Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

promising more shitty weather to come.
I have no idea why I’m here. I’m not hip on showing up to this place
when I have to, let alone when I don’t.
Sticking the key back into my pocket, I dig out the other key, the one to
Dallas’s old Mustang that the jerk let me take today, and fall to a walk as I
head off the track and into the parking lot. He should just let me have the car.
It sits on the street, collecting rust most days, but he’s still under the
impression he’ll eventually have enough money to restore it.
“Clay, I’m not practicing in this!” someone yells.
I dart my eyes up, seeing Clay, Krisjen, and Amy in the parking lot. I
pause mid-step. Great.
I keep walking for my car, noticing Amy holding a raincoat over her head
and scowling. Clay pulls lacrosse gear out of the back of her baby blue, 1972
Ford Bronco convertible, seemingly unconcerned with the rain drenching her
black leggings and sports bra.
She doesn’t deserve that car.
“Let’s go to the indoor center,” Krisjen whines. “Please?”
“No, I wanna get dirty.” Clay closes the tailgate and drops her stick to the
ground, raindrops bouncing off the pavement around her bare feet.
“Clay, come on,” Amy snips. “It’s cold. And it’s Saturday. I want to go
shopping. I snagged my mom’s black card.”
I walk past them, not looking away when Clay sees me and holds my
eyes.
The knot in my stomach is there, as it always is when I anticipate bullshit
from her, but so is the skip in my heartbeat when I look at her.
I head to my car a couple spaces down, pulling my shirt over my head
and wringing it out.
“I love you,” Amy says, “but I’m just going to slip and break my ass out
there.”
“Get back here,” Clay demands.
“And don’t pull the captain card either,” Amy tells her, already walking
away, “I’ll see you tonight.”
She walks off, and I see Krisjen follow her, giving Clay a shrug. “She’s
got her mom’s black card.”
Like limitless shopping is too much of a temptation to resist, and the fact
that it’s fraud is completely lost on them.
“You leave me alone out here and you owe me,” Clay yells, “and owing