Shark Bait (The Grab Your Pole Series) (43 page)

My request didn’t have the effect on him that I thought it would though…

23.

A Beautiful Morning For Baseball

Tristan started laughing like I’d just told the funniest joke he’d ever heard, but when I just sat there staring at him, he sobered up and his eyes got wide with understanding.

“Oh God, you’re
serious
…”

“Dead.”

“Bu—wh—
why?
” He stammered, totally disconcerted by my request.

“Honestly, because your ah…
proclivities
worry m—”

“Oh, I don’t think I like where this is going…I fuckin’
knew
telling you about all that would bite me in the ass. Camie, we’ve been over this, I can’t go back in time and I can’t change what I—” he said before I took the conversational reigns back.

“I know that, and I’m totally not asking or expecting you to either…but Tristan, look where I’m at and where your hands are,” I said for added emphasis to prove my point.

He’s got one hand under my pants on my butt and the other has been more than busy above my waist. I mean we’re at
school
for goodness sake!

“But it’s not their fault! They can’t help it if they’ve been given the good fortune to travel!” He defended himself by way of blaming himself.

He really does have a great sense of humor, it just might not always seem like it because of his intensity.

“Besides, you have a really great ass, Camie, that can’t be ignored…I mean ignoring the perfection of your ass would be like an affront to God.”

“Thank you. But it’s not even your hands that concern me so much as my reaction to when you’ve got your lips on me and frankly, it scares the shit outta me, Tristan. I mean it’s just too much too fast. I need us to go slower and go back a bit until we can learn to pace ourselves better. Oh and would you mind re-hooking my bra for me, please?”

Yeah, I told you before, uber-dexterous and lightning fast fingers on this guy. Seriously, Tristan’s talent with bras reminds me of Joey from the T.V. show
Friends
who could just look at one and it’d pop open.

While he refastened the clasp quickly and deftly, he kind of narrowed his eyes at me but not in any negative way; it was more petulant than anything else. He then took it upon himself to make sure my bra was in the proper place, which of course made me shiver and gave me goose bumps. That is to say, goose bumps I couldn’t hide, which in turn delighted him to no end so he continued his effort in producing them,
however
, we were still able to carry on a somewhat coherent conversation. Totally wrong, I know…

“So exactly what base are we talking about here? Because there’s really quite a bit more than the three and home plate,” he asked, doing a pretty decent job of using his hands to distract me.

“Uh…well, this will have to stop…” Of course I didn’t have the willpower to tell him to stop. Actually, I’m starting to wonder what my reasoning behind not allowing this was in the first place.

“Why does this have to go? I’m even more fond of them than I am of your ass, which is
really
sayin’ something…
besides,
you like it.” He sounded serious as he reasoned but his eyes are twinkling so I know he’s kinda playing with me.

Oh yeah, I don’t think I’ve mentioned that I finally figured out that his eyes shift in intensity and color according to his mood, which I find both helpful and at times, a little unnerving.

“Uh-huh…I really do, but, uh…that’s not the, um…the point here…” I muttered incoherently.

Tristan’s reply came in the form of a wickedly cocky grin and an immediate deepening in his remarkable blue eyes before he pulled me down to him so he could kiss me.

“Stop! Hands where I can see them!” I mumbled into his neck the second I realized that my bra had become free again.

“Okay, okay…I’ll fight fair,” he conceded with a small chuckle. His eyes are still pretty dark, but they’re twinkling again too, so I feel I can believe him.

“Thank you. I’m not asking you to live like a monk you know.”

He kind of grunted about that while he re-re-fastened my bra for me. “Seriously Camie, if you want me to behave I’m gonna need an idea of boundaries, so, gimme an example of where you wanna stop.”

So far, he’s been dealing with this far better than I’d thought he would. However, I have a feeling that what I’m about to say will cause some fireworks. But, despite the fact that we’re in a very enclosed space, I gave him an example anyway and then cringed, waiting for the explosion.

“Um, I’m kinda thinking during the movies.”

“Oh please no…Camie, that’s just—” he started to beg.

“That’s just what? Unreasonable? Impossible?”

I couldn’t help teasing him a little. I knew this was where I’d meet the most resistance if we got to this point and I don’t really blame him at all. And although his eyes aren’t twinkling anymore, he hadn’t exploded, so at least I know he’s making an effort to give me what I’m asking of him—even if his hands
are
still under my shirt.

“Well I was gonna say extremely fuckin’ difficult, but I like your words better so let’s use them,” he replied with an uncomfortable laugh.

“No…when we were at the movies
and
at the beach, you had no trouble keeping your hands to yoursel—” I started to say before he cut me off with laughable disbelief.

“
No trouble?
Camie, you have no idea how goddamned painful that was for me! Not the beach so much because I was still pretty much shell shocked by what kissing you is like in the first place and that’s why I tried to avoid it the rest of the night, but let’s not forget who we’re talkin’ about here, so trust me when I say the movies took a
hell of a lot
of effort!

“I mean I’m not gonna say it’s impossible, but I
really, really
don’t wanna have to pick up the bat and swing again after you already pitched me a base hit, you know? I mean come on, that would be considered what…? A foul ball? And honestly, I don’t how well I’d handle a bad hit like that, so, what about just tagging up at first a little? Not quite like Saturday night, but
something
along those lines. Still totally in the ballpark but not a foul ball either,” he offered as a compromise.

Holy shit!
That’s
what he’s thinking of as first base?! Good grief Charlie Brown, he’s so far out of my league that I don’t think I’m even playing the same sport!

Taking a deep breath and trying not to reveal my sudden feeling of inadequacy, I was about to come back with a counter offer when a knock on the window startled me and I did what I always do…I squeaked, which Tristan thought was pretty hilarious. And for whatever reason,
that
embarrassed me.
Nooo,
not telling a guy I’d need gum in order to give him a blowjob, or being more than half-naked with a guy and almost having sex for the time, nor sitting on said guy’s lap while he has an obvious erection…no, none of
that
embarrasses me. Nope, squeaking like a timid mouse in front of him…
that’s
what turns my face bright red. I’m tellin’ ya, I have issues. So because of that, I hid my face in his chest while he laughed and rolled the window down to see what the hell “Fuckin’ Jeff” wanted.

Yeah, I’m kind of blaming Jeff for the cheerleader right now. I know it really wasn’t his fault, but whatever.

“Jesus, Jeff, you scared the shit outta us,” Tristan said, still laughing and hugging me to him.

Now keep in mind I’m still straddling Tristan’s lap and one of his hands is still on my back under my shirt. Oh, and the fingers of that one hand are absentmindedly playing with the damned clasp of my bra again. I swear! It’s like he just can’t help himself!

“Whatchya guys doin’?” Jeff asked playfully, looking to be in an extraordinarily great mood.

“Talking sports and finalizing the terms of our contract…shit, I’m sorry. (I just swatted his hand away, but I’m pretty sure he got one hook undone already.) Oh there, ya see? I didn’t even know I was doing that…what do you want?” Tristan informed Jeff, apologized to me, and then questioned Jeff all in one breath.

“Ah. It is indeed a beautiful morning for baseball...I thought you
might
be swimming. Want me to come back for you before school starts, Mr. October?” Jeff asked with a whimsical expression on his face.

He’s obviously and totally picked up on what Tristan had implied, and I get his Mr. October comment referring to someone who plays professional baseball and hits a lot of homeruns during the race for the Pennant, but I don’t get the swimming part of what he said.

Tristan looked at the clock and then at me for a thoughtful moment. “Yeah, why don’t you come back.”

“Swimming? How many damned sport euphemisms
are
there for what we’re discussing?” I asked once he rolled the window back up and Jeff walked away.

He laughed again and shook his head. “No, he meant swimming literally…it’s kinda my habit to get here really early and swim before school. I’m guessing he wasn’t sure how things would go this morning either and was checking up on me…
orrr
, nope…he was checking up on you for Kate. See?” He pointed to Jeff talking on his phone.

“Whatever,” I said a little testily.

So, apparently all three of them have super human powers of some kind or another in which to read people. I feel so left out.

“Oh Camie, don’t be grumpy…where were we? Oh yeah, you were gonna agree to giving me the hit,” he said and gave me another slightly cocky grin.

“Uh, no. I think we need to establish that there’s a discrepancy in the version of baseball we’re talking about playing…you’re stuck on fast pitch and I’m still thinking of T-Ball.”

“Aw come on, give yourself some credit! You’re more than qualified to play in the big leagues. And I hate to be the one to tell you this, o’ girlfriend of mine, but
you
are an
excellent
pitcher,” he said in compliment with another teasing grin and a little eyebrow waggling. All of which went past cheering me up and took me right to giddiness.

He’s really very irresistible when he teases like this and if I remember correctly, this is exactly the kind of teasing that led us to the “Black Thong Bargain” of a week ago, which gave me an idea.

“Okay, I may be qualified but I’d prefer not to leave the minors just yet, so, here’s my final offer…
After
the movies at your house,
but,
we keep our clothes on. That way, we can just say you’ve been walked so the foul is eliminated and there’s no need for you to be at bat anymore either.”

He drummed his fingers on my butt while he contemplated my scenario. “I can do that but if memory serves, you pitched a fast ball that night and that’s how we both lost our shirts…so, what happens in the event that you feel like throwing?”

“Huh. That’s a good question…” I took a moment to noodle on that one. “I think I’m much more concerned with you running the bases and me not being able to field well enough to wanna stop you, but I guess if you’re not actively
trying
to steal a base and
I
throw you a fast one...? Well, in that case, swing away Merrill, swing away…” I said, giving him the green light with a quote from the movie
Signs
.

I mean if it’s me pushing ahead then that’s one thing…he was totally able to stop himself that night when all I barely uttered was a sound telling him no. I’m just afraid of not being able to say no if he tries to steal second, third, or God forbid at this point, home.

“Nice! Good movie… Okay, so lemme just sum this up so we both know what the score is… I can hover somewhere around first, provided our clothes stay on and no stealing, but if you gimme the go ahead, I’m free and clear to swing at whatever you pitch, right?” He asked as his eyes flashed.

I think the flashing in this case is excitement…almost like he’s excited to actually play baseball. I’m also thinking all this talk about sports may have gone to his head. I know it’s gone to mine because I’ve had the song “Supermassive Black Hole” by Muse playing in my head this
whole
freaking time
—it’s the song that was playing during the baseball scene in the movie
Twilight
.

“Uh, I think so…Oh! What if I balk?” I asked, wondering about what happens in the event that I
think
I want to do something but at the last minute decide I don’t.

“One word and we’ll call the game on account of rain,” he answered seriously and without any hesitation whatsoever.

“Can you be sure you’ll be able to do that? I mean yesterday morning was close…you were
not
in control,” I reminded him, remembering my necessary flight.

He grimaced at the reminder but confidently said, “Yeah, but the entire week and everything that went down Saturday night led up to that… Honestly, I’m really not that rabid, Camie. I think we’ll be fine if we’re not venting a week’s worth of frustration and hostility out on each other like we were which is also why it’s so important to me that we don’t bottle shit up.”

Well that’s interesting. He’s picked up on how carried away we get after or during a fight too. Now I definitely want to make a mental note to ask him his thoughts on that.

“I was pretty damned specific when I chose that song for this morning, so if whatever it takes means that I get nothin’ when we’re pissed at each other, then so be it. I mean I might not be happy about it, but whatever, I’ll just deal. I absolutely do not want you doing anything you’re uncomfortable with.” Aw, there’s my lurking gentleman.

“Okay, but only if you’re sure.”

“Whatever it takes, Camie,” he reiterated with meaning, decisively nodding his head as memories of this morning soared through me.

“Hey that reminds me, I wanted to ask how you came up with
Say Anything
…seriously, how did you know that would get through to me?”

I mean, I don’t think he could’ve picked a better way to make his point. It was very reminiscent of asking me out with Buffy which worked
very
well, but really, how did he know I’d get what he was doing? We really haven’t talked a whole lot about my deep and abiding fondness for all things ‘80s before aside from maybe music, but even that encompassed a lot more than just ‘80s music.