Page 12 of The B!tch List

Yep, it was ending up being a really good day. Shaw Jackson was practically sobbing into his fried chicken, and I had another insult for him to add to my list.

Nancy’s Bitch List for Shaw

Maximus Douchimus

Captain Shitsmear

Not in the best of moods after my dinner at Stars & Stripes, I didn’t feel any better when the smell of boy’s locker rooms and ass hit me as soon as I walked into the house.

“Damn it, Austen,” I called. “Can you please shower after soccer practice?”

Austen’s blond head appeared around the door from Dad’s office. We’d all used the space for homework and studying over the years.

“Hey. Mom said she and Dad have gone over to the ranch for cards night. They’ll be back around eleven.”

“So?”

My brother stepped out into the hallway, still in full soccer kit. Dark stains of grass and sweat dotted all over it.

“I think she was kinda warning me,” he shrugged, “like, ‘we’ll be back at eleven, Austen, so don’t let me catch any girls in your room.’.”

“You’ve had girls in your room?” I asked, shocked. “I’ve never had girls in my room.”

“That’s because you had them on Mom and Dad’s couch.” His whole body shuddered. “You could have scarred me for life you know. You definitely did Mom.”

I thought back to when I’d been caught with Austen’s babysitter and grinned. To be fair we hadn’t gotten to the sex part, but she had already come all over my fingers.

“Me and Patty didn’t actually have sex,” I offered, moving past him to go into the kitchen.

“So what?” he asked. “You’re telling me you’ve never had sex with a girl under this roof.”

As I reached for a glass and ran the faucet, I felt my little brother behind me – actually, I could smell him. I filled the glass with water and took a long drink before I answered.

“Didn’t say that,” I replied, breathless from drinking quickly. “Just said I haven’t had a girl in my room.”

“Well, if you didn’t have sex with Patty and you haven’t had a girl in your room, then where have you had sex in this house?”

I winked and took another sip of cool water.

“No fucking way,” Austen cried. “Please tell me you haven’t had your hairy balls rubbing against my sheets?” He gagged, snatched the glass from me and downed what was left. “You’ve butter milked on my sheets. That’s disgusting.” He paused and then slammed the empty glass against my chest. “That time when I had crusty sheets and you convinced me I’d had a wet dream, it was you, wasn’t it? You dirty bastard.”

He began to shake himself out, all the time retching.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” I sighed as I put the glass into the sink. “It was one time only. All the others were in Bronte’s bed.”

“Oh. My. Fucking. God.” He groaned, his eyes bulging. “That’s just weird. Letting her wax your dick is bad enough but having sex in her bed is just…nasty.”

“She did not wax myballs,” I protested. “She supervised and why is everyone so interested in my dick today?”

“Oh, believe me.” He grimaced and circled a finger in the area of my junk. “I have no interest in that at all. I’m only repeating what Mom told me.”

“Yeah, well I’m gonna kill her for telling you.”

“Yeah, well Mom knowing you get your balls waxed is even weirder than you actuallyhavingyour balls waxed.”

“Yeah, and that’s because Bronte has a big mouth.”

I looked him up and down and took in his athletic physique. In the space of a year and a half, he’d changed a lot. No longer the gangly kid who wore mismatched pajamas, over one summer he’d shot up by at least four inches and was still growing. His body had filled out and now instead of Transformer PJ’s he wore designer boxer briefs to bed, making sure they rested low enough for us all to see the V he was developing due to soccer and working out in the gym. Mom was right, this kid was having sex and a lot of it.

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