Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

on them somewhere.
Her eyes hold mine, maybe waiting for a response or daring me for one,
but the light coming in from the stained-glass windows catches the coppery
glint of the strands in her dark hair, a lock hanging over her eye as the rest
spills around her shoulders. A dozen or so little braids decorate her hair, none
of the ends secured with rubber bands. She looks like a warrior girl in one of
those futuristic dystopian movies.
And all of a sudden, nothing is hot anymore. It’s just incredibly warm.
I squeeze my fingers tighter, the lines inked on the inside of my finger
making the four quarters of an inch on a ruler, very few ever notice the lines,
and those who do probably just assume I’ve leaked pen on myself.
Within that inch we are free. One inch.
“Clay?” she says, her tone different.
I don’t realize I’m staring off until I bring my eyes back into focus and
see the black of her Polo shirt. I lift my gaze, seeing a worried expression on
hers.
Her eyes shift to my hand on the pew in front of us, and I notice that it’s
shaking.
“You okay?” she asks.
I inhale hard, angry at myself. Why would I not be okay?
She grabs my backpack. “You need one of your little blue pills?”
But I snatch the pack out of her hands and glare at her. “If you let her
touch you,” I bite out, changing the subject. “She will live to regret it. I don’t
even have to leave this seat to ruin her life.”
Liv looks back at me, and I want to get closer—get in her face—because I
want a reaction.
“She won’t be able to take it,” I growl in a low voice. “I will keep going
until she can’t take it.”
I can ruin anyone’s life from my phone. It would be fun. And easy.
“You’re not embarrassing our team,” I finally tell her.
Megan was flirting yesterday. There’s no way in hell that’s happening.
She holds my gaze and then draws in a breath, another fucking air of
delight written all over her stupid, fucking face. “I don’t like women who
chase me anyway,” she says. “When I want them, they know.”
A tingle spreads up my spine, and when I expect to feel anger at her
boldness, something else comes over me instead.
When I want them, they know. How do they know? What does she do?