With a smile that wasn't belied by his skeptical raised eyebrow, Foreman accepted Amber's assessment of her family. It was gratifying to see Amber perk up, if only slightly, because of his reassurance. "I'm sure I will," he said. Taking a few gulps of his coffee, and burning the back of his throat, Foreman felt much more alert and prepared to play the perfect houseguest once they'd arrived.
He watched through the window as Amber drove through her parents' neighbourhood with practised assurance. The homes were tasteful, set back from the wide road, with lawns and gardens that looked neat and tended despite the autumn weather and the bare tree branches; he supposed anyone who didn't rake up their leaves or trim their summer perennials would set the neighbours gossiping. That actually felt familiar. "I know what you mean," he said. "The last Christmas I was home from college...all the rooms felt so small." His brain caught up with what he was saying, and he lapsed into silence. The last time he'd truly felt at home. New York had been his world by then, and later Maryland for med school. It felt contradictory to miss that, when he knew he'd never want to go back. Amber seemed confident, and no matter what she said, she seemed perfectly comfortable as she drew the car up behind a few others and turned off the car, so that silence settled around him.
Foreman felt her hand on his shoulder first, and turned on time to catch the firm press of her lips against his. In the cool air, she felt all the warmer, and her familiar perfume was soothing. He breathed in through his nose, leaning into the kiss although not deepening it, his hand moving up to cover hers. As he drew back, he squeezed her hand and kissed her fingers, too. The lights from the house gleamed in her eyes, giving him a slightly better view of her than she probably had of him, since he was sihouetted by the porch light. He cupped her cheek for a moment, smiling in the dark. "Ready to face the firing squad?" he asked, keeping his voice ironic. "I'll get the suitcases."
no subject
He watched through the window as Amber drove through her parents' neighbourhood with practised assurance. The homes were tasteful, set back from the wide road, with lawns and gardens that looked neat and tended despite the autumn weather and the bare tree branches; he supposed anyone who didn't rake up their leaves or trim their summer perennials would set the neighbours gossiping. That actually felt familiar. "I know what you mean," he said. "The last Christmas I was home from college...all the rooms felt so small." His brain caught up with what he was saying, and he lapsed into silence. The last time he'd truly felt at home. New York had been his world by then, and later Maryland for med school. It felt contradictory to miss that, when he knew he'd never want to go back. Amber seemed confident, and no matter what she said, she seemed perfectly comfortable as she drew the car up behind a few others and turned off the car, so that silence settled around him.
Foreman felt her hand on his shoulder first, and turned on time to catch the firm press of her lips against his. In the cool air, she felt all the warmer, and her familiar perfume was soothing. He breathed in through his nose, leaning into the kiss although not deepening it, his hand moving up to cover hers. As he drew back, he squeezed her hand and kissed her fingers, too. The lights from the house gleamed in her eyes, giving him a slightly better view of her than she probably had of him, since he was sihouetted by the porch light. He cupped her cheek for a moment, smiling in the dark. "Ready to face the firing squad?" he asked, keeping his voice ironic. "I'll get the suitcases."