Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

tell her as I season two oysters. “My mom spoke to the salesman about our
new dining room table she had ordered from their gallery in New York. You
were moving around the store. Playing around. Plopping onto beds and
couches and faking passing out when your brothers would try to lift things
with you on top of them.”
She smiles, her head still leaning into her hand.
“The bay doors were open,” I go on. “Blowing loose locks from your
ponytail into your face, your white smile so big even from yards away. I
remember I couldn’t hear your laughter, but I could like…” My voice drops
to a whisper, remembering the moment I knew I was in love with her. “I
could feel it inside me.”
Her smile starts to fall as her breathing quickens.
“A bee caught scent of you and sent you into a panic,” I tease. “Which
was funny, because you don’t panic. Army put you in a headlock, trapping
you and making you squeal.”
“I think I remember that.”
It was a while ago. We knew each other by then, but I made sure she
didn’t see me. I didn’t want her to stop playing.
I stare off into the tray of oysters. “You all seemed so happy.” And then I
gaze across the table at her. “You were so pretty. I was dying for you even
then.”
It’s actually amazing the skirt still fits her.
I stare at her, both of us suffering a lot of loss in the past few years, and
both of us with our own hang-ups—me with my family and she with hers.
She might not want to carry this relationship to college, and I might not want
to go public and invite criticism for something that’s a fling, but I know
without a doubt that I will never hurt her again.
I jerk my chin at the oysters. “Eat one,” I tell her.
She picks a shell up, and I watch as she opens her mouth, tips her head
back, and swallows the mollusk, hot sauce running down the corner of her
mouth. She dips out her tongue and swipes it up, tossing the shell down and
licking her lips as she meets my eyes.
I groan inside, looking at her supple, soft lips.
I set the bottle in front of her, and she struggles to hold back her smile.
Uncapping the bottle, she tips it up and swallows, the plastic container
crinkling in her hand.
“Mmmm…” She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, the breeze