Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

into the trash can as I move ahead, down the center aisle, and toward the
elliptical.
“¿Cual es son tu pasa…tiempos?” I mumble to myself, feeling eyes on
me, but I refuse to look. “¿Tiempos?”
I jump on the machine, purposely not making eye contact with anyone,
other than to check Becks and watch her pick up some baby weights in front
of the mirrors, only actually completely three or four reps before she takes a
selfie or starts talking to someone. She’s gotten messed with on account of
me from time to time, and I like to make sure I know when that’s happening.
She would be a good friend, if we had anything in common.
For now, we enjoy a camaraderie—the types of friends who navigate
toward each other when our real friends aren’t around. When there’s a party
and we need someone to talk to. Or someone to eat lunch with.
We don’t call each other or text, but I’m glad I have her and a few likeminded
individuals who make this place a little more bearable. Becks has
money, but she doesn’t use it as a shield to fling mud like Clay Collins and
her friends.
After thirty minutes of cardio and moving through three more Spanish
lessons, I walk over to a weight machine, adjust the notch for forty pounds,
and pull down the bar behind me, working my shoulders.
“It’s not hot yet,” I hear someone say behind me. “But it will be.”
I tap my earbuds, trying to initiate the next lesson. Did it pause? No
sound comes through.
“None of those dresses are hot,” Krisjen Conroy says. “I would’ve burned
mine if it wasn’t an heirloom.”
“Heirloom or not, I’ll burn the damn thing before Gigi Collins tries to
force it on my daughter someday.”
Clay. And that awful debutante gown I’d love to burn for her, but it was
ever-so-amusing to see her trussed up in it last night.
“Is Callum escorting you?” Amy Chandler asks her.
“Someone has to.”
I shake my head a little, like that will drown out their voices, tapping my
earbuds again. What the hell?
“Come on,” Krisjen says. “He likes you.”
“And you’re about to go off to college,” Amy pants as she runs. “Live it
up.”
I tighten my fists around the bar, my arms wide as I bring it down slowly