Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

me favors is painful.”
“Meet you at your house at seven,” Krisjen calls out, jumping into Amy’s
car.
I hear the engine start and the tires screech as Amy peels out of the
flooded parking lot. I slide the key into the lock on the door, slowly turning it
as Clay’s eyes set fire to my back.
“Leaving?”
Chills cascade down my arms.
“Pity,” she says. “You need the practice, too.”
Just get in the car, I tell myself. People like her hate to be ignored.
“But it’s always the shit talkers who don’t bring it anyway.” I hear a
shuffle, and her alarm chirps, signaling she’s locked her car. “I scored two
goals the last game. Not you.”
I open my door, almost smiling at her effort. She scored two goals,
because half the opposing team was down with strep throat and they were
playing their backup goalie.
And I ran my ass down the field and intercepted both those balls before
shooting them over to her so she could score. In four seasons, she’s never
known a win without me.
I stare at her back as she goes, the car key cutting into my palm so deep I
think it draws blood. Reaching inside the car, I grab my stick, slam the door,
and follow her. She’s gonna get a taste of what it’s like without me on her
side.
I match her step for step, the entire way back to the track, and I know she
knows I’m behind her, because she shoves her gear bag onto a bench with a
little extra oomph, psyching herself up without even looking back.
“We play the whole field,” she tells me, pulling her cleats out of her bag.
“Whoever scores three goals first, wins.”
“Lucky for you there’s no one to pass to.”
“You’ll see how well I can pass when I shoot the ball into the net.”
The corner of my mouth curls.
She props her foot onto the bench and slips one shoe on after the other,
turning her head.
Let’s see it, then. I push my hair over the top of my head again and start
walking onto the field.
“No gear?” she shouts.
“Scared?”