October

AMBER'S POV

"Crap."

I look at the schedule and see that it's my turn to wash the dishes after the meal is complete.

"Trudy, do I have to do the dishes tonight? I have a ton of homework that's calling my name…"

"You're not getting off that easily, young lady," Trudy remarks as she tosses me a soggy towel. "Get to work."

"Shouldn't there be someone else here helping me at least? Where is…" I glance at the schedule. "Beck Oliver?"

Beck Oliver. He is one of the newer boys who started at the beginning of term. I haven't gotten to spend much time with him, but from afar, he seems like a total catch. He's tall, blonde, athletic, and crazy smart. He's a paradox in himself - tall, blonde athletic… and smart. It's just unnatural - yet intriguing.

"He'll be here soon," Trudy assures. "He came home late from school so he's in his room changing out of his uniform."

For some reason I can't get the image of a shirtless Beck changing clothes out of my mind.

"Hey, Amber!" I hear an enthusiastic voice call over my shoulder. Whisking my head around, I see it's Beck. A smile broadens at my lips.

"Hey. Grab some gloves. It gets messy here on out," I say, stupidly. I feel like smacking myself. Who says that?

Fortunately, Beck laughs and shoves it aside as if it never happened. Thankfully.

We each scrub dishes silently. I am standing breathtakingly close to him, but we still don't speak. I like to watch him work. He has this gentleness about him. When he scrubs a dish, his smooth hands grip the cloth and lace the edges of the plate gracefully.

I am so caught up in observing Beck that I forget I am working too. An ivory plate slips from my grasp and falls to the floor with a thud. It cracks, and sharp shards shear my exposed ankles. The shard draws blood and it sends a volt of pain up my leg.

"OW!" I shriek, falling onto the floor and landing on more shards.

"Amber! Are you ok?" Beck squeals. He lunges forward with an extended arm to pull me up. I intertwine my fingers with his as he yanks me upright. He's pulls me so swiftly that I lose my balance and fall into him.

"Whoa! Haha! You're more than a klutz than I had pegged a girl like you for," he says teasingly.

"This doesn't exactly happen often…" I can't meet his eyes.

"Ouch, that looks painful," he says, motioning at the gash on my ankle. "Sit down. I'll grab a plaster - um, do you know where those might be?"

I manage a weak chuckle. "They're in that drawer over there."

Beck briskly jogs to the medicine drawer and rummages for a plaster. He comes back with a humorous worried expression which makes me laugh.

"Dr. Beck is here to save the day. Extend your ankle. STAT!"

At this, I lift my leg and laugh undeniably hard. He unwraps the plaster and gently massages it across my wound.

"Another life saved by Dr. Beck." He says this while standing up with his fists on his hips in the superhero stance. "My prescription, fair lady, is on this card." He hands me a ripped napkin. "Though of course, you can't read it. I'm a doctor. I have terrible handwriting.

I laugh so hard I'm surprised milk doesn't begin to fly out of my nostrils.

"Why, thank you doctor," I say in the dialect of a damsel in distress. "I shall be sure to provide you with a token of my gratitude."

"Well, perhaps…" he begins slyly. "A kiss upon my cheek to thank for my services?"

"Ok, how did we get from emergency room doctors to renaissance royals?"

"I don't know…" he says perplexedly. "How about that payment now?"

I smile brightly and stand up, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. I completely forget that my ankle is throbbing, that I'm bleeding, that pain is shooting up my leg. Instead, I only focus on the fact that my lips are planted on Beck's soft, smooth cheek. A spark flies through my body, and I feel electricity circulate.

"Um… I have to… I have to go… bye…"

I dash out of the room without looking back - though there is still elation painted on my face.