Page 12 of The Bitterness of Venom

I’m an asshole, I’ll own that, but I am different with my team. They’re the family I always wanted and needed. I’m as human as I can be with them. So, the fact that they won’t look me in the eye this morning is unsettling. Especially since it’s my turn to lead us to victory this year. Last year we were so close to the Frozen Four championship, but it’s like we choked at the last second. No matter how hard we played,cheered each other on, we kept making mistake after mistake. Couldn’t make a goal to save our lives.

I shake the thought before it takes over my mind and clouds my eyes with anger.

Hockey is the only thing I care about anymore. It’s been that way since that fateful day she left. We are in control of our actions, but when it comes to my downfalls, it’sherfault. She’s the reason I’m so cold and calloused. Why I hit ’em and quit ’em. I’ve never had a serious relationship, never been with anyone more than a couple times. And the concept of love is so fucking ridiculous, I don’t even entertain it.

As we come to the end of our run, we slow down into a light jog. The guys and I reach the water fountain. Hands on our hips, breathing hard through our noses. “All right, I’ll see you at practice. Good run today.” Stephen, our team caption, smiles and waves us off.

There are some mumbles and head nods as everyone walks to their cars or rides. I grab Jasper’s arm, spinning him around with more force than I should. “We got a problem?”

He jerks his arm from me, a mock smile on his lips. “I don’t know. Do we? What the fuck was that last night?”

I grit my teeth. “That was none of your business.”

He shakes his head, his laugh coated in malice. “It might be if she’s going to be my girl.”

His girl.This feeling in my chest may be anger, or jealousy, but I’m definitely not going to analyze it.

I smirk. “Your girl, huh? Is that why she was crawling to me last night?”

His eyes harden. “I’m not sure what you have over her, but I plan to find out. Stay away from Blaise.”

I can’t keep the amusement from my voice. “She wants to be my little slut, just like all the girls on campus. Go play in your league.” I lean in close to him. “And stay the fuck out of mine.”

I glare at his retreating back. My relationship with Jasperhas always been rocky since we started freshman year, everything a competition. He’s grown to resent me even if he doesn’t acknowledge that fact. But if he thinks he has a chance with my latest plaything, he’s going to be so heartbroken when he learns the hard way that she’s off-limits.

SEVEN

I dragmyself into After Hours, the bar I now work at. It reminds me a little of Hooters with the uniform they make us wear. The spandex royal blue shorts and white skintight top with bold yellow writing across the chest. Inside, the college’s jerseys and pictures hang on the wall, accompanied by large, flat-screen TVs. I sling my purse under the bartop after clocking in, then pin my hair up with a claw clip and practice smiling a couple of times in the mirror.

It’s a Monday, so it will be a slow day.Hopefully.

This is not my first time working in a bar, especially a sports one, but they’re all the same. Same crowd, same half-price beers and disgusting house shots no one wants unless they’re already too drunk. I tie an apron around my waist, popping the cash register open and counting the money inside. I had a little training a couple of days ago, so I’m not clueless as to what to do tonight. I didn’t think they’d put me out front by myself on the first night, though.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes.” The gruff voice comes from the left of me.

I don’t even look up to the man who probably smokes three packs a day. “Sir, I give sore eyes, better watch it.”

He laughs, the pitiful sound ending in a cough. “Feisty too.”

“Leave the new girl alone,” says another voice. This one probably only smoking a pack a day. “You’ll scare her away.”

I look up, raising my eyebrows at the two dirty-looking old men. They look like blue-collar workers who should have retired years ago. “Going to take more than two old fools to scare me off.”

The newcomer laughs. His name is Bill, or that’s what it says on the name tag of his blue-and-gray striped shirt. His deep brown eyes glitter, laugh lines deep as he smiles at me. The light glinting off his white hair. “How do you expect to get tips with that attitude?”

I shrug. “Some men like mean women.”

Rowdy, who I learn is the name of the other guy, hoots. His hair is salt-and-pepper, not as many laugh lines on his weathered, tan skin. And his green eyes hold mischief. “I know I do.” He bumps into Bill’s shoulder and they both grin up at me.

It might be a slow day, but these two are going to give me hell. I can just feel it.

My shiftat the bar ends at ten. My body aches as I drag myself up the stairs of the apartment. Community college was cake compared to this Ivy League one. The course load is heavy, and the classes are hard with zero room for mistakes. It was day one and I already need to study for a test on Friday.

I knew my dream profession of becoming a therapist wouldn’t come easy and I’m prepared for that, but I didn’t think I would be this tired on the first day.

But I think about all the people I’ll help someday and that somewhat makes it better. My goal is to one day own a business that caters to hoarders. Have a cleaning crew, a couple of therapists that can go on-site and help the process of getting rid of things that they don’t necessarily need.

It’s a weird profession, I’m the first to admit that. But maybe if you knew the details of my life when I was younger, you would understand. My mom loved to collect things, it didn’t matter what it was, how disgusting or old, she collected it. It didn’t matter if she had fifteen just like it, one more wouldn’t hurt anything, or so she thought. She had certain rooms in the house stacked floor to ceiling with things, the kitchen included. I was surprised the living room was as decluttered as it was, but I believe that had everything to do with my father and the television programs he’d watch daily. My room stayed clean. I couldn’t think straight if my things were out of place. My parents… I’m not sure if they were bad people or if they just let the drugs overrun their lives, but I was pretty invisible to them sixty percent of the time. If school wasn’t a way for them to get rid of me for eight hours a day, I’m not sure they would have even bothered enrolling me. My mom had her good days. Days she was high and manic and would actually pay attention to me, but when she’d come down after a few days…

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