Page 31 of On My Side
I ignore her, pulling her across the lobby and into the back offices.
“Mo-om!” Piper whines, pulling her arm free. “You’re embarrassing me!”
“Piper. Sweetie. My darling baby girl. You cannot say shit like that about your mother and your teacher.”
She widens her eyes and slowly blinks them. I narrow mine and point at her. “Stop with the puppy dog eyes, you monster.”
“Why is it flirting when Luke and Lorelai do it, but not when you and Mr. Q do it?” she asks, sticking out her lower lip.
“Because… because…” Goddammit, this is what I get for forcing her to watchGilmore Girlswith me so often. “Because I said so!”
“Ah-ha!” Piper points her own finger in my face and I swat at it. “You promised you’d never use that as an excuse!”
“That was before you decided to be a little shit.”
“Hmph.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Sounds like bullshit. You told me when Luke and Lorelai talk like that to each other, they’re flirting. Why is it any different?”
Piper learns a lot about how social interactions work through media. We’ve spent her entire life pausing TV shows, movies, dog-earing books, and talking over commercials on the radio to talk about social interactions she didn’t understand. It makes sense she understands flirting through the lens of Luke and Lorelai.
Whatdoesn’tmake sense is her thinking Ren and I were flirting. Because that isn’t what we were doing. At all. I mean. Maybe I was flirting alittlewith him, but he certainly wasn’t flirting with me.
“I didn’t mean to come across as flirtatious,” I say slowly, making sure I get the words right. God knows she’ll remember if I don’t. “I’m sorry for confusing you.”
She shrugs. “Okay.”
“That’s it? No more interrogation?”
“Do youwantmore interrogation?”
“No,” I respond quickly. “No, I don’t.”
Piper steps around me. “Then you’re off the hook.” I exhale in relief too soon, because she glances over her shoulder at me with a smirk. “For now.”
“You’re treating this like a date!” Piper groans. She’s currently spread starfish on her back in the middle of my bed.
“I amnot,” I argue, pulling a black dress from my closet and examining it.
I’m lying. I totally am.
It’s been a week and a half since Piper accused me of flirting with Ren. I’ve wanted to make myself scarce the last two lessons, but I’m trying to keep a normal routine with both him and Piper, trying to pretend everything’s normal and I don’t know an extremely intimate detail about him. But since I can’t interact with this man like a normal, adult, human being, I’ve been giving him his coffee, commenting on how great Piper’s doing, and excusing myself under the guise of having to put out a fire somewhere in the inn.
Piper certainly doesn’t buy it, and if Ren also doesn’t, he’s kind enough to not say anything.
Ren texted me this morning offering to drive, using terms like “economical” and “environmentally friendly.” Personally, I think it’s a terrible idea for us to be in such close proximity for the thirty-ish minutes it takes to get to New Haven, but it would make me sound like such a terrible person to refuse his offer.
“Move,” Piper commands, elbowing me in the side. I yelp, jumping out of her way. When did she stand up? “You don’t get nights out, so you don’t know how to dress for a night out.”
Ouch, but fair judgment. No one roasts you like your teenager.
She throws an emerald green dress I wear once a year on St. Patrick’s Day at me. “This one.”
I hold it up and eye it skeptically. “You think?”
“It’ll compliment your hair,” Piper explains, bending down and rummaging through my dress shoes. “You’ll look like a pretty leprechaun.”
“I’m not certain looking like a leprechaun is quite the vibe I want.”
“You don’t know what you want, Mom,” she says, and again,ouch. She stands up with a gold kitten heel in each hand. “I’m making you pretty so you can flirt with a hot, rich Yale dad.”
