For Her (The Girl I Loved Duet 1)

She blushes. “That too.”

There was a moment last year when I told her that I was falling in love with her, and she said she was too. But ever since then we’ve danced around it. I have no doubts about the way Amber feels about me, and she knows how I feel, but we’ve never said it. For me, saying it felt scary, like we were taking a big leap. But after feeling what I just felt, being that terrified, it feels like absolutely nothing.

“I love you, you know.”

Amber’s eyes go wide, and I see her swallow. “I love you, too.”

I lean down and press my forehead to hers. “I’m sorry that I took so long to say it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she whispers, “because you still said it.”

Her skin is warm under mine. Too warm. “Do you have a fever?” I ask.

She laughs loudly and it fills the room. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear after you tell me that you love me for the first time.” She collapses into giggles.

I grin. “You’re hot. And I don’t just mean hot. You’re warm, so I assume that if you don’t have a fever that that heat is just left over from me making you feel hot.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she smirks.

“I certainly will flatter myself,” I say. “Or was it somebody else that had four orgasms less than an hour ago?” I whisper it in her ear because I’m not sure if the nurse is listening or not and now that Amber is okay, I’d rather not get busted for having sex on school grounds. I mean, there are worse things we could be doing. We could have a secret meth lab down there. But I have a feeling that there would be some kind of detention for both of us, and I’m not about to get Amber’s perfect record smudged.

Even if it was her idea.

“Maybe it was all those orgasms making me feel faint,” she says, batting her eyes at me.

“I hope not.” I’m serious. “I would never want that to happen.”

She reaches out and grabs my arm. “Peter, I’m kidding. This had nothing to do with you. I just need to get a little more sleep.”

“If you’re sure,” I say.

“I’m very sure.”

There are footsteps behind me. “I said to let her rest,” the nurse says, sounding annoyed. “That means not crowding her, and not pushing her to do things she’s not ready for.”

What? I give Amber a look, and she gives me one back. I sit up and move further away from her because I’m not about to piss off the nurse.

“I called your parents,” the nurse says. “They’ll be here shortly to pick you up.”

“Wait, no,” Amber says, pushing herself into a sitting position. “I’m fine. I have rehearsal soon.”

The nurse presses on Amber’s shoulder, insisting until she lies back down. “No. You need to rest, and nothing else matters. Rehearsals can wait.”

The nurse turns her back to reach for something, and if looks could kill, she would be dead from Amber’s glare of pure fucking fire. She’s about to say something, and I catch her eye and shake my head. We could sneak her back into rehearsal later and the nurse will never know, but I can’t say anything until she’s out of the room.

We wait in unbearable awkward silence for ten minutes until I hear footsteps in the hall outside.

“Amber?” It’s her mother’s voice, and she pokes her head into the room. “There you are. You okay?”

“I’m fine, Mom,” she mumbles.

“Good,” she says. “Let’s go. You too, Peter.”

We both follow her into the hall, and I sneak my hand into Amber’s and squeeze. She squeezes back. Once we’re in the hall she turns. “What happened?”

“I think I just got lightheaded. I fainted and Peter brought me here. But I’m fine, and I am going to rehearsal.” The tone in her voice surprises me. Amber has a great relationship with her parents, and I’ve never heard her speak like that to them.

Her mom raises her eyebrows. “Do you have anything important tomorrow? Tests? Homework?”

Amber shakes her head. “No.”

“Okay. I’ll let you go to rehearsal, but you’re staying home from school tomorrow so you can rest before tomorrow night.” I can tell Amber’s about to argue, but her mom shuts it down. “That’s the end of it, Amber. Either that or you skip tonight’s rehearsal. If you’re so exhausted that you’re fainting, then something’s gotta give. You choose.”

She sighs. “Fine, I’ll stay home tomorrow.”

“And if you feel faint tonight, don’t try to tough it out, you call me or have someone bring you home. You’re at rehearsal too Peter?”

“Sure,” I say. I’m not in this play, but no way in hell am I letting Amber out of my sight for the next couple of hours. “I’ll be there.”

Her mom nods. “Good. I’ll send a note to the office about tomorrow. I’ll see you at home.” She pulls Amber into a hug before heading off down the hallway. That’s the way both her parents are. They’re blunt and to the point—no doubt where Amber gets it from—and they love her, but they don’t hover. They only intervene if they have to.