Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

video of the assistant coach and me.
I ignore the question. “I’m a fighter,” I inform him. “But that is
something you never understood. Not everything is worth a fight. What do I
care what they think about me in twenty years? I won’t be thinking about
them at all.”
“Well, that’s just great,” he says, tossing his phone back down. “Because
as usual, everything is all about you.”
“On the contrary, finally something is.” I stare hard at him. “I don’t have
to stay in a community that hates me. I don’t have to put up with anything.”
“Then bite back!”
I shake my head. I bit back in that shower with her, and I loved seeing
how much she wanted it. I loved it too much. That was the problem.
Biting back could hurt me more than her. I can’t.
So, fuck it. I’m out. I’m eighteen. I got into Dartmouth. All I have to do
now is graduate high school, and it really doesn’t matter how or from where.
If Marymount decided to send me packing when I withdrew this week, I
could go to the public high school to finish my credits, and I’d still be going
to Dartmouth in the fall. Living my life. Free. Happy. I win.
The doorbell rings, and I see Trace head for it as Macon and my gazes
stay locked on each other. I eat another bite, finally looking away, rather than
play his infantile game of “Who’s Going to Blink First?”
I know what he’s saying. And part of me agrees. Part of me is consumed
by pride, and I hate that Clay Collins and her friends will get even a
moment’s satisfaction by running me off, but it’s not my responsibility to
educate them. It’s not my lot in life to survive them. Fuck them.
“What the hell?” I hear Trace gripe.
We all turn our heads as he opens the door wide, and I watch as Krisjen
steps into the house, her lacrosse uniform on and her hair in French braids.
My brothers stare at her, knowing exactly who she is. Her grandfather is
the judge Iron always gets every time he’s in trouble, and the judge who
would just love to be there when my brother gets his third strike.
“Really brave or really stupid,” Trace says, sounding amused. He turns
his head to me. “Any idea, Liv?”
“She’s not brave,” I tell him, scooping up more food and pinning Krisjen
with a stare. “Or smart.”
Just stupid.
“You have twenty seconds,” I tell her.