Tryst Six Venom by Penelope Douglas

He bats his eyelashes, and I let out a quiet sigh. If I don’t do his sheets,
they won’t get done. And why do I care? No idea.
“Don’t make me touch your sheets,” I plead.
But he just blinks up at me. “Coffee first,” he says. “Coffee will help you
feel better about it.”
Whatever. I storm off, knowing I’ll do it and knowing that he knows I’ll
do it.
I’m allowed to pout for a little while, though. If our parents were here, I
might not feel obligated to give in to him, but Trace wasn’t much older than
me when we were orphaned. He thinks a woman will fill that void that not
having a mom has left in him.
I step into the kitchen, the chipped blue and pink stucco walls shining
with the light coming from the rusted old chandelier over the kitchen table.
The shutters over the sink spread open, the white grate keeping out intruders,
but letting in the smell and sound of the rain.
Macon leans against the stove, grease stains on his gray T-shirt and the
leather peeling on the front of his steel-toe boots. He dries his hands and
tightens the thin, leather strap, identical to mine, around his wrist.
I walk for the Moka Pot. “Morning.”
“It’s almost noon.” I hear him sip his coffee. “You’d never know I have
five siblings with all the shit you all make me do around here by myself.”
I hood my eyes, bracing myself as I pull the coffee beans out of the
cabinet.
It’s not noon. It’s barely ten, and it’s Saturday. “Coffee first, please,” I
say.
He’s in a mood, probably been up since five a.m. and had time to self-talk
himself into a nice little tizzy that we were the most ungrateful lot. Macon
needs sex. Lots of it.
I pick up the pot but feel it’s already full. Ugh, thank you. He brewed
another pot.
I pour myself a cup and walk to the table, taking a seat opposite him. “I
was at school late,” I tell him, taking my first sip. “I guess the last few
months of senior year aren’t for relaxing after all.”
“No, not for relaxing,” Macon says, “any more than it’s necessary to
apply to Dartmouth when you’re already going to Florida State.”
I shoot my eyes up.
He reaches over the table, to the stack of bills waiting to be paid in the