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I’ll be moving to a new city, and for the first time since second grade, I won’t be with her for her birthday. Sure, I can send her roses from a flower shop. But it’s not the same as seeing her in person and handing them to her. It’s the one time her fingers graze mine—and it’s a touch I look forward to every single year.
When I arrive in front of Amber’s apartment door, I knock. To my surprise, her mother answers the door…and to my surprise, she appears happy to see me. That’s new.
“Ford Remington! Off to the NHL! We are so proud of you,” she says, pulling me inside and closing the door.
Amber is standing behind her mom, looking bewildered. She spots the flowers I’m holding and gives me my favorite smile in the world. She scoots past her mom, her arms wide like she’s going to embrace me, and I find myself anticipating being enveloped in her arms. But she pauses, and something crosses her pretty face—I’m not sure what. But she drops her arms down, her fists squeezing at her sides. She’s holding herself back from touching me.
I swallow, hating how my throat feels thick and my face is hot. Amber knows I don’t avoid being touched by people, especially soft touches that can make my skin itch. Having someone tap on my shoulder or pat me on the back grates on me. It’s different from a hockey hit—a hockey hit is a powerful, full body experience. And there’s no skin-to-skin contact involved.
But she has to realize I’d love to be touched by her. Embraced by her. Kissed by her.
I don’t even mind when my parents hug me, really. She’s seen me hug them. So, does she not want to touch me? Or is she holding back, thinking I don’t want to touch her?
It seems absurd, but then people have told me before I’m not great at conveying my emotions. In a rare moment of confidence, I decide to reach for her. I make eye contact and hold my arms out. Amber smiles, looking hesitant, and moves toward me.
But her mother steps into my arms instead. What the hell?
“Oh, Fordy! Congratulations. You’re going to be one wealthy young man!” She giggles as she steps away.
Amber’s eyebrows scrunch. “Mom, Ford and I are going for a walk, okay?”
Her mother sweeps a clump of blonde hair-sprayed hair over her bony shoulder. “Of course.” She winks. “Take as much time as you need, Amber.”
Amber turns her back on her mom and rolls her eyes. I have no clue what that was all about.
The moment we’re out in the quiet hallway, Amber runs a hand through her red hair. It’s curled in loose waves today—she’s been experimenting with new looks. She’s always busy making things beautiful, wether it’s hair, makeup, or paint on a canvas.
I know she’ll do amazing at cosmetology school this fall. But I hate that her dreams are keeping her in Ohio and mine are taking me farther away from her.
“Sorry my mom is so over the top.” Her hand relaxes, one finger toying with a rose petal as we walk down the stairs of the apartment building and out into the balmy air. It’s twilight now, the summer air cooling down as the sun disappears beyond the horizon. The perfect temperature to be outside. But I wish it was colder so I’d have an excuse to put my around Amber’s shoulders.
Unfortunately, she seems perfectly comfortable in her cut-off shorts and pink tank top. I glance over to see if there’s even a single goosebump on her arm, but she hands me the bouquet of roses and uses the hair tie on her wrist to put up her hair. Her slim neck is exposed now, and I’m distracted by the skin there that looks so, so soft.
“Can I have my pretty flowers back now?” she asks, smiling at me.
I shake my head, willing myself out of my stupor. “Yeah, of course. I thought I’d bring you flowers now since I won’t be able to on your birthday.”
Her eyes droop, and the sadness there makes my heart flutter. That probably means I’m a jerk, but Amber being sad that I’m leaving means she likes having me around. And I really like being around her.
“Ford,” she says, stopping in front of me and looking up at me with those big green eyes. Eyes that are prettier than any gemstone I’ve ever seen. “I’m so proud of you. I know you’ve worked so hard. But I’m going to miss you like crazy.”
I hold her gaze, even though I want to look away, because it feels too personal to look into her eyes and have her look into mine. What if she looks too long and sees the way I feel about her? She’d never feel the same. Not about some loser who keeps a coin in his pocket, NHL or no.
“I’m going to miss you too, Ambs. But I don’t leave for another month. So we have time.”
Her eyes light up. “Really?” she brings a hand to her chest and breathes a sigh of relief, making me laugh. She does that a lot—makes me laugh. She makes my smiles and laughter come easy, like I do it all the time, which I don’t.
“We should make a list of things to do together before you leave.”
I huff a laugh through my nose. “You know, I’ll still see you. It’s only six hours away.”
“I know, I know.” She waves a hand in the air. “But six hours seems so far after we’ve lived just two blocks away from each other. And you’re going to meet all kinds of new friends, and girls…and you’ll forget all about me.” She smirks, and I know she’s teasing. But she doesn’t know how wrong she is.
“You’ll always be my best friend. No one understands me like you do. You’ll see.”
Amber laughs again, the sound swirling around me like fairy dust, filling all the cracks that seem to pry me open and make me feel like I’m broken somehow. Being around Amber Park makes me feel like I’m normal, whole, complete.
Every step closer to her feels like a step closer to safety.
