˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀

But now that you two were here, inside the Magic shop, you knew you never felt more confused in your life. Amber, on the other hand, looked like a child in a candy store. Her eyes quite literally glowed, whereas yours were conflicted about where the most interesting place was to look.

Everything was just a piece of plastic on a shelf to you. All of it blended together, nothing really any more interesting than the other on the surface—but for Amber’s sake, you at least needed to try to figure things out around here.

“So…” you began, unsure how to correctly take in your surroundings. “This place looks nice.”

Amber nodded, closely inspecting a box of booster packs. “Yeah, it’s actually not too bad.”

“Really?” You were lying out of your ass and completely made that up, so you were shocked to see that you were right.

“They have some good stuff at an alright price. Other places, they don’t really have them. Or they do, but the stock’s low, so they get pretty expensive pretty quickly.”

“I knew that.” Again, you didn’t. “Also, don’t you think it’s kinda chilly in here?”

Amber diverted her attention from the card packs back to you, where your arms were crossed over your body to calm your slight shivering. “You cold?” she asked, her responsibleness kicking in immediately. “I can give you my jacket. Of course, only if you’re OK with it. I know that we…”

She stopped herself there, glancing over her shoulder anxiously to see if anyone was watching.

Officially, you two hadn’t told the public you were dating yet. It wasn’t like either of you were afraid, god no, but more like…it just didn’t feel like the right thing to do yet. Like maybe, by telling the whole world about it, you would be ruining or jinxing a good thing.

Because this was easy. Keeping it between you and a close circle of friends was easy, uncomplicated. Yours, especially.

But to Amber’s apprehension, you just shrugged. “I don’t mind.”

“Then neither do I,” she said, unzipping her jacket and draping it over your shoulders. Compared to how it fit on Amber, it looked oversized on you. “What, do you want me to zip it up for you, too?”

Obviously, that was a joke, but it didn’t sound like something you would deny at the moment. “Yes, actually,” you said, keeping your arms crossed over each other.

Dutifully, Amber did exactly that and patted your shoulder afterward. “You look comfy,” she commented, barely trying to conceal her snickering. “Adorable, too. Maybe I should take a photo to savor the moment.”

“If you say it like that, then I’ll start to get the feeling I look like an idiot in this.”

“What? No,” she laughed, taking her phone out of her pocket and framing you within the lens. “Come on, say cheese.”

“How stupid do I look right now? Be honest.”

“Very.”

To that, you frowned playfully. “Thanks, Amber,” you said.

“I’m kidding. Well, mostly, anyway. It’s, like, a cute stupid.”

She snapped one last photo before stuffing her phone back into her pocket, then stole one quick peck on your cheek. “Let’s go check out what else they have,” she suggested, pacing in another direction.

In retaliation, you speedily caught up to her and left a kiss of your own on her cheek, to which she responded by doing the same to you.

Amber shook her head, taking this as a challenge. “If you want to play this game, you know you’re not going to w—“

In an instant, you shut her up by planting a kiss on her lips—and that seemed to work more effectively than you thought. Her face turned red right away, and she could only sputter out her next words. 

At a loss, Amber held your hand in hers, then pressed a kiss to your knuckles. “That was unfair,” she said. “And cheating.”

“Who cares?” you said. “It’s not like anyone’s going to see us.”

/

Everyone saw you and Amber.

It was trending on Twitter—at least, on the figure skating side—and videos and photos of it spread like wildfire across TikTok and Instagram.

Most of the reception was kind and respectful, but others demanded an explanation and expressed a dire need to know exactly who you were and what you were doing with their beloved Amber Glenn.

You and Amber were doing alright. It didn’t nearly worry you as much as it amused you, in all honesty. The news was bound to come out soon enough, but how it happened was in a way neither of you could have ever anticipated.

“What should we do?” she asked while sitting at the foot of the bed, watching the notifications flood her inbox.

You sat beside her and watched how she was tagged in a new video every minute, all featuring the same photos of you and her holding hands and kissing at that goddamned Magic store. “I don’t know,” you admitted. “It’s my first time having my relationship hard launched for me at a trading card store, with hundreds of thousands of people to see it.”

Amber chuckled. “You and me both,” she said before turning to you, fully meeting your eyes. “But seriously. Anything you want to do or say, I’m in. It’s your choice.”

You contemplated these words for a second. Frankly, it didn’t matter what everyone else thought about your relationship with Amber—what mattered most was that you two could continue being together, normally, just as you were before. But this time, you wouldn’t feel a need to hide it anymore.

“I think they should know about it,” you decided. “Hear it from us.”

“Of course,” she agreed immediately, though you knew she would’ve said it no matter what your decision was. “I—how do you want to say it? I could send a message to my team, or I could make a post online somewhere, or…I don’t know. Whatever you wanna do.”

“We could just,” you began with a shrug, “go on live. Record and make a complete fool of ourselves while answering their questions, just so that they know we’re real.”

Amber snorted. “As opposed to fake?”

“You never know.”

“It’s all AI,” she teased.

“You’re joking, but I’ve seen a lot of people say that.”

“OK,” she said. “We’re going live, then. Like, right now, or..?”

“Right now.”

Since Amber wasn’t the best at navigating her phone, you guided her through the app and changed some of her settings before starting the live, then took a deep breath as she pressed the start button.

“So, hi, everyone,” Amber said. “Oh, wow, that’s a lot of people. Um, yeah, hey. See, look, everyone’s talking about it already,” she told you, showing you the screen and revealing your face on the camera as a result, which made the live chat go even crazier:

OMG IT’S HER Amber’s gf is so pretty Wait the pics were real?????

For a moment, you were speechless. The chat was moving faster than you could read, and so you just gave up on reading it altogether.

“Yes, the photos were real,” you said to the camera. “I’m not AI.”

“And she is my girlfriend,” Amber added on. “You probably should have said that first.”

“I think the AI thing was more important.”

“Good point.”

 “And…” You squinted, trying to think of another thing to say without the help of the ever-changing chat. “And we’ve been dating for a while now. So, sorry you guys were in the dark about that, even though it’s not really your business.”

Amber looked very entertained, all her focus directed towards you rather than the screen.

You tried racking your brain to say something else, but all you could manage to think and say was this: “And that, actually, was my first time ever stepping into a card shop. Because I wanted to do it. For her.”

“Aww,” she said. “Sweet.”

“And also because I do like her. A lot, actually. I mean, she’s my girlfriend,” you said, then paused.

Neither of you were looking at the screen anymore, nor did you even register it. Simply, it just wasn’t important. If anything, it could have been just the two of you in that room, without the thousands of people watching this very moment.

Your eyebrows creased on their own as you looked her in the eye. “I love her,” you said aloud, an honest admission more than anything else. It just slipped out of your mouth without you even knowing it yourself—just as the truth always does.

Amber smiled back at you, nose crinkling. “And I love her, too,” she whispered.

Polite as ever, she’d ask every few minutes if everything was alright. Each time, you’d shake it off with a playful joke or a shrug of your shoulders.

“I’m just so excited to get on the train that I’m shaking,” you joked, hoping that would be your last for the night. Amber didn’t buy this for a second, and you could tell that immediately, but neither of you said anything about it.

You didn’t know Amber very well. At minimum, you knew the basics: she was nice, outgoing, liked playing nerdy card games you thought nobody actually cared about—but you never really had the chance to get to know her better than that.

As far as you knew, the only thing that tied you two together was the fact you happened to share the same training rink sometimes. Which wasn’t a lot. But that was just the way it was.

The good thing was that it didn’t matter too much; the train was coming in a couple minutes, and then it would all be over. She’d be seated on her end of the train, and you’d be on yours. This would all become a distant, yet agonizing memory for you to think of that neither of you would need to speak about ever again.

But every time Amber shot a glance your way, concern laced in her eyes, you couldn’t help but feel something deep in your chest. Whatever that something was, though, you didn’t know—and maybe you didn’t want to know!

All you wanted was to go home.

When the train finally arrived, you stood up so quickly that your knees instantly strained with the effort. You knew Amber saw it happen, but again, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

So, sure, maybe you might have limped a bit on your way to the opening train doors, but did that affect you? Did you care? Not at all!

At some point, Amber appeared beside you and wordlessly offered her arm for support, but you were so close to entering the subway that you pretended not to see it.

That was, until you were actually inside the subway and realized that basically no seats were available.

None except for one.

Well, that was just great.

When Amber withdrew her arm, her gaze seemed to follow yours. “Hey, you can sit there if you want,” she said.

The doors were closing, and your legs still ached like hell, but you were trying your hardest now to pretend they weren’t. Stubbornness wasn’t a quality that got anyone far, you knew that, but you’d already lied about your legs not hurting this much already–what was a few more lies, anyway?

And also, you didn’t want Amber to worry. You two hardly knew each other as it was.

“What? No. You should sit there,” you said. “You’re the Olympic champion.”

“Well, I wasn’t quite the champion, I actually only medaled in the team event, but—“

She stopped herself, clearing her throat. “Please, sit. You know, I actually like standing more than sitting.”

“Cool. So do I.”

“Do you?” she asked skeptically, eyes darting down to your legs. In response, you steadied them as best you could.

“Of course,” you replied. “Getting my standing goal in.” You pointed to your wrist to emphasize the fact, but quickly drew your hand back when you realized you didn’t have an Apple watch. “I have it on a Google Sheet at home” was your next form of explanation.

“You have your standing goal on a Google Sheet?” she repeated, barely trying to bite back her smile.

“No, an Excel sheet.” Maybe changing the story wasn’t the best course of action, but there was a chance going into the specifics would allow it to pass off as more believable.

“But you just said a Google Sheet.”

“They’re basically the same thing.”

“They’re basically not.”

“You know what? I strongly encourage you to take the seat instead,” you said, changing the subject. At least if she sat down, you wouldn’t have to deal with this for the rest of the ride home. “My pleasure. Looks pretty roomy and comfortable.”

“Maybe for you,” she replied. “But I like standing.”

“I know, you told me that already.”

“So that’s why you should sit there.”

“No, you should sit there.”

You didn’t know quite exactly how you ended up in a battle of courtesy with Amber, but somehow it just happened. And it also looked like there was no way out of it; you were in far too deep to concede now.

“Fine, then,” Amber said at once. “I’ll sit.”

She didn’t stop looking at you, though. She just crossed her arms and maintained eye contact, waiting for you to say something.

But there was nothing to say. You just crossed your arms as well and waited for her to look away—but she never did.

“What?” you had to ask once her stupid gaze felt unbearable.

“Feel like changing your mind yet?”

“Why would I do that?” Immediately after saying this, you had to stabilize yourself with the subway pole when your legs almost gave out entirely.

To this, Amber laughed. In response, you just glared at her.

“Come on. Sit down,” she asserted with finality, standing up from her seat and offering it to you.

“You sit down. Olympic gold medalist.”

Amber looked you over one more time, and once she finished, sighed with a smile. “God, you are impossible,” she said.

Then, just as you wanted, Amber seated herself back down. But this time, she patted her lap while gesturing toward you.

“The both of us can sit. Great compromise,” she said.

At first, you weren’t sure you were reading the situation correctly. “And where am I going to sit?” you asked.

She just shrugged. “On my lap. Best of both worlds.”

You took a few more seconds to compute this, trying your hardest to come to the most logical conclusion you could despite your brain short-circuiting. Sure enough, it still didn’t click completely.

Upon your silence, Amber just smirked and said, “Something wrong?”

You shook your head.

On one hand, your legs were killing you. On the other hand, you would rather die than sit on Amber’s lap right now. The million-dollar question here: which was worse?

Or maybe the worst part wasn’t either of those, but rather the fact Amber was watching you so smugly. Like she could listen in on the internal debate going on in your head, and she knew exactly how she backed you into a corner.

And she was successful. There was nothing else you could do other than acquiesce and begrudgingly sit on her lap, your legs a lot more grateful for the fact than your brain.

Right after you sat down, the train jerked so violently that you almost fell off—but just in time, Amber managed to catch you by your hips.

A searing blush crept into your cheeks and up your ears—you couldn’t help it; any reasonable person on this planet would’ve done the exact same, and all you could do was thank god she couldn’t see your face right now.

“That almost ended terribly,” she mused, her smile audible through her tone. And, given how physically close you two were, she only needed to speak the words at a volume barely above a whisper. That softness, that lowness in her voice, sent shivers down your spine.

When her arms removed themselves from your sides, you found yourself silently wishing they never left.

Then, to give your legs more rest, you adjusted yourself more comfortably on Amber, your back fully pressed into her. Against your body, Amber felt solid, strong. Warm, especially, as if you could melt into her if you really wanted to.

Eventually your legs, along with every other part of your body, went numb.

“Don’t worry, you’re almost home,” Amber reminded you after a few more minutes. “Then you can finally get off me, which I already know you’re dying to do.”

If only she knew that really wasn’t the truth.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “It’s nice.”

“Better than getting your standing goal in?”

“Only a bit more.”

Amber seemed to find this funny. When she chuckled, or when she said anything really, her body vibrated against yours. “Hang in a little longer,” she told you.

You counted every inhale and exhale she took until the train reached your stop.

“Are you going to have trouble getting up?” Amber asked, ever the responsible woman.

Not finding any worth in lying anymore, you just nodded your head and prepared yourself to stand on legs you nearly forgot how to use. But Amber, placing her hands on your hips, lifted both of you up as if you were a singular unit.

“That help?”

As soon as you separated, the warmth on your back from Amber vanished disappointingly fast.

Although you were standing now, using the pole to support yourself again, there was something in you that didn’t want to leave. Sure, it could’ve easily been due to how weak your legs were, but you knew that wasn’t the full truth.

You didn’t want to say goodbye to Amber.

“So,” she said, not moving an inch either. “The more I think about it, the more I think you might have trouble leaving the station, too. It’s a pretty long walk.”

“You’re right. Probably need your help with that, too.”

“And, you know, I’m also kinda getting the feeling you might need some help walking home, too? Like, just in case?”

“No, yeah. Totally.”

“And then, just so we’re super sure, I could help you get to bed? Maybe even check out that standing goal Excel sheet you were talking about?”

“Exactly.”

In the middle of her routine, Amber Glenn slipped on the ice and nearly crashed into you. When it happened, you were so focused on watching Alysa and Isabeau glide gracefully across the ice that you didn’t notice the third skater charging a lot less gracefully right in your direction.

Of course, she was pretty hard to ignore when you two made brief eye contact that read “Oh fuck” more than anything else. But luckily, she narrowly missed you.

Amber didn’t seem nearly as dazed as you were, because within seconds she sprinted back onto the ice and continued on with her routine as usual. Like nothing ever happened.

You, however, weren’t so lucky.

Your heart was still racing minutes after the routine ended. The obvious reason was because it was horrifying—a woman with knives on her feet almost smashed into you—but you knew something else kept your heartbeat irregular. You just didn’t know what.

Maybe it was the fact you knew the moment would get reposted on several different social media platforms and recorded with several different POVs, all of which including your unprepared and downright horrified face. Or maybe it was because it was one of your first times attending a figure skating event, and this was how it turned out.

Some would say you were blessed. But with the way your heart couldn’t shut up, were you?

You didn’t know the answer to that question either.

All you knew was that your heart needed to calm down.

By the time the show officially ended, your Google search history was filled with inquiries like: “How high is too high for a heart rate?” and “Heart rate calming exercises,” but results for the latter failed to help your case.

And frankly, you started to blame Amber Glenn for all of this. She was the one who landed into you; she was the one who made your heart race an uncomfortable amount. It all began with her. All of it had to be her fault.

You were on your way out of the venue when someone stopped you.

“What?” you hissed. You were already irritated by the slow traffic out of the building—slow walkers were the bane of your existence—so it came out with a bit more venom than you had expected yourself.

But as soon as you turned to see who stopped you, your heart skipped an entire beat or two.

It was Amber. And she actually looked quite hurt.

“Sorry. I just—I’m Amber,” she explained.

Dumbstruck, all you could do was blink. “I know.”

“And I slipped off the ice and almost hit you.”

“I know that, too.”

“OK, this is…Sorry, I’m being so stupid right now. I just wanted to ask if you could send me the footage from when I fell into you. I saw you were recording, and I thought it would be funny to, like, post or something.” You were still so shocked that it took you a bit to answer, but Amber seemed to take this as disapproval. “I’m so sorry, by the way. I didn’t mean to—“

“You’re saying sorry a lot.”

“Sorry—oh, oops,” Amber caught herself. Then she laughed, her nose crinkling with the effort, and you finally realized why your heart couldn’t stop racing.

It wasn’t because your life was momentarily in danger.

Actually, it was something far worse than that:

It was because you found this woman deathly attractive, and just being in her vicinity was enough to drive you insane. And judging by your heart, she already had.

Here she was now, looking into your eyes like you were the only thing in the universe, probably expecting an answer out of you, but you weren’t listening to a single word she said. Amber Glenn. God, Amber fucking Glenn.

“Um, but only if you’re cool with it,” she added to her previous statement, the one you most definitely did not hear.

You gave her your best guess: “Yeah, sure, I can send it to you.”

“Well, actually, I was kinda hoping you could give me your tag first. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I get a lot of DMs”—she cringed at herself—“um, so it would be hard to filter through all of them, just looking for yours specifically. It’s, just like, an efficiency thing,” Amber said, shrugging.

“OK,” you said slowly. To be honest, you just wanted the interaction to end. You wanted to be done with this hopeless, embarrassing crush as soon as possible—to get on with your life, to have your heart rate and insanity cured, to be as chill about this entire thing as she surely was.

But again, you weren’t that lucky.

Amber handed you her phone, her Instagram search bar ready to be typed into. Your fingers stumbled as they worked, and you prayed that muscle memory didn’t fail you. How embarrassing would it be to get your own handle wrong? How embarrassing would it be to have a crush on a super famous (and hot) figure skater who everyone already has a crush on?

You shivered. You handed her phone back.

“Thanks,” she said. “Do you mind sending it to me  right now?”

You really didn’t want to elongate this any further. “The internet’s not good here,” you lied.

“I can give you my hotspot!” she offered.

“No, really, it’s fine. I’ll send it to you later.”

“I don’t want you to forget.”

“How could anyone forget about you?”

You didn’t mean to say that out loud, and immediately you regretted it. “I mean, it’s not every day a figure skater almost gives you grounds for a lawsuit,” you continued, trying your hardest to play it off.

Amber winced at that. “I’m still really sorry about that.”

“And you’re also still saying sorry.”

“That’s because I am.”

For a second, you considered this. Considered the way her eyes filled with honest remorse, the way her bottom lip jut out. Everything she did was attractive, and so much so that it was almost annoying. “I gotta go,” you said, turning the other way.

“Wait!”

You turned back around but avoided looking at Amber directly because you knew you could never look away.

“Is that your dog?”

Amber turned her phone your way, showing you a picture you posted a few weeks ago of you and a Golden Retriever.

Really, you were more confused than you were shocked. “It’s my friend’s dog,” you blurted back.

“Are you kidding? That’s, like, the cutest dog I’ve ever seen in my life. What’s its name?”

“Her name’s Amber,” you replied. “But not, like, you Amber, but dog Amber.” That was a stupid response. “It’s—I’m trying to say it was a coincidence.”

She looked disappointed. “I wish a Golden Retriever was named after me, though.”

“It can be, if you want.”

“She’s adorable,” Amber reiterated, turning her phone back around so she could look at the photo. “And beautiful.”

“Well, ‘beautiful’ is an overstatement. You should see her when she chews on table corners. She goes super rogue sometimes, and it’s just…”

Amber smiled. She was watching you, evidently amused. “How do you know I was talking about the dog?” she asked.

Oh.