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“No, no. I only popped in to say hi. I can see you’re busy.” His eyes do the dance as he takes in our sprawled positions on my bed, not a study book open between us.
Dani jumps up and grabs her bag, shoving her folder and neglected textbooks roughly in the opening. “I have got a headache. I’ll see you both in the morning, kay?”
I wrestle up out of the bed and follow her through my bedroom door. “Hey, Dani, you okay?”
She turns to me and for a split second I see an expression I can’t read on her face. “Yeah, just a headache.”
“Okay, it’s just you didn’t mention a headache earlier.”
She shrugs, working the worn green carpet on the edge of the stairs with the tip of her trainer. “You know how it is.”
I pull the door of the bedroom tightly shut and turn to face her. “What’s wrong, Dani? Don’t you like him?”
“Seriously? Do I need to say it? For God’s sake, Amber, you met him like a week ago and now it’s like your life is never going to be the same again. One week and he’s changed you beyond recognition. The Amber I know would never be late for school, would never skip handing homework in. Have you even looked at your uni applications yet? It’s supposed to be sent in a matter of weeks, but you haven’t mentioned it for days. Before, you didn’t shut up about dorm rooms, courses, kitchens, the hot guys you would meet.”
“Shh.” I wave my hand at her.
“Oh my god. Are we not allowed to even talk about boys now?” She huffs. “Enjoy your evening, Amber.” And with that, she’s down the stairs and slamming out of the front door.
Mum comes into the hallway and looks up quizzically. I give her a shrug, hoping she won’t ask why my best friend and I have just had our first ever row. “Door open please if it’s just you and that boy.”That boy.
“Mum, for God’s sake.”
‘Amber, downstairs now.” Mum’s face creases into its habitual scowl and I trail slowly down the stairs.
“What’s wrong?” I look at my feet.
“I don’t like you and that boy being alone together.” She folds her arms across her chest. My eyes are drawn to the fact she has her dressing gown on. I don’t think I notice half the time. Has she even been dressed today?
“Nothing’s going to happen.”
“Good, make sure it doesn’t. I don’t want you making mistakes, Amber. You need to think about your future.”
Great it’s the ‘future’ chat, where mum tells me I’ve got to aim high, don’t let anyone distract me, and most importantly don’t let myself down. Keep to my plan.
“What sort of mistakes, Mum?” I keep my voice innocent.
Her returning stare is detrimental and a little wild. “You know what I mean. I’ll speak to your father; he will put a stop to this.”
I laugh outright. Like my dad would ever put a stop to anything. He spends his time brokering peace and trying to appease my mum so she doesn’t go off the deep-end. “Dad likes Freddy, he told me.” This isn’t strictly true but I’m going to run with it.
“Well, your dad is no judge of character.” She turns and heads back into the lounge where the tv announces Eastenders is about to start. My lecture has been cut short by a soap opera. “Door open, Amber.” She doesn’t turn back around with her warning, and I watch her retreating patchwork figure. What did she mean by dad not being a good judge of character?
I take the stairs two at a time and turn back into my room, making sure I softly shut the door. She won’t come up to check while her show is on. I force myself to meet Freddy’s gaze, even though I know he has heard everything that’s been said.
“I’m sorry, Amber French,” he says, patting the bed beside him. “I didn’t mean to ruin your evening.
I bounce on the bed and clamber over him until I’m straddled across his lap. Eastenders is half an hour long. I plan to make the best use of that time.
“Don’t worry about it,” I say, my voice pitching again into that tightened sensation of anticipation I get when I know I’m going to kiss him. And I do: the sweetest, slowest, most explorative kiss I can manage. My entire body hums with pleasure as I meld myself against him, and his arms wrap around me tight, just like they did in the snow only a week ago.
Eventually, and begrudgingly, I pull away. “Now that is most definitely.” I peck his lips again for good measure. “Not ruining my night.”
“No?” His hands slide along my spine. Strong fingers, fingers that do stuff, fix stuff. Damn, that’s so sexy.
“Definitely not,” I assure him again as I roll to the side and snuggle into the crook of his arm, entwining my legs with his long ones. It makes me giggle. “Your legs are double the length of mine,” I observe.
Freddy lifts his head and investigates. “I’m going to have to call you stumpy, Amber French.”
