Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

chosen to see sheep instead of sleeping lions.
Amy will be a lion. Like us. She just needs to wake up.
Clay holds my stare, finally rolling her eyes, because she doesn’t give a
shit about convincing Amy of anything, but she does whatever I say.
We have that in common.
She looks down at Amy, who keeps her eyes lowered like she doesn’t
know we’re right here. “So, are you…getting ready at home tonight?”
After a moment, Amy nods
“By yourself?” Clay asks.
Another nod.
Clay’s eyes flash to me, and we both look at Amy, who still hasn’t met
her eyes.
“Oh, for crying out loud,” Clay says, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Just bring your stylist. Margaritas kick off in fifty-nine minutes.”
Amy shoots her eyes up, excitement and a smile on her face. She looks
between Clay and me, the disdain I used to see there now gone.
“Thanks,” she says.
I have no idea if we can trust her, but I guess we’ll find out.
I pull Clay along, our duffels hanging crossbody, as I rush us to my bike
and hand over her helmet. Taking mine, I pull it over my head and climb on,
Clay straddling behind me and wrapping her arms around my body.
“Shower,” she whispers against my neck.
Shivers hit me, and I kick the bike into gear extra hard, speeding off.
I take us to her house, usually loving the feel of her too much to rush, but
we’re busy tonight, and I want her to myself before everyone gets here.
My dress is already in the living room, as well as some vanities set up for
makeup and hair, and I can hear Clay’s mom chattering away on the phone,
her earpiece hanging in her ear, as we run into the house
“Girls, slow down!” Gigi shouts as we race for the stairs. “You’re all
muddy!”
We kick off shoes on the marble floor. “Sorry, Mom!” Clay says, taking
my hand.
Clay’s mom holds a tray of beautiful, white frosting-covered little cakes
with pink flowers decorated on the top.
I reach out to take one but stop myself. “I need to fit into my dress.”
Gigi leans in. “Take it from me: Eat the cake.”
Well, if she’s going to twist my arm about it. I pluck a fancy little