Dak
“Have fun you two,” Alex calls to us before the door closes behind him and Nikki.
When he sent me a text to meet him at the Thirsty Whale, I knew something was up because he’s never asked to meet me before. I thought it had something to do with his getting together with Erik, and after a weight training session at the gym with the guys, I was starving and a little curious, so I agreed to meet him. If he’d mentioned Trace was going to be here, I would have shown up an hour ago and waited for them like some lovesick fanboy. The mixed-up, inexplicable thoughts of her are completely screwing with my ability to enjoy any other girl. I need to figure out what’s going on with her and me, or, since there is no her and me, at least with my overzealous interest in her.
Even though I told him I wasn’t interested, it looks like Alex is up to some shifty, matchmaking tricks after all, although I’m not as ticked off by the idea as Trace appears to be. From the scowl on her face and her suggestion of offing him, I don’t think she’s too happy about Alex’s antics.
Doesn’t matter. Aside from the temperature-rising thoughts of her which keep filling my mind, a deal is a deal and we need to get this project done whether she wants to study with me or not. If it takes Alex to get us together in the same room, I’ll take what I can get.
Professor Clancy gave us the assignment last Friday to go out in the research vessel and collect phytoplankton samples to bring back to the lab for analysis. It’s research we’re both going to need for our theses topics. My topic involves plankton calcification under rising carbon dioxide scenarios; in other words, changes caused by ocean acidification. It’s similar to Trace’s topic, which means we’re going to need a lot of the same info. The problem is, it’s been a week since Clancy gave us the assignment, with two weeks to get out there, collect samples, do our lab analysis, and submit our results, and even though Trace and I made a deal for her to help me study if I skate with her in the Winter Fest, she’s avoiding me like the plague.
She keeps making excuses. Something about another paper she has to finish and then something about a kayak tour she has to take out on Saturday, and on and on the excuses flow.
The truth is, I’m not too excited about the venture either. The combo of a girl and me in a boat has me kind of jittery. Good thing the research boats aren’t small vessels. Since they accommodate all the equipment, they need to be at least thirty feet. The research work is important for both of us, but since the accident with Abbey three years ago, taking a small boat out isn’t something I’m prepared to do. I’m feeling comfortable nothing short of a major hurricane is going to flip a boat the size of the Arctic Tern. The good news is, major hurricanes are unusual for Maine. But if we do happen to get heavy winds, they’re just enough to make for some interesting swell for surfing along the Portland coast, not enough to cause an Into the Storm type of catastrophe.
It’s completely weird. I can enter the back door of a barrel and ride it without a blink of the eye, or smash a two-hundred thirty pound defenseman against the boards without hesitation, but the thought of rowing in a canoe has me trembling like an abandoned kitten. Canoeing, kayaking, and playing hockey used to be my favorite things to do in my free time, besides surfing and making love to Abbey, until that fateful day. I haven’t climbed into a canoe or kayak since.
The thing is, whatever size the boats are for class research, I need to grow a pair and do it. Got to get my work done for this Bio class and there’s only a week left to hand in our first assignment.
“What are you doing here?” Trace’s seething comment brings me out of my thoughts.
“Mind if I join you?” Not waiting for an answer, I slide into the bench seat opposite her.
“Sure. Why not? Have a seat. Oh wait. You already did.” She breathes out through her nose and purses her lips.
A cute waitress comes by and puts two beers on the table.
“How thoughtful of you, Bambi.” I grin. “You ordered me a beer.”
“I didn’t. They were—”
“Anything else?” the curvy blonde waitress inquires with a smile and flutter of her lashes.
“Sure. I’ll have what she’s having. I hear the burgers are intense.”
“They’re amazing,” the waitress, in a tit revealing tank top, confirms with another smile and flutter of her overworked lashes. Her hungry gaze has me wondering if she’s referring to the burgers.
A couple of weeks ago I would have jumped all over her obvious invitation. Now, the unexpected object of all my desires is sitting across the table scowling at me. The waitress lingers for a long moment.
“That’s it for now, thanks,” Trace says flatly.
“Be right back,” the waitress says without looking at Trace, but gives me another ravenous up and down scan before hurrying off to place my order.
Glaring after her, Trace tilts her head in annoyance. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“Since you joined me without my invitation, do you think you could put away your slutty charm for five minutes?”
“I’m just sitting here. I didn’t do anything,” I protest, but since I’m doing it with a big grin on my face while stealing one of her fries I don’t think she’s buying my innocent routine.
“Wait for your own food,” she snaps and moves her dish away from my reach.
“I’m a growing boy, Bambi. I need sustenance from you now.” I run my tongue over my lips to affirm my double meaning, and since she’s snorting air through her nose like a bull ready to attack, I think she gets it. I can’t help it. It’s so easy to get her riled and I get hard watching the fury flame in her eyes every time I push her buttons.
“You’re such a pig.” She rolls her eyes.
“You know, you should stop calling me names. You’re giving me a complex,” I quip and reach for another fry. She tries to smack my hand away, but I’m too quick and manage to steal another two fries from her plate.
“What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” she asks again. “Did you come in just to steal my dinner and give me indigestion in the process?”
“No. Alex invited me.” I sit back in my seat, arms crossed over my chest, and give her a smug grin.
“Oh, Alex invited you,” she drawls out and crosses her arms over her chest to mimic my pose, only her chest is way more interesting than mine. I can’t keep my gaze from dropping to follow her movement.
“And he was so happy to see you. I wonder why he isn’t here giving you sustenance? And by the way, my eyes are getting jealous.” She waves her hand in front of my face and then in front of her eyes to indicate where I should be looking. “They would love it if you would look up here at them.”
“Huh? Oh. Sorry. I was admiring your shirt.” It’s not a total lie. I love all her Save the Ocean inspired t-shirts, and the way she fills them out.
“Right. So why are you here?”
Before I can respond, the waitress comes back to our table with my burger and another plate piled high with fries.
“What the hell? The rest of us didn’t get a separate plate with all those fries,” Trace protests in sheer disgust.
“Are you sure I can’t get you anything else?” the persistent waitress asks in a breathy tone without acknowledging Trace.
“No. Thanks. That’s it for now.” I smile, enough to be polite, not enough to be encouraging.
“Okay. Well my name is Ginger. If you need anything, anything at all, just give me a call.” She bends over to take an empty beer glass from the table and almost shoves her full tits in my mouth before wiggling her ass away. Normally my cock would have insisted I follow that action. Now the only thing he wants is the spirited chick glaring at me from across the table.
“Oh for fuck sakes. She just put women’s rights back a hundred years. Would it be too much to ask for you to stop eye fucking other girls while you’re sitting with me?”
Wow. I know I hold a special ability to irritate her, but she’s beyond pissed right now. Methinks the lady doth protesteth a little too mucheth. Do I detect a Trace of jealousy?
“Would you prefer I eye fuck you? Because I would be more than happy to.”
“I would prefer you leave me alone.” She throws her napkin on the table and starts to slide out of the booth.
I grab her hand to keep her from getting up, and for a second she doesn’t pull her hand away. “Sorry. I’m just messing with you. I swear I wasn’t flirting with that chick. I would never do that while sitting with you.”
“No. I suppose there’s plenty of time when you’re not with me.” She gives me a smug look and pulls her hand from mine.
“Um…well…” I’m not about to tell her I haven’t even glanced at another girl since I crashed into her. That is, since she crashed into me, because the only one my dick wants these days is her.
“Forget it. It doesn’t matter. Got to go. Schoolwork to do,” she says, and I swear a shadow of sadness, which matches her curt, disappointed tone, fills her eyes. Now I feel like a complete douche. I love messing with her, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings.
“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad. I’m not interested in that girl. I only want to set up a time to get together to do our research project. There’s one more week to get it done. What do you say we get together this weekend?”
“Yeah, the research project. Okay.” She sighs. “Put your number in my phone and I’ll text you a time that works for me.”
This side of Trace is a far cry from the confrontational side she’s been showing me. I type my contact info into her phone, entering my name as Jackass, then slide the phone back to her. I figure it will give her a laugh. But she doesn’t look at it before getting up and shoving it into the back pocket of her jeans. She stands there without saying a word.
The expression on her face has my chest hurting. My childish behavior can’t be the reason for the level of pain I see in her eyes. It’s something much deeper than what passed between us.
Sure. I wouldn’t call our interactions the most pleasant since we met, but I hate seeing her like this. While the strangest urge to wrap my arms around her and comfort her sweeps over me, she might kick me in the balls if I try to touch her. And since I like my balls and want to keep them intact I only say, “I’ll be waiting for your text to find out what time you want to get together.”
“Okay. See ya.” No sarcastic remark, no name-calling, no nasty glare. Just “see ya” and she turns to leave.
“Trace,” I call after her. She glances back at me. “I’m sorry,” I offer again, because I don’t know what else to say to make it better.
“It’s fine. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your problem.” She sighs again and heads for the door.
This unusual girl has seeped into every pore of my skin and if she has a problem, I think I want to help her fix it.