The Other Fish in the Sea (17 page)

“So, is there anything else you guys wanna know about my private life (See?) or can we get back to the game and continue getting drunk?
Oh
Blechk!
” Tristan made a disgusted sound after having taken a drink from Kate’s bottle by mistake. “Jesus, Kate, little strong don’t ya think?”

“I like it just how it is, thank you very much,” she replied and snatched her drink from him.

“Whatever floats your boat,” he told her with a laugh.

“OH! Have you ever watched the Titanic go down?” Jeff asked, picking the game back up and letting out another little wicked cackle when everyone went to take a drink.

Tristan put his hand on my arm to stop me while taking a drink himself and then he flipped Jeff off. His middle finger should be in excellent shape after tonight…

When I looked up at him in question, he bent his head and whispered, “Not without gum, Camie.”

Oh yeah…I don’t know how I forgot about that.

“Yes, she has! We watched that documentary a few summers ago when they came out to visit...she even made a model of the damned thing as a home-school project!” Dylan accused. I did, it was fun.

Tristan leaned down and whispered, “Did you?” When I looked over my shoulder and nodded, his lips quirked and he was about to say something else, but he shook whatever it was off.

“Bro…not what he meant,” Derek informed Dylan and everyone else with a grin when he caught on.

“Oh!
Ew!
”
 
Bridget and Julia said together, both totally grossed out.

“Have either of you ever tried it?” Brandon asked, chuckling at their disgusted reaction.

“NO!” Julia said defiantly. I’m thinking she’s mostly talk now.

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I’m a girl and no matter what you guys
think
, we think that’s just nasty!”

“Not every girl…right dude?” Brandon asked Tristan who only replied by flipping Brandon off when I muttered an expletive or two under my breath. (Oh look, a zombie…)

“Well I have and trust me, I will
never ever
do it again,” Bridget said firmly.
 

“At the risk of making my boy-toy fly into a jealous rage, I gotta say that’s not what it sounded like to me earlier,” Pete said light heartedly, causing everyone to laugh and Bridget to throw him an irritated look.

“Since you and your
boy-toy
have both had so much experience with doing it, you should agree that it’s disgusting,” she retorted and made an unpleasantly realistic gagging sound. So Bridget’s
not
so much talk…

“Clearly your
technique
could use some work, but let’s clarify…are we talking about being the boat or being the iceberg?” That was Tristan and he’s totally making fun of her for the gagging.

“Uhh, the boat I think, is there really a difference?”

“Find yourself a talented boat and I guarantee you’ll have the answer to that.” Now I know he’s messing with her because his tone was distinctly conceited. Yeah, clearly he’s in a mood tonight.

“Okay, to clarify then, have you ever been the boat?” Derek asked and it was only him, Tristan, Jeff, Kate, Brandon, and Bridget who drank.

“Ever been the iceberg?” Again, Tristan, Derek, Jeff, Kate, and Brandon drank, leaving out Bridget, but they were joined by Melissa, MaryAnn, and Dylan. Huh. Not only is Pete a virgin, but like me, he hasn’t done much of anything whereas Dylan has. Wow, drinking games really do teach you stuff. Hey! This is like homeschool for the teenage debased!

“Hey, good for you…was it the cute little chick you’re goin’ out with now?” Brandon asked, sounding very pleased for Derek’s little brother.

“Yeah, we’ve been together for almost a year now.”

“A yea—Wait, when’d you get the blow job?” Brandon asked, like he was trying to add things up in his head.

“First time was at that eighth grade graduation party last year.”
 

“The fir—and you
still
haven’t returned the favor? Pretty chicken shit if you ask me,” Derek said and gave Dylan a chiding look while Brandon was shaking his head in disappointment.

“Better train him up, man…” Tristan admonished Derek who nodded his agreement while still looking at his little brother in reproof. I’m assuming this is more of the fabled Guy Code. Kind of like the Golden Rule. You know, do unto others as you would have them do unto you…

“Well, I gotta be honest, that just sounds completely gross,” Dylan admitted with a queasy look.

“
See?!
Guys don’t like doing it as much as we don’t!”

“The kid doesn’t speak for all of us,” Jeff said seriously, shaking his head.

“Are you saying you would
rather
be the boat?” Bridget asked almost taken aback.

“No, but every good captain goes down with his ship,” Jeff replied, giving Kate a high-five and then a sweet kiss on the cheek. Her expression is hysterical by the way, she gave a firm nod and I swear I wouldn’t have been surprised to hear her say, “Damned skippy.”

“Okay, so who would rather be the iceberg?” Julia asked. Every guy and girl it applied to in the tent aside from the solid wall behind me drank.

“No way,
that
is
total
bullshit!” Brandon said, sounding extremely confident.
 

“Why is that bullshit?” Tristan questioned in response with a small chuckle.
 

I’m not sure if he’s actually telling the truth, though. He might just be messing with Brandon now after bringing up Samantha and that infamous email I’ve still never been allowed to read. I mean Samantha’s not enough for either of us to call the game but, she still grates on my nerves pretty heavily and he knows that.

“
No
normal guy would rather go down on a chick over her going down on him.”

“Dude, haven’t you been paying
any
attention to this guy? He’s
not
normal! You don’t get to be the way he is
without
being different! And just so you know, Pete, Trist really does prefer to give rather than receive so that should go in the pros column too,” Jeff said, laughing while informing me that no, Tristan is not lying
or
messing with Brandon.
 

I’m now thinking he might be messing with me though. I’m kind of glad I can’t see his face…I’d lay some heavy odds that his eyes are a dark midnight blue by now even though he’s chuckling at Jeff’s “Gay Pete” joke.

“Is he tellin’ the truth? Would you
seriously
rather be the boat?” Dylan asked, very interested to hear from his new idol.

“Yep. I’d come back as a goddamned submarine if there’s such a thing as an afterlife.” Well, there’s a statement and a visual image for you. And I thought Jillian was blunt. Oh, and I don’t think I’ll be able to watch
Titanic
or
Hunt for Red October
ever again without being reminded of this night.
 

“
Why?
”

“I was brought up right and I enjoy doing things I’m good at.”
 

Yep. He’s
definitely
in a mood and even though he answered lazily, I totally caught the smug arrogance in his voice so I can rather vividly picture the cocky grin that always goes with the tone. The one that always makes my knees weak and has me feeling like silly putty.
 

Oh and by the by, I’d like to strangle Bridget for the “come hither” look she’s got on her face now and if I drink any more, I might just do it.

8.

Pirate Punch + Kevlar = The Designated Hitter & Sympathy From The Devil

So I didn’t strangle Bridget, but I did drink more. The problem with that is by the time Tristan and I retired to the bus,
I
was in a mood and sort of felt like doin’ a little pitching of my own.
He
, however, chose to bunt.

“
What
are you doing?” Tristan asked from somewhere in the neighborhood of my mid-section when I started wriggling around like a fish.

“Trying to get these damned pants off! They’re irritating the crap out of me,” I answered in frustration. They really are bugging me. Riding pants really aren’t the most comfortable or conducive to making-out article of clothing ever invented, plus, they’re sandy.

He chuckled at me and asked, “Would you like some help?”

“I would
love
some help! I thought you’d never ask!” I replied and giggled a little. I may have hiccuped too, but I’m not sure.

“Alright, but if they come off neither of us is gonna have much in the way of clothes on, you do know that, right?”
 

We really won’t. His sweat pants (the red ones with the orange logo down the leg) went right away because they were all wet after Ferb pulled Jeff’s full drink out of his hand and it spilled on Tristan right before we left the tent, and then I sent our shirts the way of the dinosaurs a while ago with my bra following them some time thereafter. So now I’m confronted with a dilemma…chuck the pants and retrieve a shirt and/or my bra—both of which sound like too much effort at this point and really, why bother—or keep the pants and deal with the bulk, sound, and sand, or say, “Screw it, I don’t care. Have your way with me then.” Decisions, decisions…

“Screw it, I don’t care. Have yourself a field day.”

He chuckled at me again, tented his hands on my tummy and considered me for a moment before saying, “Baby, you’re drunk.”

“Yep, little bit.” I’m pretty sure I did hiccup that time.

“Little bit Pete’s nice ass…a lot bit,” he said with another chuckle and some sarcasm.

“Okay fine, maybe more than a little bit…so what? You gonna take the rest of my clothes off or not?”

Tristan sighed deeply before answering, “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear those words come outta your mouth and I can
not
believe I’m gonna say this, but…no.” Are you thinking
WTF
too?!

“Are you freaking kidding me?” I mean come on; this has to be a joke, right?

“Uh-uh…no joke, Baby.” What the—? Did I say that out loud?

“Why the hell not?”
I’m not actually upset (maybe a little bit), but I’m really freaking confused and I’m also hearing Katy Perry singing “Hot and Cold,” because honestly, “Mr. I was wearing nothin’ but a towel after having sex fifteen times within twenty-four hours and would like nothing more than to be reincarnated as a goddamned submarine” is refusing to take his girlfri—I mean
MY
pants off! (Okay, maybe a lot bit.)

“Alright, let’s just talk about this for a min—”

“I don’t wanna talk about this for a minute!” I can’t believe he’s turning this opportunity down! I just want out of these pants and to get back to Teenage Pairs Smooching! You’d
think
he’d be totally all over the chance to medal in this event with me!

“Uh-huh, okay…answer me one question then. Are you honestly, deep down, ready for me to take a
full
swing at what you’re pitching me tonight?”

Uhhh. Ummm. Yes. I mean no. CRAP!
Maybe?

“That’s what I thought. You know what that hesitation tells me, don’t you? Baby, you’re not ready,” he told me in earnest and kissed my bellybutton.

Seriously, he flat-out
kissed
my bellybutton, and let me just say
Oh My God!
I may have actually said (said, moaned…whatever) that out loud. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did. If he keeps that up though, my mental maybe will become a probably and soon after, not just a verbal yes, but an enthusiastic hell yes!
 

“Bu—”
 

“But nothing. No.” Crap, he stopped in the middle of another bellybutton kiss. I
really
liked that.

“I really want out of these pants though Tristan…” Yeah, I’m completely whining and semi-willing to trade my virginity for getting out of my pants. And don’t you judge me until you’ve been stuck in nylon/polyester blend pants (
ugh,
the sound when they rub) with freaking hip pads and
KEVLAR
inner knee panels while your absurdly hot boyfriend is sending devastating sparks of lightning through your body with his ludicrously talented mouth! And just FYI,
bulletproof vests
have freaking Kevlar in them for crying out loud!

He considered me again for another thoughtful moment and drummed his fingers on my stomach the way he does sometimes when he’s making a decision.

“Alright, I’ll make you a deal. Your pants can come off, but a pair of mine goes back on and
stays
on. I’ll be damned if
either
of us gets naked tonight. Understand?”

“Yeah, I got it…I’m Bridget and you’re being like Pete.” I’m pouting and now I think I have a little understanding of how Bridget felt earlier, not that she doesn’t completely irk me with the covetous way she looks at Tristan, but still.

“Oh shit, Camie, you think I’m
rejecting
you?”

“I don’t think, I know.” That’s what the word “No” means, right?

 
“Aw, Baby…you have to know I would love nothing more than to get naked with you right here and now, but you’re drun—”

“You’re not exactly sober you know.” He’s not. But he’s more sober than I am even though he drank quite a bit more than me. However on the other hand, he also outweighs me by more than a hundred pounds and he’s had
way
more practice than I have.

“I’m sober enough.”

“Enough for what?” I hate to admit it, but I really sound like a spoiled brat right now. It’s not flattering.

“I’m sober enough to still care that
you
are not,” he told me tenderly.

Ah. I think I’m having a light bulb moment…let’s see.

“Why is that such a big deal?” I asked in a much more rational manner. I really want to know and I think, if my hunch is correct, I’m gonna owe him one.

He sighed again and gave my tummy another little kiss before explaining, “I want you to be one hundred percent sober when you make the choice to go further than we’ve already been, Camie. After that I’ll get bombed with you and we can have a heyday being drunk together if that’s what you want, but for every landmark we hit I want you sober the first time.”
 

“I wasn’t sober at Mike’s.” He should remember that night fairly well…it was only the night he tore my Halloween costume from me and we got just a tad more naked and carried away than we have since.