Tryst Six Venom

I chuckle. “The only thing any of us need is a little love…” I lean in, whispering, “from the right bottle.”

She laughs, and we both hop down from the float, leaving Amy to man it, while we join the girls in the last chorus of the dance.

My head floats a few feet above my neck, the ‘help’ we just drank giving me just the right buzz that I’d sweat off in twenty minutes, but enough to put a spring in my step.

I’m so late. This parade is taking so much longer than I’d hoped, and Lavinia’s will close soon. I dance faster as if that’ll speed up the vehicles in front of us.

Callum and Milo follow, Callum’s dark blonde hair blowing in the breeze as I step and tease him with my eyes. Little girls cheer us on, looking up at me like I’m something special, while a couple guys hover close together, staring at me and whispering between them.

I move in ways our facilitator will certainly hear about on Monday, but I don’t care. I rub in their face something they’ll never get.

Because even at twelve, strutting down a pageant stage in a bikini, I knew what my power was. There’s never been any confusion.

“We love you, Clay!” some of my classmates scream as I lead the group and finish the dance.

I close my eyes, soaking up all the phone cameras recording us and the pictures that would survive of Clay Collins long after I’m gone. Images that will show who I am far louder than I can ever say in words.

Homecoming Queen.

Prom Queen.

Omega Chi sweetheart, and something nice to look at.

That’s me.

I open my eyes, immediately seeing myself in the window of a parked car at the curb. I bring up my hand, pushing the lock of blonde hair back in place.

We all have to be something, I guess.

• • •

“Are you sure you have to go?” Krisjen says from the back seat of Callum’s Mustang. “Have you even slept the past twenty-four hours?”

I climb out of the passenger side seat, and shoot her a look as Milo sits next to her, hanging his arm around her.

I slept last night. Minus a couple hours to finish readying the float.

I close the door and lean on the convertible, meeting Callum’s blue eyes in the driver’s seat. “Get her home safe?” I ask.

God knows, Milo’s too dumb to do it.

“Maybe,” he taunts.

“Then maybe I’ll think about letting you take me to the lighthouse party.” I swing my bag over my shoulder and dig inside, pulling out a wipe to clean the sparkly Greek letters off my cheeks.

He sits there, that confident gleam in his eyes like everyone wants to be near him, and he’ll wait for me to realize that.

“Come here,” he says.

Slowly, I lean in, giving him ninety, so he only has to give me ten and still look like the man. He kisses me, coming in again and again, his wet tongue grazing my bottom lip before he pulls back.

Holding back, so I’ll beg for more.

“You were amazing tonight, babe,” Milo slurs, squeezing Krisjen. “You both were.”

I hold Callum’s eyes as I stand upright again. “Thank you for coming.”

“I think they liked it,” he says. “You dancing for me.”

Yeah, okay. I smile, backing away toward the dress shop.

He shifts the car into gear, takes off, and I spin around, wiping off my mouth.

I hate kissing. Wet and slobbery tongue like a damn slug flopping around my mouth.

I pull open the door to Lavinia’s on the Avenue and stroll in, tossing the wipe out on the sidewalk behind me.

The streets of St. Carmen still buzz with foot traffic, cafés, and local hot spots swarming with people enjoying a quiet night with friends al fresco. The parade ended more than an hour ago, and even though it took us that long to get our gear cleaned up and Amy’s father to get the float clear of the gridlock, I’m still not done for the day.

I walk into the boutique, gowns displayed on mannequins as I cross the white carpet and pass the reception desk, my mother sitting in the lounge area.

She spots me. “Talk tomorrow,” she says into her phone.

“I’m here now,” I tell her, knowing she’s going to whine.

“I’ve been waiting over an hour.” She rises from the white-cushioned, high-back chair and sticks her phone into her handbag. “Call next time.”

I chuckle under my breath as I keep walking and she follows. “Like I can control how fast the parade moves,” I mumble.

Her chunky gold and pearl bracelet jingles as she enters the dressing area behind me, and I set my bag down next to the chair near the floor-length mirrors. I glance at her in the reflection, noticing my gold necklace draped across her tanned chest, visible in her flowing, deep V-neck blouse.