"Then we're not that different," Foreman said. It felt good--satisfying--to see Amber's reaction. Her blush and the quick way her hand went to her hair, as if to smooth it into place. He supposed it had been a line, and a pretty cheesy one at that, but he'd surprised even himself at how much he meant it. Amber's flustered response was quick enough, and honest enough, that it felt like she had forgiven him, and wasn't going to hold a grudge.

That meant more to him than he'd expected. Foreman had been trying to convince himself since Friday that it was a hookup, a one night stand, and it shouldn't mean anything that it hadn't worked out. But he was smiling softly at her, despite himself, despite trying to hold it back--House or one of the other candidates could walk in on them at any moment. Foreman wanted to reach out to Amber, let his hands settle on her waist as if it was completely natural to hold her that way. To meet her eyes; feel her hands linking behind his neck as she smiled back; the way he had when they'd been dancing.

It was too much to hope for, he knew, and impossible in this setting. Foreman didn't want to let the moment pass and have them fall right back into the same argument again. "I know I lost on Friday," he said--directly, but without overemphasizing anything. He wanted Amber to believe him, in a way that she hadn't appeared to believe his apologies. The most likely outcome was that they still wouldn't be able to get back to where they had been, but one thing working at Mercy had taught Foreman was that he was tired of not trying. He'd gotten shot down professionally, and it had hurt--it still hurt--but he'd lived through it. It had been a long time since he'd taken that kind of risk with a relationship, and it was crazy to think that this one--that Amber--was worth putting himself out there for. But crazy or not, it was how he felt.