Tryst Six Venom, page 16
I narrow my eyes. “What does that mean?”
She’s been there almost four years. She’s all of a sudden realizing she doesn’t fit?
She meets my eyes again, swallowing and sounding calm, her anger suddenly gone. “It means I don’t have anything to prove. I don’t know why I ever thought I did. Especially to you.”
Because…because what happened in the locker room wasn’t one-sided. She felt it, too. “Because you want to touch me,” I tell her.
She scoffs, tears glistening in her eyes. “Is that what this is about?” she inquires. “Don’t think what happened in the locker room was real, just because I kissed you back. I was angry and full of a lot of steam to blow off, and pretty much in fucking shock too, but I don’t want you, Clay.”
No?
“You’re like vanilla,” she says. “I mean, yeah, it’s ice cream, but it’s not really an option when there are other choices that taste better.”
She turns away, and I grab her, but instead of yanking away from me, she grabs me back and presses me into the tree, its bark digging into my back.
She glares.
“Don’t say that,” I whisper.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t…” I don’t know how to explain. “I can’t… I can’t…”
I don’t want you. I can’t want you. It’s just…
So I say the only thing that I do know for sure. “I can’t leave you alone,” I tell her.
That’s all I know. I need to feel it again.
My hair falls in my face, but I can smell the remnants of her watermelon lip gloss. “Ask me to touch you.”
Please. I want her to want me to touch her. I won’t force her like last time. Ask me.
But she just shakes her head slowly, and I don’t know what it means.
I place my hands on her waist. “Ask me.”
But just then, a low hiss pierces the air somewhere behind her, and we both freeze.
My pulse echoes in my ears, and I peer over her shoulder as she turns her head, both of us spotting a glowing pair of eyes low to the ground about ten yards away.
“Liv.”
“Shhh.”
She still holds me pressed to the tree, but both of us are too afraid to move. I resist the urge to push her behind me. Alligators can’t hear outside of water, but they have great night vision. I might not be Swamp, but any Floridian over three years of age knows the basics.
“Don’t leave me,” I beg.
She grew up out here. I don’t know what to do.
“When I say,” she tells me in a hushed tone, “run back to the path and follow it as fast as you can. They don’t move quickly outside of water, but there could be more. Don’t zig zag.”
“Huh?” Why?
But she doesn’t wait another second. “Run.”
“Liv!” I gasp, not ready.
She grabs my hand and we pound the mud, the reptile slithering into view, growling and hissing, and I can’t not look back. I scream, and Liv crashes into me, falling.
It advances, moving right for her, and she scurries back, trying to get up until it’s damn near snapping at her feet.
“Ah!” My lungs drop to my feet, and I cry out, grabbing her and hauling her up. “Oh my God.”
We run, stomping through the mud and jumping over fallen logs, and I take her hand, not letting her go until we reach the paved road, the streetlights shining overhead. I dart my eyes all around us, making sure we’re safe.
“Did it hurt you?” I ask.
But she just stares at me, breathing hard and sweat glistening on her brow.
I don’t know what I want to say. Thank you? Are you okay?
I’m sorry, maybe? I want to say I’m sorry for so many things, because I look like shit in her eyes.
“Touch me,” she says.
And my heart leaps into my throat. I hesitate, because I’m afraid she’s fucking with me, but then I seize the chance offered and take her face in my hands.
She doesn’t pull away as I hover over her mouth, every inch of me warm under my skin. She covers my hands with hers, and whispers, “Take care of yourself, Clay.”
“What?”
But I don’t have time to figure out what she means when she pulls away and casts one last, long look before spinning around and running back into the forest, toward her house.
I take a step. The alligator is in there.
But coming just around the corner is Callum’s car, and I only consider running after her for another second before he’s on me, Amy and Krisjen calling out and opening the back door for me to climb in.
Take care of yourself, Clay.
What does that mean?
I SCROLL THOUGH Liv’s Twitter and TikTok, not seeing any new posts since the day of Night Tide. Nothing since our showdown. Nothing about the flag or the picture of me on Macon’s bed that had made the rounds in our friends’ text messages.
I draw in a deep breath, uneasy. Something’s up. I mean, it’s totally like her to refuse to acknowledge me, but she hasn’t posted anything. Not even trading a barb with a politician or calling out injustice in the Sudan.
Nothing. Not even a response to anyone posting for her birthday today.
It is today. She’s eighteen now, still off limits as a student, but otherwise perfectly legal for Martelle.
I grab the flag out from under my bed and stuff it in my backpack. Leaving my bedroom, I head down the hallway, touching Henry’s door as I go, and racing down the stairs.
I pass a long table with three small glass vases of calla lilies and take the bunch out of one, swiping the water off the stems.
But then I hear my mom. “Clay?”
I pause, hearing the elliptical going from our home gym beyond the kitchen, and sigh.
I head over and peek my head inside, seeing the sun barely up out of the window behind her. It’s Monday, and we have team workouts this morning. Olivia should be there. I tuck the flowers behind my back.
“We’ll be coming to your game this weekend,” she says, sweat glistening across her chest in her pink sports bra.
“Both of you?”
She smiles. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
I cock an eyebrow, looking away. It’s an away game about an hour from here. I’m surprised he’ll be home.
“You used to like us coming to your games,” she tells me.
“A lot of things were different then.” I shift on my feet. “Now, I’d just like you both to stop pretending you’re married for the cameras.”
I might like it if they pretended for me a little bit, but hey.
She stops moving, the elliptical sinking to a resting position and her body along with it as she looks at me.
I keep going. “I think we can agree the façade is downright painful anymore, isn’t it?”
The pain in her eyes feels good, and I hate that it feels good. I used to love my mom.
I know she’s alone. She’s suffered, and this week is especially hard, but no one is safe from me, I guess. I’ve started bullying my parents now.
How could my father not be here for us? After all we’ve lost? And did she really get an abortion like Macon said? How did he know that? Was it my father’s baby? I don’t know how it could’ve been. He’s never home.
My parents have even less figured out about life than I do, it seems, and I can’t trust anyone. Even my grandmother. What pieces of work they all are.
She says nothing, and I turn and walk out before she has a chance to. Squeezing the stems in my hand, I climb into my Bronco and drive to school with them in my fist the whole time, racing toward the one thing I don’t want to hurt anymore.
The hallways are empty, only a few cars in the parking lot yet, and I look around me, making sure no one is here. A pencil hangs off a string of yarn next to the carpool signup on the bulletin board, and I snatch it off its staple, keeping the pencil on one end as I tie the other around the flower stems.
I stick the pencil through a slit in the vent of Liv’s locker, the yellow paint on the wood scraping off as I shove it through. Hanging from the inside, the little bouquet dangles down the outside of her locker, a few of the pretty white petals floating to the ground.
She probably doesn’t like flowers. She’ll probably think it’s a prank and rip them off and throw them away, but maybe she’ll think they’re nice, whoever they’re from.
Something for her birthday, because she didn’t get flowers or cards or candygrams like the rest of us on Valentine’s Day, and I’d hated seeing that.
I walk away, looking back at the bouquet, a flutter in my chest. Everyone likes flowers. Even girls in motorcycle jackets.
She should be here soon.
Heading into the locker room, I open my locker and hang my backpack. I dig my AirPods out of the pocket and take my phone. The Seminole flag peeks out. Liv will be working in the theater after school today. Maybe she’ll be alone. Maybe I could take it to her.
I take out my pill bottle and open it, wanting to calm myself down a little, but I stop, staring at the container for a second. I didn’t take any all weekend. Not once. Since Henry’s death, I certainly haven’t needed it every day, but it didn’t even occur to me. That’s weird.
“You okay?” Amy asks at my side.
I recap the bottle and stuff it in my backpack, quickly zipping it up. “Of course.” I close my locker. “You?”
“Still a little nervous.”
And I know what she’s talking about. She texted fifteen times yesterday. My grandmother gave me a stern look in church, so I muted it.
“They won’t report it,” I tell her. “And who knows? They might cross the tracks for a little more fun.”
“I’m not worried about them reporting it,” she retorts.
I know. The Jaegers would exact their own justice before going to the police. I still feel shitty about Callum and Milo trashing their house.
“Hey!” Krisjen chirps. She heads to her locker, rubbing a hand on my back. “How are you doing, babe?”
“Fine,” I blurt out. “What is it with you guys?”
Why do they keep asking that?
Amy and Krisjen exchange glances, and Krisjen broaches softly, “It’s just... I know this week is hard…on your family.”
I turn away, slipping my phone into the side pocket on my leggings. It’s been four years since Henry died, and I wait for the sting in my eyes to come like it always does the moment my mind wanders to him, but it’s not coming.
I’m distracted. It’s not… I don’t know. I miss him. I miss him so badly I’d give up my hands to have him back, but it’s not the only loss I’m feeling right now.
I glance around again, keeping an eye out for Liv, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
And as we all head into the gym, and I jump on the treadmill, she still doesn’t show. Where is she? Maybe she skipped for her birthday, but I feel uneasy.
I fit my earbuds in and pretend to start music as I stalk her social media, looking for a reason why she isn’t here. A dentist appointment. Suddenly sick. Self-care day.
Sudden death?
But nothing. She hasn’t posted all morning.
“Conroy?” Coach calls, walking into the weight room with a tablet. “Your time has come. I need you to take Jaeger’s position at midfield.”
Krisjen’s mouth falls open as she stops the treadmill. “You’re not serious.”
That’s Liv’s position.
I step forward. “What’s going on? Where is Jaeger playing now?”
Coomer turns her eyes on me, looking almost hesitant. “She’s…withdrawn from the team.”
“What?”
“Nothing’s wrong,” Coach assures. “Don’t worry.”
She starts to leave, but I jump off the treadmill, stopping her. “Hey, wait a minute. She just…she just quit? You’re joking.”
Coach turns and looks around at the three of us, other girls faltering in their workout to listen.
“She’s finishing the school year from home,” Coach announces.
My stomach drops. “What?” Like hell.
But Coach just looks at me, replying calmly, “Well, what did you expect, Clay?”
And I fall silent, because my behavior hasn’t escaped anyone’s notice, it seems. Coach looks like she’s surprised Olivia Jaeger lasted as long as she did, under the circumstances.
She leaves, her question hanging in the air, and Amy rushes to my side. “Oh my God.”
“She actually left school?” Krisjen joins in.
Amy’s eyes smile and a lump swells in my throat. I turn away, pretending to look at my phone. The world spins in front of me, static in my vision, and I’m going to scream if I don’t get out of here.
I don’t have anything to prove. I don’t know why I ever thought I did. Especially to you. This is what she meant when she told me to take care of myself. If it weren’t for me, she’d be here. She’d be happy.
So, she left. She let me win.
She just let me win. Just like that.
Amy and Krisjen talk, and I just stare at my phone, my thumb hovering over the screen and my head spinning in a million different directions, so much so that I don’t know what I’m doing.
The allure of her will be gone now. That’s good. Whatever my obsession was, she did me a favor. I can concentrate on other things: boys, friends, getting ready for the ball and prom and college…
It’s over.
“You get to play now!” Amy argues, and I snap my attention back to my friends. “Why are you whining?”
“I like my minimal position, thank you,” Krisjen says. “I can’t play Jaeger’s. Especially against Gibbon’s Cross.”
“Yeah,” Amy sighs, agreeing. “Jaeger was good for something, I guess.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, my chest tightening painfully. I can’t… I can’t.
I leave, whipping open the door and heading back into the locker room.
“Clay!” Amy shouts after me.
But I keep going.
I don’t have to get angry about this. I’m not a toddler. She’s leaving the team high and dry, but other than that, it’s no loss. I drove her out. I did what I set out to do. I win.
So why do I want to kick every door I see? I pass Megan in the locker room, expecting a dirty look, but once she sees my face, a slight smile graces hers.
She gets to have her now. No one will know.
Stripping off my clothes, I wrap a towel around myself and carry my caddie into a shower stall. Closing the curtain, I turn on the water, breathing in and out as I wet my hair and let the hot water soothe me. I close my eyes, my shoulders heavy and my head feeling like it weighs a hundred pounds. I just want to sit down.
I just want to—
But all of a sudden, the rings on the shower rod slide together again. I pop my eyes open, spin around, and see Liv stepping into the private stall with me. My heart leaps as she closes the curtain behind her and approaches me, holding her towel to her body.
For a moment, I’m flooded with relief. She’s here. She didn’t leave.
I find my voice, confident again and refusing to smile, even though I want to. “What the hell are you doing?” I whisper. “Get out. Now.”
I reach for my towel to cover myself, but in one swift movement, she pulls hers off of her body and knocks my hand away all in the same shot. I stare down at her naked body, and the wind leaves my lungs. My chest caves, and I barely notice her backing me into the wall as she tips her head back and wets her hair. Streams of water cascade down her golden skin, and I can’t breathe as it spills over her breasts and drips off the hard, little points. My clit pulses as I hate her all over again.
She meets my eyes, smoothing back her hair, and approaches me until her nipples brush mine. I can’t think, and I can’t swallow.
“Maybe these separate shower stalls your bigot mother had put in weren’t such a bad idea, after all,” she says.
I watch as she tips her head back, opens her mouth, and places it under the stream, filling it with water. The pulse between my legs pounds so hard, I almost groan.
She kisses me, opening her mouth, the warm water spilling inside and down my chin and neck, and I lick my lips, thirsty for more, because tasting what she tasted makes me go mad. I throb down low, my body beating like a drum. I whimper, about to fucking come when she pulls away.
My lip quivers, and I can’t find my words for a minute. “G—Get out,” I tell her.
But she doesn’t. Grabbing the showerhead off the hook, she sticks it between my legs, and I gasp, stopping just short of crying out.
“Ah,” I moan. I cup her face and hold her to me, almost in tears it feels so good. “Liv…”
The spray pulsates over me, and I’m already too close to stop it. I hold onto her, her forehead pressed into mine as she watches what she does to me, and my orgasm crests, so wound up it takes no time for her to get me there. Heat floods my stomach, my thighs shake, my knees go weak, and I hear voices and lockers slamming shut just as I cover my mouth with my hand and scream.
Fuck. I shake, and I don’t know if I’m crying or what, because it feels so good.
“You don’t feel with him what you feel with me,” she whispers. “Do you?”
I shudder and grip her, every muscle clenched, and I can’t stand it. Nothing feels like this. Nothing. “I hate you,” I murmur in her ear.
But still, I don’t let her go, grazing her skin with my lips.
Oh, God. She lets the orgasm run through me before placing the showerhead back on the hook, and then she leans into my ear, the showers around us filling with people. “It’s a shame you’ll be wasted on him,” she whispers, steam billowing around us. “We would’ve had so much fun.”
Would’ve.
I don’t look up as she takes her towel and leaves. I sink to the floor, unable to move another inch for minutes as everyone showers, dresses, and the first bell rings for class.
Would’ve had so much fun, she’d said. Would’ve.
When I finally come out, her locker hangs open and empty.
• • •
Over the next few days, word spreads that Olivia Jaeger is finishing the school year from home—some story about her family needing her, but almost everyone knows it’s because of me. Sideways glances greet me when I pass students in the hall or cafeteria, some with smiles of approval and some with hints of fear. Speculation is abundant on what I supposedly did to scare her off, but no one knows for sure.
