Foreman's head jerked up the second Amber spoke. "No," he said, the word jerked from his lips before he had a chance to think about it or call it back. The break in her voice cut through his heart. He stopped opening her coat, his hands freezing as if she'd accused him of forcing himself on her. Foreman swallowed, searching her expression. Amber was pale, and she seemed suddenly fragile, like crystal that could shatter at a touch. He'd said I know and then he'd choked on the rest of what he'd meant. I have no idea. I have no fucking clue. And it scares the shit out of me. Christ, his voice would be breaking next, as if he'd suddenly regressed to high school. Like he couldn't even manage to tell a girl he liked her. Fucking pathetic. He couldn't admit that he hadn't done this in years, dated someone that he felt this much for, so quickly. All that kept repeating in his mind was Five days. Less than a week. There was no way Amber could have done this to him, like he'd lost his choice to do anything but want her, want to be with her. And now with two words he'd fucked up. He'd thought Amber would leave him the second House said jump through the hoop, but why wait for that when he could ruin it himself?
"I wanted to ignore you today," he said, forcing his voice into a low, steady register. He could barely keep himself from tearing his eyes away from Amber's, look anywhere else. It would be safer, if she couldn't see him, couldn't judge whether he was being honest. Her haughty stare was a front, he could see that now, and his stomach clenched, knowing he'd hurt her into building up those walls again, but so fast that they were imperfect, and he could see the cracks. "I wanted to act like I'd never met you. But every time I tried, you... I couldn't stop." Foreman's eyebrows drew together. God, this had to sound like he was a lovesick teenager. There was no way Amber wanted to hear him getting sentimental, acting like a complete sop. Christ, he'd be writing awful poetry next, or calling her by a cutesy pet name. He felt like an idiot, but he wasn't going to let his throat close up on these words. His heart was hammering so loudly he wondered if Amber could hear it. "I can't forget you. I want you here." Foreman pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. He couldn't escape from what he was saying; he didn't want Amber to, either. "Here. Not just in bed."
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"I wanted to ignore you today," he said, forcing his voice into a low, steady register. He could barely keep himself from tearing his eyes away from Amber's, look anywhere else. It would be safer, if she couldn't see him, couldn't judge whether he was being honest. Her haughty stare was a front, he could see that now, and his stomach clenched, knowing he'd hurt her into building up those walls again, but so fast that they were imperfect, and he could see the cracks. "I wanted to act like I'd never met you. But every time I tried, you... I couldn't stop." Foreman's eyebrows drew together. God, this had to sound like he was a lovesick teenager. There was no way Amber wanted to hear him getting sentimental, acting like a complete sop. Christ, he'd be writing awful poetry next, or calling her by a cutesy pet name. He felt like an idiot, but he wasn't going to let his throat close up on these words. His heart was hammering so loudly he wondered if Amber could hear it. "I can't forget you. I want you here." Foreman pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her waist, hugging her tightly. He couldn't escape from what he was saying; he didn't want Amber to, either. "Here. Not just in bed."