Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

“Right.” I put my practice clothes in my duffel bag to take home and
wash. “You’re from Texas. How are you liking it here?”
She shrugs, her navy-blue Marymount sweater vest not something we
really wear anymore, but I like her retro style. “Still getting used to it.”
“Yeah, I know people in Texas are maniacal.”
“Maniacal?” she broaches. “About what?”
I pull out my pencil bag. “About being Texan.”
She smiles big and nods. “Can’t argue there. Texan first. American
second.”
She doesn’t sound southern, though, so she’s definitely from the city. A
bigger city than St. Carmen probably.
I close my locker and finally meet her eyes, seeing her watch me. I
straighten, not sure if I’m imagining a signal or not. I look around for Liv.
“Anyway,” she finally goes on, “I just wanted to introduce myself. And
see if you need a study partner? Maybe some help with derivatives and
integration?”
A study partner? Are those still a thing since Google?
She laughs. “Okay, I need help with derivatives and integration.”
Ah. “Well, I’m no genius,” I add, “but two heads are better than one, I
guess.”
But time with a new friend means time I won’t have with Liv, and I can’t
do that right now.
I search my brain for an excuse to get out of it, but then I catch sight of
Liv approaching behind Chloe.
She stops at my side, her hair in the two French braids I did this morning.
She leans her shoulder into the lockers and pins Chloe with a look. “Excuse
us.”
Her words are flat, commanding, and void of patience, and I bite back my
smile even as a flush rises up to my cheeks.
Chloe’s eyes flash to me and then to Liv again, and I turn, spinning the
dial on my locker. Awkward.
“See you around,” I hear her say, and when I turn around again, she’s
gone.
Facing Liv, I give her a scolding look, but I’m sure she can see my
amusement. “She was just saying hi.”
“She can wave.”
And that look and tone—possessive and jealous and all for me—sets me