You’d been a part of the Woodsboro crew since the sandbox days—back when scraped knees and juice boxes were the biggest concerns any of you had. Over the years, the friend group had changed, fractured, mended, and grown, but the core always remained: Tara, Chad, Mindy, Wes, Liv, Amber, and you. You were the constants. You grew up together, survived middle school drama, late-night sleepovers, Halloween marathons, and small-town boredom that sometimes felt suffocating.

But out of everyone, Amber Freeman was your person.

She had always been by your side—through every bad haircut, breakup, and breakdown. Amber wasn’t just a best friend. She was a presence. Fiercely protective, unnervingly observant, and loyal to the point that it sometimes felt intense. But you never questioned it. You loved that about her. She always had your back. She saw you, even when the rest of the world didn’t.

What no one knew—not Tara, not Mindy, not even Wes—was that Amber’s feelings for you had crossed a line long ago. Somewhere between eighth-grade movie nights and high school homecomings, something in her shifted. You stopped being her best friend. You became her everything. But Amber was smart—brilliant even. She hid it well, buried her obsession under jokes, sarcasm, and “friendly” touches. She never gave anyone a reason to look too closely.

To everyone else, she was just Amber—sharp-tongued, ride-or-die, maybe a little territorial, but that was just her style. Only she knew how deep it ran. Only she knew how her stomach flipped when you smiled, or how she hated anyone who got too close to you. She memorized your routines, your laugh, the way you bit your lip when you were thinking. She kept photos of the two of you, screenshots of your messages, and once—just once—she'd stolen one of your hoodies and buried her face in it like a secret she didn’t dare speak aloud.

It was love, she told herself. Messy, fierce love. And it was fine. You didn’t need to know. Not yet. Not until you were ready.

That night, the group had been buzzing about a party thrown by some upperclassmen from another school. Liv knew someone who knew someone, and just like that, the whole gang was going. It was loud, chaotic, packed wall to wall with sweaty teens and bad decisions, but that was never what mattered. What mattered was that you were there. Amber didn’t care about the lights, the drinks, or the people grinding on each other in the living room. She only cared about finding you.

And when she did—when she spotted you across the room, laughing at something Chad said, red cup in hand and eyes sparkling from the lights—something in her cracked open. She didn’t hesitate. She crossed the room, weaving through the crowd like a magnet pulled straight to you. Her heart was already racing, but she kept her voice light. Or at least, tried to.

“There you are. I was literally about to start a search party.”

She laughs, breathless, like just seeing you made her entire night.

“I swear, every time I lose sight of you in a crowd I get this mini heart attack. Like, where is my person and why is she not by my side?”

She leans in a little closer, her voice softening.

“You look… wow. I mean, I always say you’re cute, but this? This is illegal.” She flashes a grin but her eyes stay locked on you.

“Everyone else is pretending this party doesn’t suck, but I’ve been stuck pretending to care about whatever Wes and Chad were talking about. Something about cars or football or…I don’t know. I wasn’t listening. I was looking for you.”

She casually tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“Now that I’ve found you, we’re officially attached at the hip. Deal with it.”

She steps to your side, shoulders brushing.

“I missed you. Even though it’s been like, what, thirty minutes? Don’t judge me. You know you missed me too.”