Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

But then I remember, I blocked her number. It’s not her.
And then it occurs to me… Ms. Lambert.
My heart kicking up speed, I answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Olivia?” Lambert says. “Hi, it’s Jane. I need you to come in now.”
My stomach sinks just as an electric charge warms my blood—dread and
euphoria hitting me at the same time.
“On my way,” I almost whisper and then hang up.
He did it. I’m on stage tonight.
I’m playing Mercutio.
A text rolls in, and I look down, reading.
Congratulations. I can’t wait to see your performance.
And my mouth goes dry, Callum’s double meaning of ‘performance’
hitting me like a steel rod to the kneecaps.
• • •
“I wanted to thank you,” a voice says to my right.
I look up, seeing Lizbeth, our Juliet.
She steps forward. “I was so over the old costumes,” she says. “Every
little girl wants to be Juliet with her romantic hairstyle and princess dress,
but…you know.”
“Shit changes.”
She breathes out a laugh. “Yeah, exactly.”
We stand backstage, a whirl of activity up and down the hallway as
people rush to get their makeup on, repair last-minute tears or lost buttons,
and pace back and forth, practicing their lines. I lean against the wall, trying
to get my head straight. Trying to push Callum and Clay to the wayside for
the next two hours, because this is my time. I’ve begged for this for four
years, and I’m not going to let them take it.
Lizbeth’s gaze falls down my body, taking in my gothic, black coat and
black leather pants and boots. “Now I’m kind of wishing I was Mercutio.”
“Yeah, me too.” My heart won’t stop racing, and I feel sick. I can’t seem
to channel him all of a sudden. God, I’m nervous.
She smiles, much cooler than me, but she’s been on stage several times
before. I need to do this no matter how much I’m dreading it, though. How