Page 9 of On My Side
“You’re going to let me hang out alone with a stranger neither of us have ever met before?”
Shit.
“Right,” I mutter, a headache coming on. I put my glasses back on before roughly rubbing my temples. “That’s…right. An obvious thing I should not do.”
“I mean. There’s gonna be people in the lobby, and I know I can bother the front desk staff if I feel uncomfy.”
“That should be fine,” I agree, wrestling with the guilt rising in my belly. I make sure she knows she overrides everything else, because my parents never did. I won’t allow my daughter to know anything other than a parent who loves her and puts her above any optics. “Sounds like you have a cool as shit mom who ingrained that in you.”
“Try annoying as shit,” my precious daughter mutters. She gets to her feet, gathering her bowl and spoon. “I’m going to head over to fuck around on the piano.”
“Sounds good.” I take a sip of coffee and as she puts the dishes in the dishwasher, I have a thought. I hurriedly swallow, the hot liquid scorching my throat. “Wait, maybe don’t say fuckin front of your new teacher. At least on the first day. I don’t want another repeat of the conversation I had to have with Mx. Asher.” I look at her pointedly, reminding her of the call I’d gotten from her English teacher right before Thanksgiving.
“Holden Caulfieldisfucking obnoxious, though!” she whines.
“You’re absolutely right. But keep in mind some adults find teenagers cursing to be fucking obnoxious. And remember your poor mom has enough going on.” I stick out my lower lip, giving her a pathetic puppy dog pout.
“I’ll do my best,” she grumbles, shuffling toward the front door. “No promises I’ll be perfect.”
“Love you, birdie.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I love you, too. Doesn’t mean you’re not annoying, though.”
I chuckle as the door closes behind her, and pick up my phone from the table. I have time to kill, and I decide to make the most of it with self-care with my favorite guy. I know exactly what audio I want, the one he posted around Christmas that’s childhood friends to lovers with soft, slow missionary under the glow of the lights on the tree.
Either that one, or the one he posted last month with impact play and degradation.
I contain multitudes.
When I open 4Play, I’m surprised to see a brand new audio from Sky. He does this sometimes, surprise drops an audio. I scan the tags: mutual masturbation, roommates, dirty talk, consent checks, praise…
I’m pulling my robe off and heading to my room before I even finish reading, or before starting a load of laundry.
When I get to the inn, I hear them before I see them. It’s a beautiful day, the sunshine brightening the dark wood of the furniture through the bay windows. Most guests are at the beach, so the lobby is relatively empty except for my staff, Piper and the man sitting next to her.
She’s playing a piece I’m unfamiliar with, and I can tell he’s paying close attention to her, taking her seriously. It makes my heart swell. Since Piper’s autism diagnosis, I’ve seen people handle her like she’s fragile. My Piper is anything but fragile. Her autism doesn’t make her any more breakable than anyone else. This seems to be a common misconception, even among caregivers and professionals.
I’m brought back to the present by piano keys clanging loudly.
“Isuck,” Piper groans, loud enough for one of my managers to glance up from the front desk.
“You don’t suck,” the man next to her reassures. “You’re better than I was at your age, and you’re learning and doing your best. That’s the opposite of sucking.”
I grin, pleased at how he’s interacting with her, how he’s treating her.
“I don’t want to learn,” Piper whines. “I want toknow.”
The man laughs, a bright, bold sound that warms me from the inside out. This laugh feels familiar, comforting, like a hot shower after a hard day at work. Like hot chocolate and your favorite blanket after being out in the snow. “Don’t we all? Knowing is constantly learning, so you’re on the right track.”
My daughter groans again and rests her forehead on the piano keys, the random combination of notes echoing in the lobby. “God, you’resucha teacher.”
There’s that laugh again, and this time, I’m disconcerted how safe this stranger’s laugh feels. How if this stranger laughed during a conversation with me, I’d tell him my deepest darkest secrets. Hell, maybe I’d even give him a set of keys to the cottage.
Piper turns her head, eyes meeting mine. Her face lights up, and she waves. “Mom!”
The man next to her looks over his shoulder and oh my god, he has the most beautiful green eyes I’ve ever seen. Fair skin with faint freckles across the bridge of his nose and dark wavy hair that’s falling into his eyes. Not only does hesoundsafe, helookssafe. Hot as hell, too. He’s the generically attractive man I picture when listening to Sky.
I avert my eyes, attempting to avoid his gaze, but I can feel his eyes on me as I straighten my back and stride fearlessly across the lobby.
