Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

around her.
She stands there, and after a moment she laughs a little. I realize my
mouth is hanging open. I close it, my eyes trailing down her legs again.
I rise and kiss her, lingering close and smelling her soap, perfume, and
lotion that all mixes to have this wonderful effect inside my belly.
“Nervous?” I ask.
She smiles. “In a good way.”
“You look amazing.”
She pulls away and sits, and I do too, a blush crossing my cheeks as I
meet her eyes. All I want to do is touch her, and she knows. Now it’s just a
matter of going through the motions until my bright idea of having a date
ends, and we can get out of here.
We sit there for a few moments, the awkwardness of ‘what to do now’
when we’re used to either making out, having sex, or fighting leaves us at a
loss for words.
“I own one non-school skirt,” she says, breaking the silence and
unwrapping her straw. “And this is it.”
I like it. I slide my legs out a little more, hugging one of hers between
mine. She leans her head on her hand, playing with her straw as her eyes fall
to the little tears in my white top, the skin peeking through.
“What?” I ask.
“You look amazing, too.”
I feel underdressed now, but…her eyes don’t lie as they continue to linger
on me.
She clears her throat as the server moves around the courtyard, music
drifting through the entrance from the diner. “I haven’t been on many dates,
to be honest,” she tells me. “Not sure how this is supposed to go.”
“We eat.” I unwrap my straw. “That usually takes the pressure off.”
I take a sip and stretch my arms over my head, taking some deep breaths
to get those heels off my mind, but then her skirt reminds me of something,
and I smile.
“I’ve seen you in that skirt before,” I tell her. “You wore it to a furniture
store a couple years ago.”
She cocks her head, not seeming to remember.
“I was there with my mom.” I hold up the tabasco sauce and the lemons,
giving her a choice. She points to the tabasco. “I think Army was working
there, loading a piece onto a truck, and you were tagging along, I guess,” I