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I know him calling me by my full name all the time should be irritating, but it isn’t. I love it. Amber French; that’s me. I never got it before. It’s my name, and no one else’s.
I try and think of a comeback, but I can’t think of anything that wouldn’t come across as crude and make reference to his ‘man area’ and as I haven’t been formally introduced to that area yet, I keep my jibes to myself. Not that I’m opposed to being introduced, the opposite in fact, and what I have felt, in passing moments, has made me all the surer that an introduction should be made some time soon. I run my fingers under his t-shirt and jumper as I contemplate initiating the meeting. His muscles quiver under my touch and he pulls me close to him so he can kiss me again.
What feels like hours later, my lips are tender – like I’ve had them surgically enhanced and it’s backfired, tender—and my skin is screaming with anticipation after his fingers have run along the clothes covering my body. Honestly, who created clothes? I could kill them.
“So, about those boys Dani wanted to talk about?” His lips curve into a smile under my earlobe and I lift my shoulder as my body responds to the whisper of his breath on my neck.
“Ugh.” I roll back onto the duvet. I should rename Dani the ‘Mood Killer’.
“You know.” He lifts onto an elbow and brushes his hair out of his eyes. “I’m still waiting for your boyfriend to turn up and tell me to get the hell out.”
I laugh and give him a gentle thump on the arm. “I already told you a million times, I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“And I already told you a million times, Amber French, I don’t understand why.”
“Well, why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
He snorts and wiggles his toes in his socks, which is just downright adorable. “I just haven’t met the right girl yet, I guess.” His eyes are teasing and dazzling in their depth of blue, just begging me to jump in and drown.
“Whatever! You must have had someone?” My cheeks flush faintly as I realise the implication of my question.
His eyes evaluate me, and a finger reaches out and gently runs along the curve of my cheek. Turning my face, I kiss the palm of his hand. This is one of those moments. One of those moments I know you don’t forget. Sat in my dark, warm, snug bedroom on a cold winter night with a boy like Freddy, those are moments meant to last.
“Are we going to have the talk?”
“What talk?” My cheeks burn hotter to belie my feigned innocence.
“The talk where I tell you about the other girls, and how many there were. You possibly get a bit mad and then tell me about boys I really don’t want to know about, but still need to know about all the same.”
God, he just blinds me with the way he turns things.
Sitting up, I straighten my back against my cool bedroom wall. “Do we need to have the talk? It’s only been a week. No one has the talk this soon.” I’ve heard that somewhere.
“I don’t think we are just anyone, Amber French.”
“Okay,” I agree. I don’t think he is just anyone. He’s magic. No one else is magic.
He rolls onto his back as he contemplates what to say.
‘He’s older, he’s older’, I chant in my head. Like his two-year head start in life could account for any number that he throws at me.
His fingers link through mine. “One.”
One? He must be fibbing. I’m about to call him on it, when he turns and faces me, and I can just tell by the expression on his face that he’s not lying. Freddy Bale, the most beautiful man ever created has only been with one person before. Goddamn.
“Why only one?” My voice comes out as a croak.
“I don’t know. I guess I just realised I didn’t want to waste my time. I know that’s not, uh, very normal.” He chuckles to hide his embarrassment and my heart nearly bursts. This guy can’t be for real.
Then a blinding thought hits me. Surely, someone would only limit himself like that if it were a major love thing. ‘The one’ kind of deal.
Oh shit, he’s met his ‘one’ already.
I’m crushed. I’m a ball of paper soaring for the wastepaper basket.
“And this is the mad bit I was expecting.”
I wish he wouldn’t look at me so intently like he’s reading every thought that’s folding me into teeny tiny pieces from the inside out.
