Rain taps against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Nate''s room like nature''s own Morse code, transforming the woods behind the Brooks estate into a dark canvas of shifting shadows. The space itself is a testament to carefully curated masculinity—all clean lines and neutral tones, with just enough personal touches to make it feel lived in rather than staged. Like everything else in Nate''s world, it walks the line between effortless and intentional.
Amber burrows deeper into Nate''s oversized football sweater, the familiar BROOKS 67 stretched across her shoulders like a claim of ownership. The fabric smells like him—a mix of his cologne and that indefinable scent that makes her heart do illegal things in her chest. Her bare feet rest in his lap, and his fingers trace absent patterns along her ankle, each touch sending little sparks of electricity through her nervous system.
"What about Gatsby and Daisy?" She holds up her phone, displaying yet another Pinterest-perfect couple costume. The rain creates a cozy backdrop to their Halloween planning session, making the bedroom feel like their own private universe.
"Pass," Nate says without looking up, his thumb finding a particularly sensitive spot on her arch that makes her toes curl. "I''m not spending the whole night explaining to Jake who Gatsby is."
"Romeo and Juliet?"
That gets her a look—the one that makes her understand why freshman girls giggle in the hallways when he passes. "You want us to dress as teenagers who die? That''s dark, princess."
She scrolls further, past endless iterations of couples trying too hard to be clever. "We could do the classic angel and devil thing. Though..." Her eyes drift over his bare chest, all wide receiver perfection and careful dedication to weight room schedules. "You''d make a pretty convincing angel."
"Says the girl who made a freshman cry last week."
"She was wearing knockoff Valentino. Someone had to tell her."
His laugh rumbles through the mattress. "You''re terrible."
"You love it."
"God help me, I do." His fingers slide higher, tracing the delicate bones of her ankle. "Find anything that won''t end in tragedy or tears?"
"Wait—" She sits up straighter, nearly kicking him in her excitement. "Harley Quinn and Joker. Look!"
Nate leans forward, interest finally caught. The movement does interesting things to his abs—a sight that still makes her Instagram followers spam heart emojis. "That could work."
"Right? You''d look hot with green hair." She runs her fingers through his waves, imagining the transformation. "All dangerous and unhinged."
"Takes one to know one," he teases, catching her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm. "You just want an excuse to wear those tiny shorts."
"Please. Like I need an excuse." She arches an eyebrow. "Besides, you love my legs."
"Among other things." His voice drops lower, making promises his parents downstairs probably wouldn''t approve of.
Nate’s hand wandered past her feet, brushing against her ankles, his fingers warm and deliberate. Amber shivered at the sensation, then kicked his hand away lightly, grinning. “Not today,” she teased, her voice soft but firm.
Nate groaned dramatically, his eyes flicking up to meet hers. “You’re killing me, Amber. I want you so fucking bad.”
“You’ll survive,” she replied, stretching out her legs and tapping his shoulder with her toes. “I’ve got to keep up the perfect girlfriend act for your mom. She’s finally starting to like me. I’m not about to let her think I’m corrupting her precious son.”
Nate’s laugh was low and throaty. “If only she knew what you do to me.”
Amber leaned closer, her lips curling into a wicked smile. “Only what her son does to me.”
He let out a frustrated grunt and flopped back against the pillows. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“And yet, here you are,” she said, tossing her hair over one shoulder. “Now be a good boyfriend and make yourself useful. How about a back rub?”
Nate raised an eyebrow. “A back rub? That’s the best way I can please my princess?”
Amber nodded solemnly. “Not just any back rub. The one you do when I can’t sleep—the kind where you tickle me just a little. You’re surprisingly good at it.”
“Surprisingly?” He sat up, feigning offense, then reached for her waist. “Come here, princess. Let’s see how good I really am.”
She squealed as he helped her wiggle out of the oversized jersey, leaving her in just her bra. Nate shifted, straddling her hips and sitting on her bottom. His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing her shoulders and tickling down her back. Amber’s laughter bubbled up uncontrollably, blending with contented hums as the tension melted away.
But the moment was cut short by a sharp voice from downstairs. “Nathaniel!”
Amber froze, then stifled a giggle as Nate groaned and dropped his forehead against her shoulder. “Dr. Katherine Brooks summons you,” she teased.
“Don’t move,” he murmured, pressing a quick kiss to her neck before standing. He grabbed a hoodie from his desk chair and tugged it on as he headed for the door. “I’ll be back.”
Amber watched him leave, the door clicking softly shut behind him. The room felt bigger without him, the quiet more noticeable. Her eyes drifted to the nightstand where his phone lay forgotten. She hesitated, biting her lip. It wasn’t like she didn’t trust him—she did. Mostly.
But the memory of the last time she’d looked lingered, sharp and unforgiving. That Snapchat of Lisa Chen, still open—a picture that could ruin Lisa’s life if Amber ever chose to use it. She told herself she wouldn’t check again, that it wasn’t worth the drama. Yet her fingers itched with curiosity.
Before she could second-guess herself, she grabbed his phone. The screen lit up, and her own face stared back at her: a photo from the summer, lounging on her parents’ yacht in the Bahamas. She’d picked that bikini because she knew it drove Nate crazy. And it worked. His mom might see a classy family portrait, but Amber knew better. Nate was obsessed with that photo, and the way it made him feel like she belonged to him.This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
She swiped up and entered his passcode—6767. The digits were as easy to remember as breathing. Nate wasn’t exactly secretive about it to her.
Amber opened Snapchat, her heart beating faster than she liked to admit. The app loaded, revealing streaks, unopened snaps, and—Lisa’s chat. She clicked on it, her breath hitching as she scanned their messages.
Lisa was flirting. So obvious it was embarrassing. The stupid winks, the “this stays between us, right? ;)” messages. Amber’s jaw tightened as she read Lisa’s desperate attempts to pull Nate into her orbit. But Nate? His replies were short. Polite. Detached. If he’d taken the bait, it didn’t show here. A strange mixture of emotions churned in her chest—pride in Nate for keeping it cool, and fury at Lisa for even trying.
“Lisa Chen,” Amber muttered through clenched teeth, her voice low and sharp. The name tasted bitter in her mouth, a reminder of betrayal. Lisa had played the friend card once, all sweet smiles and shared secrets, but now? Amber’s nails pressed into her palm, leaving tiny crescents behind. The rage churned within her, simmering just beneath the surface, hot and relentless.
Lisa was pretty, though. Amber couldn’t deny that. Hot, even. For a moment, that bitter admission cut through her anger. But it didn’t last. The thought of Lisa’s face, her too-perfect eyeliner, trying to edge into Amber’s territory made her stomach turn. Her vision blurred, the familiar tightness in her chest swelling until it felt like her ribs might crack.
She’s going to pay for this, Amber thought. And Nate… Nate should have told her. Her anger shifted direction, sharper now, pointed at him. Her breathing quickened, shallow and erratic. The room spun for a moment, her pulse pounding in her ears. She slammed the phone back onto the nightstand just as she heard his footsteps on the stairs.
The door opened, and Nate walked in, his face lit up with an easy smile. "Mom needed help with a plant pot. You know her—can''t let anyone sit still for too long," he said, tugging his hoodie straight with a casual shrug. "She’s probably just using it as an excuse to check in on us, though. Classic Mom."
Amber’s fists clenched tighter. Her jaw ached from grinding her teeth. She wanted to throw something at him, to scream until her throat burned, to make him feel even a fraction of the chaos storming inside her. The anger overtook her, wild and uncontrollable, like a hurricane that refused to be contained. It was happening more often lately, these violent bursts of fury that left her trembling and breathless.
“Hey,” Nate said softly, his tone cautious but steady. “You okay?”
“I’m fine,” Amber snapped, the venom in her voice unmistakable. Her hands shook, and her breathing came in sharp, uneven bursts. She felt like she was unraveling, the threads of her composure slipping through her fingers.
Nate moved closer, lowering himself to one knee in front of her. His expression didn’t waver, calm and reassuring. “Amber,” he said quietly, his voice a soothing balm against the storm inside her. “It’s me. Talk to me.”
Her chest heaved, the fire inside her burning hotter, but something in his tone made her hesitate. She turned her head, refusing to meet his eyes. Her mind raced, a chaotic jumble of rage, guilt, and the unbearable weight of being seen.
Nate didn’t press her. He placed his hands gently on her knees, the warmth of his touch grounding her. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice softer now. “I’m here. Whatever’s going on, we’ll figure it out. Together.”
Amber’s breathing hitched, and her hands unclenched, leaving crescent-shaped imprints on her palms. The fire inside her flickered, dimming under the steady glow of his presence. Her shoulders sagged, the tension seeping out of her body.
“I… I’m just…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard, forcing the words out. “I get in my head sometimes.”
“That’s okay,” Nate said, his thumbs brushing gentle circles on her knees. “You don’t have to go through it alone. I’ve got you, babe. Always.”
Amber tried to hold back the tears, but they came anyway, hot and unrelenting. She buried her face in her hands, her breath hitching. "I''m sorry," she whispered, her voice breaking. "I… I don’t know why this happens. I can’t stop it."
Nate’s expression softened instantly. He knelt in front of her, pulling her hands gently away from her face. "Hey, hey," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "It’s okay, babe. You’re okay."
His words wrapped around her like a warm blanket, steadying her as the storm inside began to quiet. Nate shifted closer, his arms enveloping her. Amber clung to him, her tears soaking into his hoodie, but he didn’t seem to care.
"You always make it better," she mumbled against his chest. "I love you."
He leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, his thumbs wiping away the damp trails on her cheeks. "And I love you," he said simply. "Every messy, beautiful part of you."
Her chest ached, but now it was from a swell of gratitude, not anger. "I was afraid of losing you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.
Nate’s brow furrowed. "Losing me? Amber, there’s no chance of that. None. Zero." His voice was gentle but firm, as if he could will her to believe it. "You’re my girl. Always have been, always will be."
The conviction in his tone made her lips curve into a small smile. "You mean that?"
"Of course I do. Look at you—there’s my princess again," he said, his voice softening into the teasing tone she knew so well.
A weak laugh escaped her. "You’re ridiculous," she murmured.
"Ridiculously in love with you," Nate countered, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her lips. It was sweet and unhurried, a quiet reminder of their connection.
When they pulled apart, he reached for a tissue on the nightstand, dabbing away the last of her tears. "There. Now my princess is good as new."
Amber sighed, the weight in her chest finally lifting. "I’m sorry. For being… I don’t know. Crazy or something."
Nate tilted his head, his eyes twinkling with affection. "You’re not crazy. Well, maybe a little bit. But I love that part of you, too."
She swatted at his arm, a faint grin breaking through her remaining gloom. "Can we just forget the last five minutes happened?"
Nate’s face lit up, and he dramatically rewound an imaginary tape with his hands. "Bzzt! Rewinding! Okay, Amber’s weird meltdown—deleted!"
His antics sent a burst of laughter through her, loud and genuine. It felt good—better than she’d expected.
"Lay on your belly," Nate commanded, his tone playful but insistent.
Amber raised an eyebrow but obeyed, sprawling out on the bed.
He climbed onto the bed, straddling her hips again. "Now," he said, his fingers trailing down her spine with a feather-light touch, "I’m going to remind you how much I love you, one tickle at a time."
Her laughter bubbled up instantly, filling the room as his hands danced across her back, erasing every trace of the storm that had just passed.
Amber lay still beneath Nate’s touch, the gentle tracing of his fingers on her back sending a shiver of warmth through her body. It wasn’t the kind of touch that demanded anything—no urgency, no expectation—just a quiet reassurance that he was there, grounding her in the moment. She let out a slow, steady breath, her worries ebbing away with each soft stroke.
She didn’t know how he did it, how he always seemed to know exactly what she needed before she even said it. There was something about the way he tickled her back that was impossible to explain. It wasn’t just the sensation, though that was nice, too. It was the way it felt like he was painting invisible words onto her skin, each one saying, “I’m here. You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Her eyes fluttered shut, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was moments like these that made everything else fade away—the fights, the doubts, the constant hum of anxiety in the back of her mind. This was their space, their quiet little corner of the world where nothing could reach her.
“Close your eyes, love,” Nate murmured, his voice low and steady, like the rumble of distant thunder. It vibrated through her, calming her in a way she could never quite put into words. “I promise, I won’t stop until you say so.”
Amber obeyed, her lashes resting against her cheeks as she sank deeper into the mattress. The rhythmic motion of his fingers on her back was hypnotic, lulling her into a space where time didn’t matter and the weight of the world couldn’t touch her.
“Thank you,” she whispered, though she wasn’t sure if he even heard her. Maybe she didn’t need him to. The gratitude was in her smile, in the way her body finally relaxed against his touch.
Nate didn’t respond, at least not with words. Instead, he kept going, his fingers tracing lazy, looping patterns across her skin. She let herself drift, caught in the warm glow of his presence and the steady rhythm of his movements. For once, her mind was quiet.
The last coherent thought she had before sleep claimed her was simple: this, right here, was love.