Guys! Hi! Here's chapter eighteen, which I've been meaning to write for ages but haven't had the time to do so due to school being a bitch and taking up all of my time.
Anywho, here it is. Enjoy, and let me know what you thought if you'd like. Thanks, Josie, X.
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Amber's POV
Darkness that stretched to the end of nowhere. Men, three of whom I did not know (not properly, anyway, though, I could certainly recognise them). Screaming - mine! No Drake. No more virginity. No more confidence. No more trust in men.
No more sleep.
"Mmm..." I murmured, forcing my eyes open as I felt a slight shaking on my arm ("Amber? Amber, wake up, please."). My groggy expression did not change overly as I looked at the person waking me, bar the slight dropping of my face.
"Can I talk to you... please?" Drake asked, looking at me with a sincere. I scrubbed my hands across my face and sat up, crossing my legs and placing the pillow I had been hugging in my lap. "I'm sorry." I didn't say anything, simply stared down at my fingers that I was twiddling in my lap. Drake's hand was suddenly on my fingers. "I shouldn't have... acted the way I did with you. I shouldn't have shouted, or, well, done any of the stuff I did, but... it hurt. Knowing that you thought I would do something like that really hurt. If you don't believe me, then, well, what else can I do but prove to you that I didn't? Anyways, yeah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, and I love you."
Before I could say anything, Drake's hand was gone, and so was he. I was left on the bed alone, with only the pillow and my thoughts. What was I thinking? This was Drake, the guy who had taken on three guys and saved me from being raped. This was the guy who had looked after me, let me stay with him, asked me out, and asked me to move in with: this was the man I was in love with. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't understand why I had doubted him in the first place; when it came to celebrities, the media was almost never right. With a gentle sigh, I placed the pillow down beside me and stood up, walking out of the room and downstairs. Drake wasn't there: not in the kitchen, nor the lounge. How could you be so stupid?, I scolded myself, The music room!, and then I set off up the stairs and towards the music room, knocking before I entered (though, I walked in straight away).
Sitting at the piano, Drake gently pressed the keys, the sounds being emitted barely a whisper his touch was so soft. I walked over to him, looking at him with pleading eyes and whispered "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," my voice betraying me, and croaking half way through, as I could no longer hold in the tears. Soon enough, I was enveloped in Drake's arms and pulled against his chest. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I muttered out constant 'sorry's in to his chest between gasps and sobs. Drake's arms held me tightly as I cried, comforting me, keeping me safe. After a while, I looked up through my tear-filled eyes to see tears silently falling down Drake's own cheeks. Without a second thought, I tip-toed slightly and pressed my lips to Drake's, kissing him. Our tears merged, making it impossible to be able to tell which belonged to whom, and bittersweet tears soon made their way in to the kiss, causing me to smile against his lips. "I love you, too." I uttered against Drake's mouth, barely moving to say it. Drake simply pulled me tighter against his body, kissing me harder in response. I all but melted in to his body, embracing every part of him, loving the sensation I got when any part of him was touching me.
We were laying in bed together by one forty five, wrapped up in one another's arms, and we were both, oh, so awake. For a such a ridiculous time of morning to be awake, neither of us could understand why we could not fall asleep. And so, as we both tried to think of reasons why, we lay in peace, thinking, until eventually we drifted off in to a light, comfortable lull.
* * *
"Drake!" "Amber!"
So, here we were at the press conference that Drake's agent had arranged, about answer all that they asked. And, well, they were like piranhas! They were viscous, hungry for anything, and had to be kept at arms length. Drake and I had been woken at half eight to be told about a press conference being arranged for eleven thirty, so she needed us at the location within the next two hours, which did not give us very long to get ready, as we soon discovered that the location was an hour and a half away. Drake said that we should just shower and eat, and that as long as we were clean and dressed, the rest could be sorted when we arrived, and that we would be made to look more than presentable.
I smiled as Drake's fingers slid down my hips and over the curve of my butt, where he gently squeezed, his fingers massaging at my fleshy behind. His chin was resting on my shoulder as I leant against his body, enjoying how it felt to be held by him in such a way.
"Such a beautiful body..." Drake muttered against my neck, pressing his lips to it gently.
"Talk about yourself." I drawled, tugging lightly on the curls at the nape of his neck, making him moan in to the soft skin at my neck. My hands trailed across his abs, my fingers crawling across his skin as I let my nails drag across the soft skin that had a light dusting of hair across it. I turned my head and kissed his ear lightly, grazing my teeth across the shell before sucking on the lobe.
"Oh, my God... Amber..." Drake panted out.
"Mmm," I moaned against his skin as I felt his fingers move and begin to circle, "Mmm! I... more..." I groaned, releasing his ear and letting my head fall back. "I... oh... ugh!" Drake's fingers soon began to crook and arch in all directions, scissoring and moving in such a perfect way. Oh, it was bliss...
"Head back, please." The make-up artist said, taking my chin in her thumb and forefinger. I leant my head back as she began to apply mascara to my eyelashes, and it took all I had not to blink or ask her to 'please remove herself from my bubble (which she had been invading for the past thirty minutes)'. So, with an internal sigh, I sat and let her finish off my make-up before I was sent to have one last check of my hair. Why they were making all this fuss I would never know, but Drake had said that it was just what they did, and that I could even laugh at him about having to wear make-up if it would make me feel better ("Yes, it would a little.").
"One at a time, please!" June demanded, her eyes stern.
Drake and I had been met by a short, skinny, and sharp, woman with ginger hair and a warm smile when we arrived at the location of the press conference. Instantly, we were rushed in to the building and sent in to different room to have our hair and make-up done. Before we knew what had happened, it was eleven fifteen, and we were sitting together in one room, going over what should and should not be said, what we should look out for, and how she should be careful when wording answers, as the paparazzi would try to twist and manipulate everything we said in to such a way that it would sell.
"Amber! Amber, how many times has he hit you?!" One obnoxious journalist asked, his voice loud and demanding.
Drake's POV
I felt Amber's hand clutch at my thigh, squeezing tightly, holding me down in place. "Don't," She whispered, letting her hand slip up my thigh to find my own hand. She linked our fingers together and squeezed my fingers. "I don't know who you are, b-"
"Sandra, reporting for Cosmo!" She cut in.
"Well, Sandra from Cosmo," Amber spat out the words like they were something distasteful and disgusting, "I was talking! And you know what, it's rude to interrupt someone when they're talking – especially when they're answering a question of yours! Now, if you don't mind,” Amber sat back down, speaking in to the microphone, and said “Drake has never hit me, or harmed me in any way, and I don't believe he would ever have any intention to do so, nor do I believe that he would ever hit a woman.”
Sandra did not reply.
A short, dark-haired guy in his twenties waved his hand about a little, saying “Andy, freelance,” before continuing when others were quiet; “If you don't believe the story is true, then what have you got to say to Lynn?”
Amber and I both shared looks before I leaned forward and said “I'd like to hope that she'll agree to sitting and talking about it like mature adults. No further comment,” keeping my voice as soft and calm as I could.
There was another hour of back and forth questions before someone asked a particularly hard question: “Drake, what drew you to Amber?”
That was a tough one. Nothing, in particular, had drawn me to Amber as such, she had just kind of... grown on me, I suppose you could say. I couldn't really explain it, she had just sort of appeared in my life, and it had felt strange to not have her in it. “Well, I'm not...” I looked at Amber, but she simply stared at the table we were sat at. “I can't really... pinpoint one particular thing, but I sup-” I stopped when Amber all but threw herself from her chair, running out of the room as fast as she could, throwing a stray apology behind her in her haste. I did not hesitate in following after her, and ran after her, following her in to the bathroom (unisex, don't worry, though I would have gone after her in to the ladies' in a heartbeat), and seeing her throw herself down to the floor, almost hugging the toilet bowl as she began to wretch. My hands were pulling her hair away and rubbing her back as she was sick, her body slumping back against mine when she was finally done.
"Babe, what is it, are you okay?" I asked, wrapping my arms around her, letting my fingers clutch her hand, squeezing as her body just completely melted in to me in a worn out sort of way. My lips planted a kiss in to her hair before she quickly pulled away from me, throwing her face over the toilet bowl and emptying what little could be left in her stomach - and some extra. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Amber finished, and then she simply rested her head against the side of the cubicle, her body shaking with silent sobs as she clutched at her stomach. "Amber?!" There was worry in my voice, "What is it? What's wrong? Babe, how can I help?" She wasn't answering, she was just leaning against the wall silently. Standing up, I unlocked the cubicle door, lifting Amber in to my arms and walking in to the space in front of the sinks and mirrors, looking her straight in the eye. "Amber!" She slowly turned towards me, looking up for a moment before pressing her face in to my chest and sobbing there heavily for a moment, and I couldn't blame her, because vomiting like that must have taken pretty much all of it out of her.
"Can we... can we go home... please?" Amber whispered as I sat on the floor with her cradled in my lap, trying to calm her down.
Nodding, I helped her in to a standing position before standing up myself and pulling her against my chest. I inhaled deeply, my head resting in her hair before I pulled her away from my body, looking in to her teary eyes and saying "You're okay, now, yeah?" My voice wavered slightly as I spoke, but I simply cleared my throat and wiped my thumbs under her eyes and across her cheeks, brushing the tears away. Taking one of the hand towels from the basket that sat on the bathroom counter beside the hand basins, I put a little water on it before gently wiping at Amber's face, cleaning away the mascara and other make-up that had run down her cheeks and gone around her eyes. She smiled a watery smile at me, and then I took her hand and we walked out of the bathroom to find June waiting outside. "Send them our apologies, but Amber isn't feeling too well, and I'm not going to risk her getting worse for the sake of a story. Thank you for setting this up."
Nodding, June said "Drake, I'm your agent, it's my job to help you with things like this, don't thank me." June then gestured for a security guard to come and show us out through the back exit, where my car would be waiting in a minute.