As Amber slipped away from the lockers, Foreman worked his arms around behind her again. The metal chilled the backs of his arms, but it didn't matter; he wanted Amber closer, tucked right up against him. Her fingertips drifting over the back of his head and the contrast, warmth and lightness, nearly undid him, with how tender she could be. It would be so easy to bend his head, rest against her shoulder while he tasted the side of her throat, continued down the familiar path along her neck to suck and lick at her collarbone. If they'd been somewhere else, with more privacy, he might have. Or if there wasn't a real conversation happening, almost despite himself.

Foreman's eyes flickered across Amber's face, trying to see how much she meant it. He'd given her an opening; she could have asked him a question, but she'd opened herself up to him instead. That she'd expect it to be reciprocal, he didn't doubt; an eye for an eye seemed to be her style, if nothing else. But it meant something that she was willing to go first and put herself out there. The way she'd reacted after Foreman had grabbed her wrists, and he'd thought maybe this would be like the other times when she'd shut down any conversation about herself and begged off telling him anything until "later". He doubted that she'd always meant later to be now, but it helped him to trust her. Still, the idea that he would have to tell her more, even afterwards, even after promising to try, erased some of his ease.

Worry about it when she asked him. Foreman figured he already knew what she'd ask, anyway. For himself, there were plenty of deep questions he could ask, but only one immediate thing. "You said we hadn't kissed today," he said. He wasn't quite sure how to frame his theory. Most of the truth he wanted he thought he'd see as he studied her face, measured the tension in her body under his hands, for her response. "Did you think we weren't going to?"