I am walking on clouds. We are exploring the woods near the cabin, my hand in Amber’s, and I don’t want to forget a single moment. I will cherish this memory for a long time. She is relaxed and happy, free of the strains of living in the city among people and things she must please every hour of her life. Her hand is smaller than mine, but stronger, with callouses from the guitar and drums. I look at her profile and feel the urge to kiss her delicate cheekbones, but I manage to stop because if I kissed her whenever I wanted, she would be worn smooth like ocean pebbles by the waves.

“You are looking at me again.” Amber gives me her sly look from underneath her lashes. I think she knows exactly what I’m thinking. The little tease. 

“I’m looking at you because you have ketchup on your face,” I retort, giving our linked hands a small shake. Eyes widening, Amber stops in her tracks and starts rubbing her lips with her free hand. I’m shaking with laughter at her flustered face, but one look at her reddened lips swelling a little from her hand, my thoughts turn carnal. I lean in close, pressing an opened mouthed kiss on her chin. 

“Just kidding,” I breathe close to her lips, “It’s not ketchup, it’s actually honey. Honey from your sweetness.” I can’t believe I’m saying something like this. Very smooth. I must be out of my mind from breathing too much mountain air.  

At my cheesy attempt at flirting, she draws back a little to look at me. Seconds pass in silence, my face burning with embarrassment, and Amber bursts into laughter with her cheeks ballooning like a chipmunk’s. 

“Where did you hear a line like that?” She’s giggling in her high voice, snorting even. I try to scowl, but her delight is infectious and I’m smiling in spite of myself. The wretch. She always manages to turn the tables on me. 

“Awww, it was really cute. I loved it.” She stops and takes my face in her hands in a light caress before hugging me close. Amber is tart and sweet like citrus marmalade. I can never stay annoyed with her for long. 

“Here, let me make a flower crown for your hair.” She breaks away from our embrace — no, don’t go, just hold me close — and wanders to the nearby field of wild flowers. They are violet and yellow, and in the mountain’s shadow under the afternoon sun, the flowers form a small purple ocean swaying in the wind. 

We sit among the flowers and teach each other how to link the stalks to make a crown. The air is sweet here, and the flower petals are delicate soft in my hands. A deep breath, and I can smell the earth. I feel like I’ve always been a part of this place, and I suddenly want to draw Amber down and kiss her while the birds chirp their love songs around us. 

“Sing me a song,” I say instead. 

“Which one?” She’s preoccupied with weaving the purple flowers with the yellow.

“Anything — oh! What about the one you were working on earlier? It sounded like a ballad.” 

“I don’t have the lyrics for that one, yet. And I’m still working out the melody.” Amber shakes loose one flower a little too violently and the blossoms scatter around her. She sneezes when a petal lands on her nose. 

“It’s okay. Sing whatever’s finished. Please?” She huffs out a little breath as if deciding what to do, and pausing to gather the flowers around her, she scoots behind my back. Gathering my long hair in her hand, she starts braiding it, weaving the flowers into the tresses, humming her new song all the while.

Her sweet singing voice is silvery light, and I close my eyes to the feel of her fingers and voice playing gently on my body. 

Time passes. 

When I open my eyes again, I’m lying with my head in her lap. Amber is looking into the distance, lost in thought. At my stirring, she looks down at me, and begins to run her fingers down my flowery braid. Her face is lighter now, no longer pensive. 

“Hey, sleepyhead. Are you feeling cold?”

“I’m fine. Did I sleep long?” I sit up, and realize that the afternoon has waned. 

“Nah. Not too long. You want to head back to the cabin?” She helps me up, and I stretch to feel circulation returning to my limbs once again. 

I turn to look for the path back to our cabin when she grabs my hand to stall me. I look back to find her standing among the flowers with the sun illuminating her like a halo. She extends an arm to take my hand, and wordlessly slips something on my finger. It’s a flower ring, purple and yellow petals crowning the center. I am so touched by her simple gesture that I don’t know what to say.

“Sweeter than honey. That’s you.“ Amber says to me with her hand linked to mine, her thumb drawing gentle circles on my hand.