Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

I SCROLL THOUGH Liv’s Twitter and TikTok, not seeing any new posts
since the day of Night Tide. Nothing since our showdown. Nothing about the
flag or the picture of me on Macon’s bed that had made the rounds in our
friends’ text messages.
I draw in a deep breath, uneasy. Something’s up. I mean, it’s totally like
her to refuse to acknowledge me, but she hasn’t posted anything. Not even
trading a barb with a politician or calling out injustice in the Sudan.
Nothing. Not even a response to anyone posting for her birthday today.
It is today. She’s eighteen now, still off limits as a student, but otherwise
perfectly legal for Martelle.
I grab the flag out from under my bed and stuff it in my backpack.
Leaving my bedroom, I head down the hallway, touching Henry’s door as I
go, and racing down the stairs.
I pass a long table with three small glass vases of calla lilies and take the
bunch out of one, swiping the water off the stems.
But then I hear my mom. “Clay?”
I pause, hearing the elliptical going from our home gym beyond the
kitchen, and sigh.
I head over and peek my head inside, seeing the sun barely up out of the
window behind her. It’s Monday, and we have team workouts this morning.
Olivia should be there. I tuck the flowers behind my back.
“We’ll be coming to your game this weekend,” she says, sweat glistening
across her chest in her pink sports bra.
“Both of you?”