The Other Fish in the Sea (51 page)

“Sharp and stabbing or low, dull aching?” He asked in what sounded sort of like curiosity.

“Um, low, dull aching. Why? Do you think it’s something to worry about?” I asked, thinking that maybe I shouldn’t ignore something that might be symptomatic of a more serious condition like appendicitis. Not that I don’t know my appendix isn’t anywhere near where I’m experiencing pain, I was just using it as an example. You know, just saying. Oh but wait, stomach pain
is
an early symptom of anaphylaxis… Crap, that would be inconvenient to say the least.

“Nope, nothing to worry about, but welcome to my world…sucks, doesn’t it?”

“Huh?” Really…huh? I mean yes, it does actually suck and I have to say I’m relieved he doesn’t think it’s anything serious but…huh?

A ghost of his typical cocky grin made an appearance right before he sat down next to me in bed again and said, “It’s my fault, Camie. I got you all worked up and then didn’t finish the job…your body’s pissed off about not getting what it was gearing up for.”

Oh shit. Add this to the list of things I wish I knew previously. And I knew he was right the second he said it, but then something else he’d said exploded into my understanding. “Wait, welcome to your world? You’ve been living with physical pain?” Tristan just nodded so I asked the two questions that logically follow. “For how long?! And why the hell wouldn’t you tell me about that?”

“Pretty much from jump, but any time we step up our game, it’s worse. So while New Year’s was
a lot
of fun…well, you get the picture. And if you’ll recall, I did mention it at least once on Halloween when we were deciding where to draw the line, but then I realized you didn’t know I was being literal and I wasn’t about to bring it up again because that’s practically a form of coercion in itself.”

“I’m not sure I like being responsible for causing you physical pain, Tristan, mayb—”

“Camie, I’m a big boy, I know what I signed on for…in that respect anyway, even if you didn’t, and I’m not about to forego making-out with my girlfriend just because it might hurt a little afterwards.”

Huh. He has a point. I wouldn’t give up any of that either if I was in his shoes, and yeah, it hurts, but it’s not
that
bad.

“So um, you’d be okay with me initiating a secondary make-up kiss? I mean, the first one was kind of a bust…” I said, crawling onto his lap to face him.

“Mm-hm, as long as it’s non-icky…” he answered with boyish seriousness and rested his forehead on mine.

“I promise. My days of prostitution are over. But, I still really wanna go to the dance though.”

“I know. But I still really don’t.”

“I know, and since I think I’d prefer your brains in your head rather than smeared all over a dance floor, I won’t bug you about it anymore.”

“Were you gonna kiss me anytime soon? The whole patience thing…not my strong suit, remember?” Tristan asked with a more definite arrogant grin.

“I think you’re very patient, and I for one, appreciate your great effort,” I said and decided to play with him by pretending I was about to kiss him and then just kissing his nose.
 

“You’re mean,” he said right before I started kissing his neck. Then he closed his eyes on a slight moan that I took to be a retraction of his previous statement.
 

So I initiated and reassured while he responded accordingly until he took over, not stopping at any point until my body was no longer pissed at either of us and his had some new, crescent-shaped battle wounds. But when he got up with the intention of alleviating what I was responsible for creating, I dug back into his arms to stop him. He was right. I’ve been selfish in the extreme and it’s about time I put on my big girl panties by participating in this non-farcical relationship as an equal partner. I also need to reevaluate my aforementioned equation.
 

Sex might = Power, but Power does not = Formalwear. Power = Responsibility, and I can’t help but think of the saying “with great power comes great responsibility,” so I fully intend to take responsibility for my actions or lack thereof from here on out and do unto my boyfriend as I would have him do unto me. I, uh…I just don’t know how…

“Baby, we’ve been through this, I don’t mind…really,” Tristan said, giving me the out with far more grace than I think I deserve.

“Well
I
do mind. Only…I don’t know what to do,” I admitted rather bashfully for someone who is buck-ass naked and still recovering from one hell of an orgasm.
 

 
“Baby, that’s not really a secret and I don’t expect you to know anything,
buuut
if you honestly trust me and you’re willing to learn, I am
certainly
not opposed to teaching,” Tristan told me in a tone that was laughably matter of fact.

And yeah I know I said I wanted to learn how to have actual sex before learning to give a hand job or a blow job, however now I’m thinking of them as baby-steps. And after learning a little about both, I gotta be honest, I still prefer being the iceberg, which is cool with Tristan because he still prefers being the boat. But, like Jeff said in the desert…every good captain goes down with his/her ship. And truth be told, I didn’t even need gum for my maiden voyage into that particular sea.

Now, I’m not sure if your high school has ROP (Google it if need be) but I was initially pretty freaked out by the skill set I was endeavoring to learn in my new home version of it, and I don’t really know what kind of student I am, although Tristan seemed pretty pleased with where I fell on the learning curve and we spent the rest of the night either opening up and talking, or teasing each other with equally climactic periods of activity interspersed throughout the hours.

When night school was officially out of session and dawn was approaching, I snuggled up closer to him and, not as an afterthought but something I felt I should’ve probably done weeks ago, I whispered, “Tristan, I love you too.”

He didn’t say anything but he gave me a squeeze and a sweet kiss on my forehead before nestling me closer against him and then, finally, we were both able to fall asleep. And as I did, the delicate sound of sprinkling rain pattering and nourishing the world outside made me think about the fresh blooms and new leaves I would no doubt see on the plants. It reminded me that after every storm there will inevitably be new growth, and that isn’t something to fear, but something to welcome and look forward to, and really, something to be in awe of.

27.

Bella Is An Idiot

Tristan and I woke up Thursday morning to find the storm had passed and that the sun was shining in the bright blue sky. We also found that we were late for school. We really only got about an hour or so of actual sleep so when the alarm went off; we were both more than happy to ignore it. Actually, Tristan ended up yanking the cord from the wall and throwing the previously annoying clock across the room. I, of course, sleepily cheered him on.
 

So without an alarm clock to pester us, you might be wondering what actually woke us up…well, I’ll tell you. It was our cell phones. Yes, both of them. Jillian was alternating between calling his and then mine until one of us answered. I hadn’t brought my cell phone into his room in the middle of the night, so I asked her how it got there and was told that she’d intended to wake us up long before she left the house, but when she peeked in and saw the evidence of our night school, that being the comforter and my pajamas, along with both Tristan’s and my underwear strewn haphazardly around the room, not to mention the alarm clock dangling from an arm of the floor lamp, she thought better of it and opted to call us repeatedly, so she put my phone next to my side of the bed and turned the volume all the way up on both phones. We might have to be concerned with blackmail photos, but at least Tristan and I don’t have to worry about my sister just running her mouth about exactly how much she saw and what her theories are on what we were doing all night. Jilly seriously knows how to keep her mouth shut when it matters.

And surprising as this was for me to discover, not getting much sleep (honestly, I’ve taken longer naps before) didn’t make me feel bone-deep tired. I was actually kind of hyper. Well, until around the middle of lunch that is. Tristan and I both pretty much crashed from our mutual high at that point. Although before that happened, any time I looked at him and caught him watching me, his eyes were dancing dark orbs and rather than blushing at the memories like the previously innocent girl I was would’ve, I would plant a very not-so-innocent kiss on him as a promise for later. Tristan’s responding kisses were ones that very clearly said, “Ditto.”

And I don’t think the partial conversation I overheard between Tristan and Jeff right before English started had anything to do with our jet lag-like crash at lunch because we were still more than happy to be exhausted together. It was more of a confirmation of how close I came to being boyfriendless with my admittedly sleazy attempt to seize some power in a situation that I’ve since come to understand works both ways and is really a matter of mutual respect and trust.
 

Tristan was leaning on the doorframe of our classroom with his back to the hall and I’m assuming Jeff was just inside, and truthfully, I
had
intended to just walk into class, but then I realized what they were talking about and I couldn’t seem to make my feet move.

“…break-up with her,” I overheard Jeff say as I approached Mrs. Henderson’s classroom.
 

And okay, yeah, it’s a petulant thing to do, but I decided to eavesdrop anyway because Tristan’s response stopped me cold and really did tell me what a close call I’d had.
 

“I know, but…I thought about it.” (
VERY
close.)

“But you didn’t, and here you are…
still
waiting,” Jeff said with a laugh, and all of a sudden, I had a mental image of Jeff riding Tristan piggyback. Which is hysterical in the very wrongest of ways.
 

“Listen, you fuckwit, you have
no
idea what it’s like, so lighten the fuck up,” Tristan growled, doing a fair job of maintaining a modicum of decorum.

“Jesus, Trist, relax…”
 

“Yeah, well, my patience is wearing
really
fuckin’ thin…I’m just about at the end of my rope w—”

“Hey Camie! Missed you in Geometry this morning,” Brenna called out to me as she passed me and the door to my class on her way to her own English class, causing Tristan to break off in mid-sentence and my feet to begin their forward motion again.

“Hi Brenna, yeah, I uh, had a long night and then overslept,” I answered over my shoulder with a laugh and wrapped my arms around Tristan as he turned to hug me in the doorway.

Chuckling under his breath, Tristan bent to whisper, “Understatement,” and then as he straightened from kissing my cheek, he said with sarcastically feigned excitement, “Come on, we’re starting Stupid New Moon today and I just can’t
wait
to see what Edward gives Bella for her birthday…maybe it’ll give me some ideas.”

Yeah, we’re reading the
Twilight Saga
in my honors English Literature class. Why the hell would we be doing that, you ask? Seeing as how the books aren’t exactly literary classics even though they
are
really fun reads and I love them dearly… Well first, Mrs. Henderson isn’t normal for one thing but when we came back from break, she made it students’ choice. Actually, it was a cool thing to do because most of the kids in this class will be studying their asses off for the SATs this month. Anyway, the girl whose name she drew out of the hat chose
Twilight
, so we read that, then the next person whose choice it was picked
New
Moon
, so I’m sure we’ll just end up reading the whole series. Oh and Tristan called it “Stupid New Moon” because that’s what I call it. It’s my least favorite book out of the four and it just irks me to no end. And I would be all happy about Tristan getting ideas for my birthday present except that I know what he doesn’t, and that is that Bella (idiot) wouldn’t allow Edward to get her a damned thing and personally, I happen to
want
a present from my boyfriend.

Anyhow, apparently Tristan didn’t get into any detail on what prompted our fight because while at lunch, I was sitting on a step of the stage with Tristan one step above me with his arms wrapped around me and his chin on my shoulder, both of us practically asleep, when Jeff brought up the dance again.

“So, you never told me, who’s winning the battle of the dance?”

With our eyes closed, we both just flipped him off and added a “Fuck off, Jeff” for good measure. Jeff started cracking up.

We made it through the rest of the school day occasionally being referred to as cast members from
Night of the Living Dead
which was fine because it just helps me get into character for Jillian’s birthday party tomorrow night. Everyone is to come dressed in costume either as an infamous murderer or a slain victim. She’s planning on featuring all the really great original slasher films beginning with
Friday the 13
^th
and ending the film festival with
A Nightmare On Elm Street
. The plan is to use a projector in our backyard but with the chance of rain, I’m not sure how she’s gonna pull it off. She might have to settle for movies in the garage instead of movies in the park, but you never know. It
is
Jillian we’re talking about here.

Anyway, Tristan and I ended up giving each other a rain check on our mutual promises for later because when we got home, we were essentially asleep on our feet. We fell asleep on the couch and even slept through dinner.
 

*****

“And when do you think the results will be in?” I asked the allergist Friday afternoon as she handed me what I swear was like a novella of crap to avoid while waiting to find out what I’m actually allergic to if anything. Seriously, there are practically three whole pages, front
and
back, of stuff I’m somehow supposed to not ingest and/or come in contact with. Yeah, right. Like that’ll happen.