Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

But still, I don’t let her go, grazing her skin with my lips.
Oh, God. She lets the orgasm run through me before placing the
showerhead back on the hook, and then she leans into my ear, the showers
around us filling with people. “It’s a shame you’ll be wasted on him,” she
whispers, steam billowing around us. “We would’ve had so much fun.”
Would’ve.
I don’t look up as she takes her towel and leaves. I sink to the floor,
unable to move another inch for minutes as everyone showers, dresses, and
the first bell rings for class.
Would’ve had so much fun, she’d said. Would’ve.
When I finally come out, her locker hangs open and empty.
• • •
Over the next few days, word spreads that Oliver Jaeger is finishing the
school year from home—some story about her family needing her, but almost
everyone knows it’s because of me. Sideways glances greet me when I pass
students in the hall or cafeteria, some with smiles of approval and some with
hints of fear. Speculation is abundant on what I supposedly did to scare her
off, but no one knows for sure.
On Wednesday, I pass her main locker, noticing the flowers were still
there, dried and yellowed. Did she see them before she left? She would’ve
taken them if she’d wanted them.
I have to hand it to her. She wasn’t bluffing. She hadn’t come back to
school. She was serious.
I sit in calculus, our fifth-period class we share—or used to share—her
desk to my left and at the very front still sitting empty. It’s nice not to have
her here anymore. She always had to look so different. All that silver in her
ears, glinting with the sunlight streaming through the windows, hugely
distracting.
The slutwear, the short skirts and the fire engine red lipstick that no one
understood the point of. I mean, was she trying to get the boys’ attention?
Because she did, which seemed opposite of what you’d think she’d want.
Still, though. The lipstick really was perfect for her skin tone. The little
braids peeking out of her ponytails looked like they grew that way, and it was
hard not to look at her.
It was hard for anyone not to look at her.