16
Amber
12th Grade
“Okay,” I say. “I’m ready.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
I hand Peter the first draft of the script that I’ve been working on. I’m really proud of the concept. I’ve always loved the story of Cassandra, the Greek prophetess who was never believed. So I wrote a script for a one-woman show where I’ll play Cassandra.
It’s just a first draft, and I know it can be so much better, but I think it has promise.
Peter smiles. “Do you want me to read it now?”
I nod, biting my lip. “If I let you take it home and read it, I’d just be driving myself crazy wondering what you thought, so I’d rather just have you read it now while I wait.”
“Okay,” he says, then leans over to give me a quick kiss. “Breathe, I’m sure it’s amazing.”
I catch his face in my hands and press our foreheads together. I love that this is our thing. It grounds me. And if it happens to remind us of Pride and Prejudice and our first kiss, then that’s just a delicious bonus.
He starts to read, and I try not to think about it. What can I do in the mean time? There’s plenty.
I pull out my notebook and start working my way through the show, listing the shots as I see them in my head. I know I’ll have to revise these shots as I edit my script, but as long as I’m making progress on my project, I feel confident.
I grab my laptop and decide to work on atmosphere. I can easily kill time on browsing costuming choices and lightning motifs. The set will be minimal, with just a plain backdrop, so the audience focuses entirely on me.
I haven’t chosen a costume yet. I’m torn between a modern look and classic Grecian robe. I click through images on my laptop, when I hear the shuffling of paper. I look over, and Peter is replacing all the pages he’s read. My heart stops. I think it has literally, actually stopped.
He looks at me, and there’s nothing in his expression, nothing at all. No sign of whether he liked it or hated it, just seems to be considering me with those fucking beautiful brown eyes and I’m starting to get distracted by how gorgeous he is but dammit focus, Amber. “For the love of God, please say something,” I say.
He doesn’t. All he does is lean forward and kiss me again. A kiss that’s hard and deep and makes my laptop slide off my lap as we collapse to the floor together.
He pulls back for a second to look at me, and I can’t keep my mouth shut. “Is that good or bad?”
Peter starts laughing. “Good. Of course it’s good! It’s an amazing concept. You thought that kiss meant it was bad?”
“I don’t know, it could be that you wanted to distract me from how bad you thought it was with an amazing kiss.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Amazing?”
I slap his arm. “Yes. But you really liked it?”
“I did. You really got to the point of it, that people deserve to be believed, no matter what. Even though it’s early, I think you got her pain really, really well.”
“Thank you,” I start blushing even though I hate myself for that.
“I love you,” he says. “You’re talented, and beautiful, and I will never understand why you came up to me that day in the snow.”
“I thought you were hot,” I blurt out. “That, and I had been watching you, and I wanted to see what your smile looked like. It’s a good smile.”
“You’re rambling,” he says with that same smile.
“It’s all the adrenaline. Nerves.”
Peter pulls me back up into a sitting position. “This is going to be great. I can’t wait to see it when it’s complete and ready.”
“I’m going to need help,” I say.
He shrugs. “Whatever you need, I got you.”
“Thanks. So while you were reading, I was thinking about whether to place it in the present or the past, and I’m torn, because there’s a bunch of different ways that you could do it, and it would all mean different things, you know?” Peter has leaned in, and is kissing my neck. Specifically, the skin right below my ear that makes me tingle. He knows it too. “Peter I’m trying to focus.”
“I think you’ve focused enough for tonight.”
“There’s so much to do.”
His hands wrap around my hips and pull me sideways. “Remember when you said that you’d take it easy? This is a part of that, knowing when you’ve worked your ass off for a day. And don’t say you didn’t, your mom told me when I got here that you’d been up here finishing that draft all day. That you’d barely stopped to eat.”
I lean my head back against the bed. “Fine, you’re right.” But my head is still spinning with ideas and plans and decisions that could tilt the project in wildly different directions. Even though it hasn’t seemed like it, I have been trying to take it easier. I just don’t really know how. There are things I need to do, and resting seems like a luxury I can’t afford. Not yet. I feel fine. Fainting was a one-time thing.