Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

A water bottle falls into the tin garbage can, and I look down, seeing cool
water droplets on my arm.
My heart leaps into my throat, and I turn my head, seeing Clay Collins
approach.
She glares at Megan. “You’re not our age,” Clay corrects her. Then she
picks up Megan’s clipboard and tosses it at her. “We’ll let you know when
it’s time to carry our shit onto the field this afternoon.”
I stay lying on the bench, not budging from my back as I watch her work,
almost amused as I take in her little power play.
Megan was a senior when we were juniors. An upperclassman. She’s also
one of our coaches. Does Clay take any of this into account before attacking?
Not even a little.
Megan hesitates for a moment, probably gauging whether or not it’s
worth it to even try to report Clay’s behavior. But in the end, she realizes,
like we all do, that Clay might be a spoiled brat, but she’s good at the long
game. It’s better to just hope this tantrum is the end of it, instead of enticing
further retaliation.
Megan leaves, her wet ponytail dangling behind her, but she spares a
glance back at me, a small, soft smile on her lips before she disappears
through the doors.
Then I turn my gaze to Clay.
“What the fuck are you smiling at?” she asks me. “Your team spots you.
Is that clear?”
I scoff as I sit up, grab my towel, and rise, meeting her eyes two inches
from my face. “I wouldn’t let you spot me a quarter for charity.”
She may be my team captain, but the bitch has never had my back.
Becks lets a laugh escape from behind Clay, Clay’s scowl hardening like
she just made a promise in her head.
But I don’t even blink as I slip around her and leave.
I know I should just lie low. Only four months left and all.
But as the home stretch shortens more every day, I care less and less.
Maybe I want to see if she has anything left up her sleeves.
I dare her.
I really do dare her.
• • •