Page 44 of Feral Touch
Knowing why Ren had been so hurt, knowing that I'd inadvertently accused him of doing the same thing his parents did to him, I had to wonder: had Ren kept the details to himself for my sake, or was it because he didn't want his friends knowing why he was upset? How much had he told them about his past?
Before he'd left, Ren and I agreed on a time to meet up at his music company so we could get to work. He said he'd reserve one of the practice studios for us.
I hadn't been able to think about anything else for days. Sure, I could compose traditional cello pieces, but how in the world was I going to turn a rock song into a classical song? I'd never done anything like that before. I was worried about being a hindrance to Ren, that he would have to do all the work and I'd just be a useless lump sitting next to him.
I couldn't ask anybody, either, because I needed to keepmy part-time joba secret from my professors and fellow students. I didn't want the students to find out I was secretly working with a famous rock star—that would bring me all kinds of unwanted attention. Several of my professors had already made comments about my lack of focus lately; I didn't want them to know I was spending my evenings and weekends working on rock music instead of studying or practicing.
A week later I woke up to a text from Ren with a good morning message and a reminder about our first day of work. I looked up the address to his music company's office, which, of course, was downtown. I really should have taken up the flute as a kid.
I got out of the shower to see another message from Ren asking if I was up and ready. He certainly seemed eager.
I'll be out the door in fifteen minutes,I wrote back.
Ren was aware I lived far from the downtown core, so he would know not to expect me for another hour or more depending on how delayed the buses were.
“It's pretty early for a date,” Jen said with a grin. She was sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal and watching me get ready.
“It's not a date. We're going to be working.”
“Sure, sure.Working. Right.”
I ignored her sly tone and pulled on my jacket, grabbed my cello and opened the front door of my apartment, ready to leave.
Ren was standing just outside the door with his hand up, ready to knock. I immediately stepped through and closed the door behind me. I didn’t need Jen as an audience.
“What are you doing here?”
“We're carpooling.” He grinned and took my cello case from my hands, hefting it over his back with the strap like it was a guitar. I never used the strap. It was too heavy for me to carry. I mostly just wheeled it around.
“Carpooling?”
“I figured, why make you take public transit the whole way down when we could just go together?”
“Ren, you live five minutes from your music building.”
He shrugged. “I was in the neighborhood.”
I was going to protest, but I liked the idea of hitching a ride downtown. I was sick and tired of buses and subways.
I half expected some fancy limo, but there was a simple black taxi waiting for us downstairs. Ren carried my cello the whole way. When we settled into the taxi, Ren immediately took my hand. I melted a little inside. How could I have thought for one moment he was some asshole playboy?
“I just need to warn you that there might be an entourage of people waiting for us.”
“Entourage? Like, fans and stuff?”
Ren laughed. “No. It's the guys. They really wanted to meet you again.”
“Oh.” I shifted in my seat, uncomfortable. I'd only met Ren's friends for a few brief moments. How much did they know about me? How much had Ren told them? Despite all the rumors online, they seemed nice enough in person.
Nice isn't allowed in your vocabulary when talking about Feral Silence.
Natalie's words came back to me. Maybe I should try to think of another adjective to use. I wasn't sure sexy, arrogant, charming rock stars would appreciate being callednice, either.
I glanced down at the hand holding mine, Ren’s thumb absentmindedly brushing over the back of my hand. I was overtaken with a phantom memory of those fingers gliding over my bare skin, brushing over my nipples, penetrating me in one smooth motion.
I could think of a million adjectives to describe Ren.Nicedidn't even begin to come close anymore.
The drive was quick, even with rush hour traffic, which made me resent public transit even more. If I had the money, I would have bought a car.
