Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

I flex my jaw, watching as she says something to the teacher and then
leaves the room. I flip on the faucet, putting out the fire, and snarl at Ronald
to mind his own business.
Okay. So, she’s not going to forgive me quickly.
Fine.
But she will forgive me. She just really won’t like how far I’m willing to
go to force it.
I swipe Ronald’s test, ignoring his look, and erase his name, writing my
own. The first four questions are already done. Thanks, Ronny.
• • •
Callum stares into my eyes, swinging me around the dance floor and moving
like water. He’s perfect. His dark blond hair is swept up, off his forehead, and
hugs his ears. His flawless skin and bright smile. His hazel eyes and how he
rises several inches above me—in control, dominant, my protector.
Everything my family wants for me, but nothing about it feels right. If he
were Liv, I’d be pulling him in close. Wrapping my arms around him like a
steel band and reveling in the promise of his mouth.
I catch sight of us in the mirrors that cover three of the four walls,
windows covering the last one. We’re both still in our uniforms, his white
button-down untucked, and his tie loose, while my saddle shoes lie
underneath the row of chairs against the wall of the studio, the heels on my
feet required for our lesson.
“Bigger steps!” Ms. Broderick, the instructor, chants. “Keep your head
up!”
She walks around as the couples move. We’ve practiced the waltz for the
ball so much that there’s no way we can get it wrong now, and she should
just let us leave. I hate how he’s looking at me. Not leering so much as
challenging me. He knows something, and I’m waiting for the shoe to drop.
“I think you’d get tired of my shit,” I say as we spin.
“Keep your head left!” Broderick shouts for the millionth time.
I face left. “You can get from anyone what you’re hoping to get from
me.”
“Getting it isn’t the challenge,” he replies. “Getting it from you will be so
much sweeter.”
A spark lights up his eyes, the words coming off as more of a promise.