my catalog?”

  “Oh, sorry. I had it…there’s a lot of really cool stuff in here, you know?” Melissa said, handing Jillian the catalog and looking at “Lonely Gay(?) Pete” with new eyes.

  “Of course I know, it’s mine. If you want one, order it from the website…it’s on the back.”

  “Yeah I know…I already requested one.”

  Great. Jillian has a fledgling spy to train. I mean I love her, but you know…Jill being someone’s mentor? What could there possibly be to worry about? With that thought in mind, I scrutinized my sister through narrowed eyes, trying to determine if I should start warning people posthaste or wait until I have just cause. In doing so however, I noticed she’s all freshly showered too. The little brat.

  “Hey, where’ve you been all night? I had to take your turn watching the little kids.”

  “Oh, you know…staring down fear, laughing in the face of death, taking a ride in Hell, and in general, testing the waters of the unknown.”

  By now Tristan and Jeff have made semi-decent recoveries…Tristan is still shaking his head and wiping the tears from his eyes and Jeff is just laughing instead of totally cracking up, but it looks like he’s trying to console Tristan. I’m not sure why he would need to be consoled, though. It’s not like Tristan’s never spit fluid from his mouth because he was laughing.

  Anyway, because he was able to make sound now, Jeff looked up at Jillian and said, “Sounds like a typical day in the life of the damned.”

  She just stared at him without emotion.

  “Yeah, and I didn’t get my shower! She tiptoes through the wilted tulips of Hades and comes back sparkly clean. I stay in heaven on earth and end up looking scorched and smelling like fire!” There’s something just not right about that damn it.

  “Don’t blame me.”

  “Well who the hell should I blame?” Don’t blame her…it’s her freaking fault!

  “Elton John.”

  WHAT?

  I looked around at the faces of those who typically have my back for help of some kind and caught Pete looking at Jill with a smirk, Jeff looking at Jill and nodding like he thought what she said made perfect sense, Melissa silently giggling at me, Kate with an expression that I read to say �
��she’s your sister,” and Tristan looking at me like he was saying “I told you she’s evil incarnate.”

  Fine, I give up. Tristan will just have to endure the smell of smoke in my hair.

  “So hey…let’s play a game!” It was MaryAnn’s attempt to change the subject and keep the tension at bay for the night. Good luck with that.

  There was universal agreement and we began the rigors of choosing a game we could all live with. Most everyone—the guys—wanted to play a drinking game, but the response to one suggestion that was thrown out made the ground shake and me giggle silently to myself. The fool…I don’t know what he was thinking.

  “I got a game…we have even guys and girls so how about spin the bottle?” Jeremy submitted for consideration.

  For an almost fifteen-year-old, he’s not very good at math. There are thirteen of us here counting Jillian, which I’m sure he is judging from how he keeps looking at her. Oh wait. Ugh. For an almost sixteen-year-old, I’m not very good at math… We do have even boys and girls. Crap. I’m so mathematically challenged.

  Anyhoo, a cacophony of vehement male denials erupted all at once…

  Derek: “NO!”

  Brandon: “Fuck that!”

  Pete: “Hell No!”

  Jeff: “Fuck no!”

  Tristan: “Over my dead fuckin’ body!”

  “Why not?” Like I said, I don’t know what the fool is thinking.

  Surprisingly, it was Brandon who answered. Well, sort of. His answer was more closely related to an interrogation.

  “Dude, have you even looked around this fuckin’ tent?”

  “Yeah!”

  “So how much goddamned kissing do you think is gonna happen?”

  “Well obviously no one would kiss a relative, that’s sick, but the majority of us aren’t related.” Oh, he needs to shut up…I can already feel the violent energy thrumming across from me. Tristan is wound tight and ready to pounce.

  “Yeah there’s that, and then there’s a few guys here that’ll rip your fuckin’ head off for just lookin’ at a few of the girls here the wrong way. Not to mention what those fuckin’ girls will do.”

  True. Aside from Bridget and Julia who look like they wouldn’t be at all opposed to playing spin the bottle with this group of guys; Jillian is showing her displeasure by being stone-faced, Kate and MaryAnn don’t look happy at the thought of anyone kissing them or having Jeff and Derek kissed by anyone besides them. Melissa looks uncomfortable as well, and then there’s me…you already know how I feel about lint removal.

  “It’s just a game…” Honestly, I can’t believe he’s stupid enough to even question this.

  “You stupid shit, look at ‘em… First they’d fuckin’ argue over which one of ‘em gets to rip your head off, then they’d throw you in the goddamned bonfire blazing outside, dance around the inferno until you’re nothin’ but fuckin’ ashes, and then piss on the flames to put ‘em out.” Brandon has obviously seen Twilight—although there was no urinating on the flames. It was a nice, creative addition though, if you ask me...

  And he doesn’t mean look at their expressions either because Jeff looks amused as per usual, Derek is shaking his head in disbelief, and aside from his eyes which are flickering dangerously, Tristan looks simply like a piece of cold, chiseled stone. No, Brandon’s calling attention to their size and their ability to rend flesh from bone with their bare hands.

  I don’t know if I’ve ever described Jeff’s build to you so I’ll try really quick. He has the typical swimmer’s build like Tristan does, but he’s not as tall; however I’m guessing he’s still over six feet. Jeff’s not quite as muscle bound as Tristan is either, but he’s still pretty freaking ripped, and he can definitely hold his own and do some serious damage when he wants to. I’ve seen him in action and the guy can throw down.

  “Come on, what’s the big deal? It would all just be in good fun! You guys know that, right?” Uh-oh. Better batten down the hatches, there’s a storm coming.

  Upon hearing the almost exact same words Pete used to plead for his life after doing those body shots off of me last month, Tristan’s eyes were flashing with rage-infused lightning. Even if you couldn’t pick up on that, no one could deny recognizing the furious thunder rolling in his voice.

  “Pete. Tell this little cock sucker how well I handle good fun.”

  “Why me?”

  “You shouldn’t have used my girlfriend’s body as a fucking shot glass.”

  Poor “Lonely Gay(?) Pete.” He’s never going to be allowed to forget that, even though technically, I wasn’t Tristan’s girlfriend at the time. Not to mention that Tristan and I weren’t even talking.

  By the way, no one’s bothering with trying to hide their staring this time. In fact, aside from Jillian, the people who don’t go to school with us now have their mouths hanging open and their eyebrows in their hairline upon hearing that piece of trivia.

  “Point taken. Okay look, dude, you’re flirting with a slow and painful death,” Pete said, straight and to the point but with a small amount of sympathy.

  Do you think Pete could really be gay?

  “Because you don’t know me, I’ll give you this one warning so pay attention, you fuck. So help me God, if you even so much as breathe in her general direction, I will decimate you so completely that your fucking dentist won’t even be able to recognize you.” He didn’t once raise his voice, making him just that much darker and malevolent, and he said it all so slowly and evenly; it gave his words such a fearsome strength that I actually felt my spine crawl.

  “Oh, and a warning for you two over there…” Tristan’s black gaze has now settled on Julia and Bridget. “I know what you’ve been saying, so watch yourselves. Now, let’s get drunk. What game are we gonna play?” He finished and directed a look at Jillian who responded by raising one of her brows and giving him a slight nod that looked like she was saying, “Not bad.”

  I have no idea what that last warning was about, but I’m so proud of him. Instead of totally flying off the handle, he gave warnings! And, instead of stalking away with me, he’s ready to play! I wonder if he’s been working on controlling his temper. If so, he’s making some progress because usually, he just uses his anger to fit his purposes…

  …OH.

  It just clicked. He gave me a warning in there, too. I think I better keep those hatches battened down. I have a feeling I’m going to be caught in a severe desert storm later tonight.

  Thinking about what the later hours probably have in store for me, I took a healthy swallow of Pirate Punch and decided to do an experiment in an attempt to soothe my savage beast. I got up and went to sit with him, giving him a kiss on the cheek as I schooched behind him so he could lie back against me with his head on my chest.

  My theory obviously works because he immediately shifted his shoulders to get comfy, closed his eyes when I started playing with his hair and murmured, “Thanks, Baby.” I instantly felt his body relax the second I started to pet him. I’m expecting the purring to start any time now.

  Most everyone was still throwing game ideas out, but across the tent Dylan, Jeremy, Julia, and Bridget were quietly grilling Pete about that fateful event last month.

  Julia: “Did you really use Camie as a shot glass?” (Several times.)

  Pete: “Yep. Scariest moment of my life.” (I’m not sure how to take that now.)

  Dylan: “Did you think he was literally gonna kill you?” (Hurt maybe, but not kill.)

  Pete: “Yeah, I’m lucky to be alive.” (Oh.)

  Jeremy: “You think her sister would go for that?” (Ha! I was right.)

  Pete: “Text her and ask.” (Jillian would turn him into a eunuch just for texting.)

  Bridget: “Did you actually enjoy it?” (I’m wondering the same thing.)

  Pete: “No, and I still have nightmares about what happened.” (That was just for effect. He doesn’t have nightmares about that. I don’t think.)

  Tristan: “So do I.” (Aw crap.)
>
  When Jeremy heard Tristan’s interjection he popped off with, “He seriously needs to lighten up…that guy has no sense of humor.”

  Jeff heard him and then chose to engage in one of his favorite pastimes, which we’ll call “Blindsiding Tristan.”

  “Aw, sure he does. Hey Trist, you have a sense of humor, don’tchya?”

  “I have a fucking fantastic sense of humor, Jeff,” Tristan replied in a humorless, deadpan tone with his eyes closed. He looks asleep, but he’s really very wide-awake. And he really does have a good sense of humor—just not when it comes to other guys touching me.

  “See? I’ll even prove it to you… So dude, would you rather have Pete gay or straight?” Jeff queried with a devious chuckle.

  Tristan didn’t even bother trying to swallow his drink this time; it just flew everywhere when he started cracking up. The expression on Pete’s face was merely confused amusement, but most everyone else was stunned that Jeff brought it up with Pete sitting right there.

  “Oh fuck, man, that wasn’t cool…one of these times you’re gonna make me actually choke to death,” Tristan said, wiping his mouth and shirt off.

  “Yeah, I know, Camie will give you mouth-to-mouth though, so just answer the question.”

  “Oh shit…I have such mixed feelings about that,” he returned, chuckling and rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hands.

  “And why is that, O Keeper of the Plate?” I’m not sure why Jeff is calling Tristan that, but Pete just caught on because now he’s laughing, too.

  “Well, if Pete were gay I wouldn’t wanna break every fuckin’ bone in his body every time I’m reminded of him lapping up tequila from Camie’s bellybutton like a goddamned booze-hound. But then again if he were, catching Pete would take on a whole new meaning and fuel a vile rumor that Camie’s not ready to help me prove untrue. So, I’m fucked if he is and I’m fucked if he’s not, and being fucked either way isn’t any fuckin’ fun for me!”

  So you can imagine why Jeff and Pete have been completely racked with tremors of laughter. It took a little more explanation for the slower members of the party to understand what Tristan was saying, though.