Page 6 of On My Side (Quiblings #3)

Ren

Playlist: Doin' Time | Lana Del Ray

In. Out. In. Out. In. Out.

I keep my breath steady as my feet hit the sidewalk, my favorite classical playlist blaring in my ears. I can’t stop thinking about the events of yesterday: helping my sister’s ex try to win her back, finding out it worked, and seeing my childhood crush look at me like I was a threat.

Audrey Price. Or Hinton now, I guess. I hadn’t thought about her in a long time, but god, she was the love of my young life, and her mere presence distracted me whenever I practiced scales on the piano in our living room.

I was never distracted while practicing scales. My siblings used to make fun of me, saying I could be struck by lightning and not miss a single note. Something about the rote movement and predictability of scales almost put me in a trance, similar to how running makes me feel.

I run the same route every day, at the same time, and so do most people who are awake and out at this time.

I pass a group of the tamer moms, on their daily hot girl walk, as they call it, where they talk about whatever spicy romantasy book they’re currently reading.

I always wave to Mr. Moody as he walks Scooter, his rambunctious golden retriever puppy.

I nod politely at Father Gilligan when I pass him on his rosary walk, and I greet Derek, a waiter at Queenie’s, the diner in town, as he sweeps the outdoor stairs.

I immediately notice when someone I don’t see every day is sitting on the seawall and slow to a stop.

I also can’t recognize this person from fifty feet away.

As I walk closer, their head moves, and I think they’re looking at me.

Around ten feet away, the blurriness caused by not wearing my contacts clears, and I stop in my tracks as recognition sets in.

“Hi, Mr. Q.” Audrey Price…I mean Hinton…

is sitting criss-cross applesauce on the seawall, auburn hair piled on top of her head and a star-shaped pimple patch on her chin.

She wears round, wireframe glasses, and a Port Haven High School t-shirt with shorts that show me the pale skin of her thighs, and the faint, silver, stretch marks painted across them.

I clear my throat. “Ms. Hinton, hi.” Nailed it.

She uncrosses her legs and gets to her feet, not spilling a drop from either mug in her hands, but her glasses slip just slightly down her nose. “You… um. You can call me Audrey, if you’d like.”

God, she’d scamper away if she could hear how hard my heart is beating. My vital organs have zero chill around pretty women. Or men. But this seems excessive, even for me. “I think it’s more appropriate if I call you Ms. Hinton,” I say. “Or Mrs. Hinton.”

“I’m not married,” she clarifies, and we fall into another awkward silence.

Yesterday had been awkward as shit. I’d been having a great lesson with Piper, quickly learning how to best critique her and give feedback in a way she would respond positively to.

She waved to her mom and in walked Audrey, grown-up and fucking beautiful.

Long legs and bouncy hair and bright smile, and it felt like my world was closing in around me.

Now, Audrey and I stare uncomfortably at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first.

It isn’t going to be me.

Finally, she lifts one of the mugs she’s holding. “I brought you coffee.”

I blink at her in confusion. “Oh. Uh, thanks?”

“It’s cold now.”

We continue to stare at each other.

“This is weird,” I tell her.

“Very,” she agrees, holding out the mug to me. It has a T-Rex holding a grabber tool in each hand, the words “what now bitch” above the image, and dammit. It makes me chuckle.

Her silvery gray eyes brighten. “Funny, right? Mother’s Day gift from Piper this year.”

My heart flutters a smidge. That’s cute as hell. I take the coffee from her, surprised when the mug is still slightly warm, probably from the sun beating down.

“I remembered you’re lactose intolerant, so I used oat milk,” Audrey continues.

How the hell did she remember I’m lactose intolerant? I don’t remember I’m lactose intolerant most days.

I stare at her and lift the mug to my mouth. I’m drinking cold coffee with the woman my nine-year-old self was certain he was going to marry. After running ten miles. There really is a first time for everything.

“Do you wanna walk?” she asks, motioning her head towards the direction I was running in.

I nod, and we begin to move.

“I want to apologize for yesterday,” she says after a few moments of silence. “I freaked out and probably freaked you out, and I’m sorry.”

“So you decided to interrupt my run?” I try to say it teasingly, hell, maybe even flirtatiously, but she winces.

“I know it’s probably another thing I should apologize for, but I’m impatient, and I couldn’t sleep last night because I felt ashamed of how I’d acted and…I’m so sorry, Ren. Mr. Q. Whatever…”

I stop walking, but she doesn’t notice and continues to walk.

I watch in amusement as she continues to ramble about how bad she feels for about thirty seconds before realizing I’m no longer in step beside her.

The stunned expression on her face as she turns around makes me laugh again.

At my laughter, Audrey’s face reddens, and she bites her lower lip. God, even prettier than I remembered.

She shuffles back to me, an exaggerated scowl on her face. “Wow, way to prove you’re still the same dweeb you always were.”

Way to prove I’m still wondering what your lips would feel like against mine.

If I were still a practicing Catholic, I’d need to go to confession and recite a few Hail Marys to be absolved of lusting over her.

“Sorry,” I say. “But I think my weird behavior makes up for yours yesterday. You have to stop feeling guilty, or else I do too.”

She blushes again, and I want to trace the color with my thumb. I want to find out if her skin heats when she blushes like that, if she’d lean into my palm and let me find out what else makes her blush. Where else she blushes.

“That’s oddly sweet. I think,” she says.

I shrug. “I’ll take it.”

She takes a deep breath, and averts her eyes to her mug.

She’s staring into the coffee like it holds the secrets of the universe.

“I still want you to teach Piper. If… if you want to. I’ll stay away and won’t bother you again, but she was so happy during your lesson and I don’t want to hold her back… ”

“Parents are welcome to attend class whenever they want,” I interrupt. “If any teacher tells you otherwise, that’s shady as hell.”

She bites her lip again, and I want to get to my knees and beg her not to do that if I don’t get to bite it, too. “I just want you to know that if you don’t want to interact with me, I completely understand. This is for Piper, and I’ll do anything I can for that damn kid.”

“If you’re okay with it, I’m happy to continue teaching her, and you’ll have an open invitation. I think Piper would appreciate that, too. She talks about you like you hung the moon. Kind of like how you talk about her.”

She smiles into her coffee. “She’s the best mistake I ever made. I can’t even see it as a mistake anymore,” she says softly. “She’s too amazing.”

I want to ask her more about what happened all those years ago, but I know that’s too personal a question to ask. “She is,” I agree instead. “She’s talented as hell, too. I was shocked when she told me she’d never had any formal training.”

She straightens her back and looks at me. “That’s why I think this is important to do now. She wants to be a professional musician, and she wants guidance. How much do you charge per class?”

I stare at her. “No.”

She blinks at me. She’d always been tall and elegant, and while her body is softer, fewer sharp angles and lines, she’s still taller than any of my sisters. I’m six feet two, and she’s probably around five feet ten. “What do you mean no ?”

“Audrey, I can’t charge you for piano lessons. You’re you .”

She averts her eyes. “That doesn’t mean anything. How much is your regular rate?”

I wince and tell her my hourly rate. She doesn’t answer and instead stares silently out at the water.

On clear days, you can see Long Island across the sound.

When we were kids, my siblings and I would always wave to our Nonna and Nonno, too young to understand they most definitely could not see us.

We’ve stopped walking, and she’s covered in the golds and oranges and pinks of the newly-risen sun.

“Oh,” she finally says, fingers anxiously tapping the side of the mug.

It’s a lot of money, I know this. But it’s a pretty standard rate for a teacher of my expertise in the area.

“I don’t want to charge you.” She turns to me and opens her mouth to argue. I’m filled with the urge to kiss her to keep her from doing that, but speak over her instead.

“I wasn’t going to teach classes this summer.

I used to love it, but parents kind of suck, and they took the enjoyment I used to get from teaching kids one-on-one.

But I really like Piper and want to work with her, and I don’t think you’ll make my existence miserable.

If you promise to not tell anyone we’re doing this so no one else asks me to do it, that’s worth more than any payment. ”

“Are you sure?” she asks, voice barely louder than a whisper. “I don’t want us to be a charity case.”

“You wouldn’t be. You’d be helping me more than I’d be helping you.”

I can’t help it. I watch her neck as she swallows. Fuck. It’s a great neck. The perfect size to cup with my hand and…

“Thank you.” I’m forced out of my horny stupor by her quiet thanks. “This is kind of you, much kinder than I deserve.”

My stomach twists at her self-deprecating comment. Instead of arguing, I lift the mug to my lips again. Her eyes follow the movement, and it makes my cock twitch.

I need to chill .

“Is the coffee okay?”

It’s gone cold. It’s fine, but she doesn’t need to know. “It’s perfect,” I assure her. “Thank you for making it.”

She beams, her entire face brightening and back straightening. “It was the least I could do since I was interrupting your run.”

“Can I have your number? So you don’t have to go through the trouble of waking up early and bringing me coffee when we need to talk?

” I’m damn anxious asking her this. We have a professional relationship, so it makes sense we’d have each other’s numbers.

But I still feel like a stuttering highschooler asking his crush to prom.

“Oh!” Audrey stops walking and pulls her phone out, holding it in front of her face to unlock it. “Why don’t you send yourself a text?” she suggests, holding her phone out to me.

I freeze as our fingers brush, feeling like I touched a live wire instead of another human’s hand.

Her breath hitches and eyes widen, and I want to ask if she felt it, too.

Instead, I type my number into her phone and text myself before handing it back. I avert my eyes as she puts it back, hoping to hide my feelings.

“I, um, I think I’m going to finish my cooldown,” I say, staring over her shoulder.

“Ren.” My head snaps up, and our eyes meet.

“Yeah?” I breathe, heart pounding harder in my chest than when I had been running.

“Thank you,” she says. It feels like my soul is visible through my eyes, and she’s searching it to see if I’m safe, if she can trust me.

“You’re welcome,” I say earnestly. “I’m happy to do it. And here, I can’t steal your favorite mug.”

She smiles softly, taking the mug from me before walking towards the inn.

My heart is caught in my throat, like it’s blocking breath and intelligent words.

I don’t experience this heavy lust often, if ever.

I felt it for Taylor after we were together for a while and for a few friends turned friends with benefits.

But there’s something about Audrey’s softness, her vulnerability, that has me wanting to chase after her and ask her to stay and continue walking with me.

But she still sees me as Kat’s little brother, and I don’t want to ever get close to a parent. So, I turn around and finish my cooldown. I don’t turn my music back on, as my mind is occupied with soft smiles and auburn waves, stormy gray eyes and fidgeting hands.