A FROZEN NIGHT: A ROMANCING THE PAGE STORY

Laura Ambrose

Copyright Laura Ambrose 2018

Cover Art: Shutterstock; Design: Craig Lam
Penglass Publishing

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any
manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of
brief quotations in a book review.

Contents

A Frozen Night
Thank You for Reading
About the Author & Other Work
 A Frozen Night: A Romancing the Page Story:
A Prequel Short Story to A Hidden Hope

Five Years Ago:

Natalie looked at the alert on her phone with a mixture of despair and cautious excitement.
She glanced at her friend Elena, or El for short, giving her a rueful grin. “I’m trapped here
until tomorrow.”
El’s eyebrows rose as she leaned on the table, her fingertip tracing designs in the
condensation of the beer glass. El had been in front of Natalie in real life all day, and the other
girl still took Natalie’s breath away as much as a few hours earlier.
This was the first day they’d spent together, but Natalie and El were not strangers.
They’d met on an online writing forum over a year ago, exchanging snippets of prose
despite the fact they wrote different genres. El was literary and Natalie was science fiction and
fantasy. Natalie had finished her first manuscript and had sent her query letter off to eight agents
three days ago. Yet she knew writing was a long con, so she’d come to Boston to check out
colleges. She may or may not have chosen Massachusetts as a not-so-subtle excuse to finally
meet El face to face.
She’d gotten off the plane and spotted El almost immediately. Her stomach had dipped like
she’d gone down the first plunge of a roller coaster. Turned out that cliché was true. She’d gone
up, all shy, as if she hadn’t spent hundreds, thousands of hours chatting back and forth with this
beautiful stranger. El was even better looking than in photographs. Skin pale with the Boston
winter, dark-framed glasses, dark hair that tumbled over her forehead. A beautiful square jaw,
high cheekbones, eyes a brilliant dark blue, like the early night sky. El was lanky and a good six
inches taller than Natalie. She wore an unbuttoned winter coat, showing a form-fitting dark navy
t-shirt, jeans that hugged strong thighs, and sturdy boots.
El held her arms out, and Natalie had gone to them. “Hey there, stranger,” she’d whispered
into El’s shoulder, far too aware of the swell of El’s small breasts somewhere in the region of
Natalie’s collarbones. El smelled good, like lemon and clean skin. She wanted to lean into the
other girl and never let go.
“Hey yourself,” El had said, laughter coloring her voice.

They were awkward together, walking an arm’s distance apart, bodies angled towards each
other. El kept rubbing her hands together, and it’d been so cute, Natalie couldn’t stand it. Her
long-banked crush kindled to a fire.
El kept glancing at Natalie out of the corner of her eye, and Natalie wondered if she
matched the other girl’s expectations. She’d only sent El a few photos, and none had been very
good. It wasn’t that she was uncomfortable with her appearance, but it hadn’t seemed important
when they were only critique partners. Natalie was shorter, curvier than El. She wore round
glasses (yes, almost Harry Potter-ish). She owned a veritable arsenal of nerdy t-shirts that she
always paired with jeans and Converse. Today, she wore a Wonder Woman tee underneath her
bulkiest sweater for strength, and her long, dark brown hair was up in a messy bun from the
flight. It was still only ten in the morning in Boston. Her flight from Austin had been delayed,
making the already red flight even redder. They’d have to hurry if they wanted to hit both
campuses today. She didn’t feel cute at the moment.
Did El think she was cute anyway?
Natalie knew El liked girls, and El knew Natalie was bi. Yet they’d been so careful to keep
their online interactions more or less platonic. There might have been some flirting. A lot of
flirting. Please, let it have been flirting.
Natalie smoothed her own shaking hands down the front of her puffy coat she’d bought for
this trip. She’d never need it in Austin.
When El next glanced at her, Natalie adjusted her glasses and licked her lips. El’s eyes
widened in response, and Natalie bit back a smile. That was something.
“You kept it quiet you were this much taller than me,” Natalie quipped.
“You kept it quiet you were such a shorty,” El said with an easy smile.
This is so strange, Natalie thought as she climbed into the old beater El had bought second-
hand. Maybe even third-hand. Natalie had flown out to Boston to look at colleges, sure, but how
much of that had been because El was here? Natalie had taken a few years off after high school.
She didn’t know what to study and didn’t want to jump in because all her other friends were
doing so. She worked at a bookstore thirty hours a week, and wrote on the side. But it was hard
not to feel like life was passing her by. She had to choose the right school for her, not only a
school who might be near her friend/critique partner/crush. She needed to study something
practical to keep the cash rolling in while she didn't give up on her daydream.
El was going to bring Natalie to the University of Massachusetts’ Boston open day. El went
to Harvard and was almost finished with a degree in classics, which was as pretentious as it
sounded. As the car indicated, El wasn’t a rich girl though—she was a scholarship student. El
had that weird experience of trying to fit in around peers raised with everything they could hope
for while she had made herself Chef Boyardee while her mom worked nights as a nurse.
The first university was nice enough, but they only stayed for an hour. She felt weird
dragging El around, though the other girl didn’t seem to mind. They drove to the School of Art &
Design for the same thing again. They finished at half past two in the afternoon. Natalie’s flight
home wasn’t until ten at night. She’d done a day trip so she wouldn’t have to shell out for a hotel
room.
Long way to come for one day, El had typed at her when she’d booked the flight.
Long way to come for college, Natalie had replied. El had sent back an enigmatic emoji.
“I have a plan for the rest of the day, if you’re up for it,” El said when they’d finished,
Natalie laden with prospectuses. Prospectii?
“What sort of plan?” Natalie asked, a little teasing.
“You like surprises,” El said with a wicked grin that gave Natalie that roller coaster loop
again.
They’d been sending each other little packages over the last few months. Silly things:
handwritten letters, battered paperbacks from second-hand book stores, figurines, finger puppets.
Nothing too romantic, but Natalie had to admit it was a little weird. Friends didn’t spend weeks
and weeks planning a package with carefully non-romantic yet super thoughtful gifts, did they?
Yet neither of them had ever admitted to this being anything other than a curiously close
friendship. A surprise evening spent around Boston, though—that sounded like a date.
They left the College of Art and Design and El drove towards downtown, navigating the
traffic with ease. There was something so fascinating about El’s face, as the lights reflected from
the snow played over her features. She was androgynous, a little butch but still feminine with the
cut of her jeans, the metal studs in her ears. El pointed out the Museum of Fine Arts as they
passed it and then drove along the Park towards the water.
Natalie wanted to ask where they were going, but judging by El’s sly, little smile, she
wouldn’t answer. The streets were so different to the hazy heat and sprawl of Austin. The
buildings were older out here on the East Coast, the buildings higher. She liked it though, even if
the cold seeped into her bones. It was a city where she could imagine herself living. Wrapped up
warm, books slung over her shoulder, going to one of the colleges—to be honest, whichever
offered her the most scholarship money. She’d liked them both. The larger university might be a
better option, in case she did change her mind about her major of graphic design.
El pulled into a parking garage. Natalie dug for her wallet but El waved her away and tossed
the ticket on the dash.
“Come on,” El said. “Let’s go exploring.”
Natalie followed the other girl, nervous, excited. El walked so confidently, hands in her
pockets, head up high. The snow was thick on the ground. Natalie had only seen snow a few
times before, and all day she’d—mostly—resisted the urge to dip down and pick up a handful in
mittened hands. She wanted to throw a snowball at El, but stopped herself. If they were going
inside somewhere, it wouldn’t do for them both to appear drenched and half-frostbitten.
They made their way down Beacon Street. Bundled people hurried through the dimming
winter light. On their right was a park, filled with a few determined runners that made her cold to
look at them. To their left was the Massachusetts State House, a grand, neo-Classical building of
bricks and white columns topped with a snow dusted golden dome. Everything felt a little bit like
a fairy tale.
“Here we are,” El said a moment later, gesturing to another neoclassical, almost brutalist
grey stone building.
“The Boston Athenaeum.”
“You’re bringing me to a library,” Natalie laughed. “Of course you are.”
“Best place to bring a bookworm, right?” She gave Natalie a half-smile with one dimple that
made her weak. El’s dark blue eyes were bright behind the dark glasses.
They stepped inside the ornate foyer, shaking the snow from their coats and taking off their
glasses and cleaning them on their shirts. Glasses—always fogging when coming in from the
cold or splattered with raindrops. Natalie looked at El, only able to make out the dark smudge of
her hair, the shadow of her cheekbone. She was like a dream, a mirage that would disappear.
Natalie slid on her glasses, El coming back into focus.
“Come on,” El said. “I’m a member.”
“You’re going to give me a tour?” Natalie grinned.
“Of course,” she said. “I take my duties as a Bostonian very seriously.” She let the Boston
accent creep into her words, shortening the vowels.
“Well, alrighty then, partner,” she said, dialing up her own Texas accent.
El held out her elbow. “Shall we?”
Natalie threaded her arm through the other girl’s. This was definitely a date. Right?
It was the first time she’d touched El since their hug at the airport. She checked her phone.
Three hours until she had to leave for the airport and fly back to Austin. She was going to make
the most of it.
El took her duty as a guide seriously, telling her bits about the history of the oldest
independent library in the country. She listened, but more to the sound of El’s voice as it dipped
and rose reciting the litany of dates. The library was gorgeous, and quiet this close to closing
time. El brought Natalie to the iconic main room. The arched, white ceiling lead to columns that
doubled as two-story stacks. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting everything in a warm,
yellow glow. Their footsteps echoed as they walked the length of the room, taking in the delicate
chaise sofas, the long tables, the busts of sober men carved of marble.
“So…where’s the science fiction and fantasy section?” Natalie asked, grinning up at El.
“They do have some, actually, but it’s mostly in the children’s and young adult section.”
“You went looking?” she said, eyebrows raised.
“You may have lured me a time or two to the dark side of dragons and witches and
spaceships.”
“My job here is done.”
“Have I convinced you to read The Vegetarian or Homegoing yet?”
“Nope, sorry. I’m sure they’re fantastic, but I like my spaceships.’
“And yet you’re unwilling to branch out to my world.” Her tone was teasing, and Natalie
jousted back.
“I promise, I’ll get to them eventually. But for now, leave me to my imagined worlds!”
It was a little strange, to think that if they both had books published in their respective
genres, El might end up with a copy in here, but she wouldn’t. Natalie realized her maybe-date
hadn’t quite considered that, dismay dawning on El’s face.
“This place is beautiful,” she said, leaning into the other girl. “I’m glad you took me.”
“Next stop,” El said. “We might have enough time before it closes.”
“Where are you taking me this time?”
“No spoilers. Wait and see.” She leaned close enough Natalie could feel the breath on her
cheek. If she turned a few millimeters, their lips would touch. She held her breath. If she was just
a little braver, she’d kiss El.
Yet Natalie was not brave.
They wandered through Granary Burying Ground, which they had viewed from the
Athenaeum. Natalie loved graveyards. She'd go to the sweltering ones in Austin, walking along
the sunbaked ground and reading the bleached gravestones, pale as bones. Texas and its blood-
drenched history. She liked to borrow names from gravestones and weave them into her stories.
She'd sit beneath the pecan trees and wonder what the lives of the bones below her had been like.
Who they'd loved, who they'd hated, who and what they'd feared. What did they dream about?
How did they die? Where were they now?
When she’d told El about her graveyard sojourns, the other girl started doing it, too. They’d
take photos of particularly good names and message them to each other. Francis Pryor. Augustus
Temple. There were headstones of weeping angels, some in the shape of Texas, or copper reliefs
of men holding guns. So many Lone Stars. In Boston, the headstones were older, crumbling.
Some had skulls and crossbones, or skulls with wings. Some were so faded the deads’ names
were lost to time.
El and Natalie wandered through the graveyard as the last of the light fled. The Old Granary
Burial Ground had many old Revolutionaries. They saw Paul Revere’s grave, Samuel Adams,
John Hancock. Phillis Wheatley, the first African-American woman to publish a book. So much
history carved into stone and laid into the ground.
They were pensive as they left the graves. El led them to a little cocktail bar she knew
nearby. It was pretty hipster, with exposed brick walls and light a little too low. At least it wasn’t
overcrowded and it was nice and warm after the cold graveyard. They tucked themselves into a
little corner and ordered burgers and beer. Natalie chose a random craft lager and hoped for the
best.
Snow swirled outside, coming down thicker. “The snow becomes a pain, doesn’t it?”
Natalie asked as she eyed the flurries.
“Yeah, it is, but I don’t get tired of it. Even when it turns all grey and slushy. I like how
everything sounds so silent and muffled when it’s just snowed, and how crisp the air is.”
“You wouldn’t be able to cope with Austin heat.”
“Definitely not. It can get hot here in the summer, but nothing like there. I don’t know how
you can stand it.”
“I like how hazy the horizon gets. How the sun warms the leaves and the grass. I prefer it
when the heat is dry rather than muggy. Don’t know. It’s the feeling of home. This would take
some getting used to.”
“Somewhere that isn’t home always does.”
Their beers arrived. “To new futures,” El said, raising her glass.
Natalie clinked it, feeling a little self-conscious. “To new futures.” She drank deep, the
bubbles popping along her tongue. The beer was good, whatever it was. El’s column of her neck
moved as she downed her beer, and Natalie licked her lip, thirsty for something else. Something
more.
“Have you been writing?” Natalie asked as they settled deeper in their seats, hoping her
naked admiration wasn’t too obvious on her face. “You haven’t sent me anything in a while.”
The last thing El had sent her had been beautifully written, but nothing had happened in it. It
was a scene of a girl and a boy on a hill, overlooking the small town where they’d grown up.
They never said a word, but they communicated in lingering looks, in creating daisy chains and
sculptures of flowers. There was no ending. They left their flowers beneath a tree and the scene
ends before going back or turning away from the town. Natalie found it lovely and frustrating.
El’s work could be deliberately opaque, as if it was playing a joke on her she didn’t get.
She’d urged El time and again to try and balance the prose with a story, but the other girl
never quite listened. Natalie had tried weaving in some literary techniques to her own work and
found it the better for the experimentation. She kept daring El to write some genre, add a few
elves or a mage and see what happened. So far, her critique partner hadn’t taken her up on it.
Afraid of stepping on your toes, El had always chatted back with a little smiley face.
Yet literary fiction had the same genre expectations and clichés. She didn’t write about fifty
something professors debating over hundreds of pages whether to sleep with their young, nubile
student. So at least that was something. If El ever tried, Natalie would reach through the screen
and shake her.
“I’m taking a break,” El said, and something caught in her smile.
“Everything all right?” Natalie asked, concerned.
“It’s fine, just busy with school. I’ll get back to a project in the summer, I’m sure. Sorry I
haven’t had anything to share with you. You’re still welcome to send me your stuff though. I
love reading it. How goes The Golden Moon?”
 The Golden Moon was Natalie’s first fantasy book, the one she’d sent out. El had been an
invaluable beta reader, offering insights to Natalie’s inconsistent plotting or characterization.
Natalie had sent her the latest draft and she’d declared it ready to go. Natalie felt it was as good
as she could make it, but El’s echoing her sentiments helped her gather the courage to actually
send it out.
“I’ve started querying,” Natalie said, shyly.
El leaned forward, eyes widening behind the glasses. “Why didn’t you tell me first thing!
That’s wonderful. How’s it going so far?”
That was partly why she hadn’t said anything. Natalie hadn’t planned on telling anyone. If
no one knew, then when the literary agents all rejected her, she wouldn’t have to admit it. She
wouldn’t have people asking if she’d heard, the pitying look in their eyes when she said “not yet,
but hopefully soon.”
“Sorry,” El said. “I won’t ask for status updates. You tell me when you have something you
want to share. Deal?”
She smiled with relief. “Deal. And no, I haven’t heard back yet, but it’s only been like, three
days. Agents are busy.”
Their talk moved onto other things. They finished their burgers when they arrived and
polished off the beers. Natalie ordered another, but El stopped after her half pint, since she’d be
driving back to the airport.
Then Natalie’s phone pinged.
She picked it up, anxious. What if it was an agent, emailing back to say no, not for us. Or to
say yes and request the full manuscript. Then what would she do? She hadn’t bothered bringing
her laptop just for a day trip to Boston. Her heartbeat raced. She blinked, too fast, breath coming
shorter.
El reached over and touched her hand, and her heart sped up for a different reason.
“Sorry, anxiety’s been next level. Every sound from my phone and I’m twitchy as it gets.”
“Understandable. I’d be the same, if I could ever finish anything.”
“You’ll finish something and it’s going to be amazing. Publishing won’t know what hit it.”
She bent over her phone. “Oh.”
El sucked in a breath. “What?”
“Nothing to do with agents. But my flight’s cancelled.”

A few phone calls to the airline later, and Natalie was still out of luck. The snow had turned
into a blizzard and all planes were grounded until tomorrow.
“Will you put me up in a hotel?” she asked the workers at the airline help desk, and they
hmmed and haahed before agreeing to find her a cheap motel out by the airport. When she hung
up, she looked at reviews on Yelp and blanched. It looked like the Bates motel, and there was a
plethora of one stars.
El looked over Natalie’s shoulder and shook her head. “Ugh, no way. Come back with me. I
can’t pretend my apartment’s super clean right now, but it’s a hell of a lot cosier and you won’t
have to worry about getting bed bugs.”
Natalie bit her lip. “Are you sure?” She knew El, she wasn’t afraid to go back to her because
she was a friend on the internet. Natalie was nervous for other reasons. Close quarters. Private.
And houses were personal. By seeing how El decorated her place, what pictures were on the
wall, she’d have more insight into the other girl. She still wasn’t sure what was between them. A
hug, a brush of the hand. All had been chaste so far, but El’s eyes were deep, the pupils wide. An
unasked question hung between them, begging for an answer.
“Yes,” Natalie said. “I’ll go back with you.”

They drove back to El’s apartment, which was close to Harvard, but not on campus.
“It’s not fancy,” she warned. “But my sofa is pretty comfortable, and the place runs really
warm. The neighbors underneath keep the heating on full blast at all times, so I don’t even have
to put on the heater that often. Thank god.”
Natalie rubbed her hands together under their woolen mittens. They walked up a cramped
hallway and El unlocked her door. It was an unassuming, blue, her name printed neatly above the
peephole.
“Come on in,” she said. “Want a tea? Coffee?”
“God yes, a tea sounds so good right now.” The two beers had helped warm her up, but she
didn’t want any more alcohol.
El hadn’t lied. Her place was tiny, but also cute. The narrow living room was taken up with
a sofa and a thin coffee table straining under the weight of academic books. A tall, narrow
bookcase overflowed with—of course—literary fiction, but she did spy a few genre books she’d
forced El to buy or gifted to her. N.K. Jemsin. Ursula le Guin. Ann Leckie. Gene Wolfe. The
more literary end of the spectrum. She’d get El in the end. She was going to recommend Robin
Hobb next. The sofa had a nice, fuzzy blanket, and there were framed photos of geometrical
prints on the walls. It was sparse, but also so very El.
El’s kitchen was like a ship’s cabin. She put the kettle on the stove and took out two chipped
mugs. “What kind of tea? I have green, chamomile, and black. Oh, and ginger and lemon.”
“Ginger and lemon, please,” Natalie said, smiling at her. El seemed nervous having Natalie
here, her movements quick and jerky. She’d seemed so suave online, always knowing what to
say. But then, online they could both could self-edit, think about what to say before replying. She
liked El a little unsure in the moment. It made Natalie feel braver.
El set the steaming mug on the coffee table, moving some books out of the way. Natalie
shimmied out of her huge jacket, hanging it up by the door along with her dripping mittens and
hat. She wrestled with her boots. Natalie had worn mismatched socks. Her toes curled with
embarrassment.
She settled onto the sofa, covering her damp legs with the fuzzy blanket and picking up the
mug. Her hands warmed, and the steam was comforting. El came into the living room, leaning
against a wall and taking a sip from her own mug. The sofa was the only seat.
Natalie shifted over and patted the area next to her, her heartbeat rising. El hadn’t made any
overtures. She’d caught lingering looks, given El some in return, but did that mean anything?
Was her crush she’d nursed, slowly but surely, over the course of the last year and a half only
one sided? She watched El’s throat as she sipped more tea. She wanted to trace the column with
her fingertips. Push her back. Learn everything about the other girl's body.
Though the conversation had flowed well at the restaurant, words now seemed stuck in her
throat. She was in El’s house, El’s space. Had El sat on this sofa, chatting with Natalie on that
battered laptop on the small counter of the kitchen? Had El read Natalie's words, bit her lip as
she tried to decide what to say back? Had she been as swept away by Natalie’s stories as Natalie
had enjoyed El's beautiful way with words? Nothing but questions swirled through Natalie’s
mind. Unanswerable.
“I hadn’t thought this far ahead,” El said. She rubbed the back of her neck with her hand.
Natalie found it unrealistically cute. Almost boyish but so girly at the same time.
“What do you mean?” Natalie asked.
“I don’t know. I like to plan things. I’d planned the library. I’d hoped to squeeze in a
museum, but there wasn’t time. I’d planned the restaurant, knowing it wouldn’t be too loud to
speak or too crowded. By now I thought you’d go back to the airport and we’d go back to
speaking online. I’d always wonder what could have happened if you stayed longer. Now I have
that, and I still don’t know what’s happening next.”
Her mouth went dry. “What do you mean?” she asked again.
El set down her mug. “I don’t know. Never mind. I don’t think this is the time.”
Natalie leaned closer to her. Could she finally be brave? “Because if I don’t feel the same
way, you think it wouldn’t be fair because I’m trapped at yours in a snowstorm?”
“Yes. Wait. What?” El looked at her, wary and hopeful in equal measure.
“You’re clueless,” Natalie said. Taking a deep breath, she closed the distance between them.

For a moment, they froze, both shocked at what they'd done. What they couldn't take back.
Then El’s hands came up to Natalie’s chin and she opened her lips.
Natalie had kissed plenty of people, but this. This was different. Her whole body came alive.
Her whole body sang. She slid her tongue into El’s mouth, desperate for more. Their glasses
pressed together, and they laughed against each other’s lips. They drew back for a moment,
panting. Wordless glances passed between them, as if to ask: are you sure?
Natalie look off her glasses, placing them on top of one of El’s Latin books. She reached out
and took El’s off. Her face looked different without them. A little more vulnerable. She couldn’t
hide behind their glare, and neither could Natalie. El was blurry as a waking dream.
Natalie opened her mouth but didn’t know what to say. El seemed likewise taken aback. Her
breath came raggedly. In that moment, she looked so young.
El started to speak, but Natalie pressed a fingertip against her lips, wet from kissing.
She didn’t want to say anything anymore. If they spoke about what was happening, the spell
would break.
She kissed El again. The skin of her cheek was soft, her hair silky, curling at the ends.
Tangling her fingers in it, she shifted closer to her crush, pressing her torso against El’s. Her
breasts were high, firm, different to Natalie’s fuller ones. She wanted to squeeze them, taste
them. El gasped, and her hands rested tentatively on her waist. Natalie’s shirt shifted up, and
there were El’s fingertips on her skin, still cool from the snow outside. She gasped against El’s
lips.
Natalie had never been kissed like this. Pushing El back against the sofa, Natalie straddled
her, amazed at her daring. She knew that El would be wet already, just like she was. She
wriggled.
“Oh God,” El gasped, and Natalie laughed against her mouth.
 Still marveling, Natalie moved her lips from El’s and kissed where the jaw met the neck.
Then she moved lower, finally trailing her lips along the column of El’s throat like she’d wanted
to, feeling the pulse jump beneath the other girl’s skin as she hissed in a breath through her teeth.
Outside, the wind rose, rattling the panes of the window. The world outside looked like
nothing but static. It felt like that world had disappeared. They were the only two people here,
and nothing else existed. They were inside a snow globe, outside of time.
El’s skin was paler than Natalie’s, like snow in pre-dawn pink light. Natalie felt the muscles
underneath El’s skin from hours of running along trails. This close, Natalie could see flecks of
darker blue in El’s eyes.
El’s hand slid up Natalie’s back, under her shirt. “Is this OK?” El whispered.
“Yes,” Natalie said, running her own hands along El’s stomach beneath her t-shirt. She
wanted to see her.
“Sit up,” Natalie commanded, peeling off the offending piece of clothing.
Her body. So different to how Natalie had imagined, countless times alone in bed, a little
guilty as she touched herself and thought of El. Not knowing if she felt the same. She wore a
simple black bra, and her skin was so smooth, so toned. She had a line running down the middle
of her stomach, and Natalie traced it with her finger. Feeling shyer now, Natalie traced the line of
the other girl’s collarbones. El’s eyes closed, then opened wide. As if she could bear the
delicateness no longer, El reached up and crushed Natalie’s mouth to hers.
Natalie gasped, and El’s tongue dove into her again, claiming her. She tasted like lemon and
ginger tea. So warm against the cold outside.
El’s hands came to the bottom of Natalie’s sweater, and Natalie raised her arms above her
head. El broke the kiss long enough to pull the other girl’s shirt over her head, so hard the fabric
might have stretched. Natalie didn’t care. El gazed down at Natalie in her bra, amazed.
“Beautiful,” she whispered. El’s shaking finger came up to the point between her
collarbones. Then, she swirled lower, right by Natalie's heart, at the swell of her breast.
Natalie moved her hand lower. She was so glad she’d decided to wear nice underwear, in a
secret hope she hadn’t quite been able to admit to herself. She’d chosen a peach satin matching
pair, and it looked nice against her golden skin. El cupped her breasts as if they were something
precious, one hand pinching her nipple through the fabric. Natalie gasped.
El’s hands danced along her ribs then moved around to the clasp of her bra.
“OK?” she asked.
Natalie nodded. “More than OK. But I uh, feel I should tell you something.”
El leaned back, hesitating.
“I’m a virgin,” Natalie said.
El’s mouth opened, closed. “Come again?” she squeaked.
“I still need to come the first time,” Natalie said, and El was startled into a laugh.
“But this—I—” she sputtered. “I’m um, not.”
“That’s fine. Then you’ll know what to do. You’ll have to show me.” She felt shy and bold
in equal measure. “I want this. I want you.”
El opened her mouth again, but Natalie cut her off.
“Yes, I’m sure. Now, are you going to kiss me again or what?”
El did. She was gentle, then firmer. Her hands unclasped Natalie’ bra on the first try. It took
Natalie a little longer to un-do El’s. Natalie was nervous—El had done this before. She knew
what to do. But what if Natalie was bad at this? What if she disappointed her?
 Nothing to do but try. Natalie moved her hand to El’s belt. They had only tonight. Who
knew what would happen after?
She undid the other girl’s belt, leather slithering along denim. Natalie’s bra was loose
around her torso. Carefully, so carefully, El peeled it off before shrugging out of her own bra.
They paused, taking each other in. El’s small breasts were tipped in palest pink. Natalie’s
own nipples were tawnier.
“Wow,” El said.
Natalie blushed, then laughed at herself. “Oh god, I’m literally a blushing maiden.”
“A girl right out a fantasy tale,” El agreed.
“That was really cheesy.”
It was El’s turn to blush.
Natalie unzipped El’s jeans, and El did the same. They wriggled from their jeans, a little
awkward. El helped peel Natalie’s off, her fingers leaving hot trails in their wake. Natalie was
glad she’d shaved that morning, again, just in case. El had, too, and bothered with matching
black underwear. Natalie took in the sight of El’s long legs, licking her lips. She was ready to see
all of the other girl. To taste her. To have her.
Natalie hooked her finger around the side of El’s underwear and started bringing them
down. El bit her lip, raising her hips to help. She was beautiful. Shyly, Natalie touched the inside
of El’s thigh. El sat up, taking off Natalie’s peach satin. There was nowhere to hide.
El’s lips went to Natalie’s neck—sucking, nibbling, licking. She moved to Natalie’s
collarbone, then down to her right breast, taking her nipple in her mouth.
Natalie moved her hips against El, amazed by the feeling of warm skin against warm skin.
El’s hands moved lower. With a finger, she touched Natalie, light as a feather, against her clit.
Natalie’s whole body jerked. She was ready. Her nerves were on fire, her nipples sensitive
against El’s tongue. El dipped a finger into her, and Natalie let out a low moan.
El’s mouth moved lower, lower. Was she really going to . . . ?
“Tell me what you like. Like this?”
“Yes. This.”
El kissed her stomach, her hip. She parted Natalie’s legs, nibbled the inside of her thighs.
Then she went down.
She had done this before.
Natalie had imagined this, dreamed of it, read more than her share of renditions of it in
romance novels and fanfic, but the reality of it was so much better. El’s mouth was warm,
expertly bringing her passion higher. Her tongue swirled around Natalie’s clit and then one
finger was inside, then two, angled up to hit her g-spot. It didn’t take long for Natalie feel herself
drawing towards a climax, her muscles tensing. Could it happen so fast?
With another twist of a clever tongue, Natalie came. She closed her eyes tight, knowing she
was making noises, moans, and utterly un-selfconscious in that moment.
As the last ebbs had fled, she laid there, spent.
“Hah, are you all right?” El asked.
“I’m still coming back down to earth. Oh my god.”
El laughed. “You’re doing wonders for my confidence.”
Natalie blinked, forcing herself to come back to the real world. Her whole body tingled.
This was the calmest and most relaxed she’d felt in ages. But she wasn’t finished.
“Is tribbing an actual thing, or is it just in porn?” Natalie asked.
 El laughed. “I’ve done it before. It feels nice, but for me it doesn’t go anywhere. Want to
give it a go?”
Natalie was still too sensitive. “Not yet,” Natalie said. “I . . . want to taste you. I might not
be as good, but I’m willing to practice.”
El’s eyebrows rose and she smirked. “You’ve always been a quick study. I’m sure you’ll be
fine.”
Natalie moved between El’s legs, and she explored her. Touching lightly, so lightly, that El
squirmed beneath her. Having this sort of power over someone else was intoxicating. She
pressed the palm of her hand against El’s mound, and El’s movements rose to meet the pressure,
moaning.
Natalie moved her palm away and tried two fingers, like El had done. Then she leaned
forward and tasted.
El’s legs came around her shoulders, and the world disappeared. Natalie concentrated on the
sounds, the buck of the other girl’s hips, trying to urge her towards the same pleasure. When El
came, Natalie moved away, watching the other girl’s face. She’d helped create that.
El lay splayed, dazed. Natalie licked her lips, still tasting her. Shyly, she moved to El’s side.
The taller girl drew Natalie to her. Natalie rested her head on El’s chest and El’s arms encircled
her. With one leg over El’s, they fit together. El’s heart was still beating fast.
El kissed the top of Natalie’s head. “Hi,” she said, her fingers trailing down Natalie’s side in
lazy swirls. “I hope your first time did not disappoint.”
“Hello,” Natalie said. “I still can’t think.”
“You have goose bumps.” It was cold, on top of the covers. El drew the comforter up, until
they were in a small cocoon of warm and naked limbs.
They didn’t speak after that. They lay there, spent, replete. El stroked Natalie’s hair, and
despite what had happened, she felt a clenching between her legs all the same.
I could love her, Natalie thought as she closed her eyes. If I don’t already.

A text woke Natalie early the next morning. Her new flight would take off in three hours. It
was time to go.
She was warm in the nest of blankets. El was curled up against her back, naked and smelling
of her shampoo and the barest hint of sweat and sex.
They’d done it. They’d actually done it.
She’d slept with her critique partner.
Natalie slid out of the beautiful warmth, gathering up her clothes. There wasn’t time for a
shower. She found her underwear. Got dressed. El didn’t stir. She watched the other girl’s
sleeping face. The shape she made beneath the covers. That clever girl, who wrote such beautiful
words, who knew Natalie’s dreams better than anyone else.
Natalie made coffee, the rich smell filling the small apartment. She brought El a cup, and
her eyes fluttered open. El sat up, the cover falling away to reveal her breasts. Milk, no sugar—
how she liked it.
“I have to go back to the airport,” Natalie whispered.
Her head fell back against the headboard. “Shit.”
“Three hours.”
 El pursed her lips. “Should only take about half an hour with traffic. We might have time.”
“For what?”
El put her coffee aside. “What do you think?”
Natalie felt she improved again that morning. They tried different positions, different tricks
with their hands. They even tried tribbing, for a few minutes, and Natalie agreed that it felt nice
and was good foreplay, it would be too frustrating to get anywhere.
After, they dressed (or re-dressed, in Natalie’s case) in a hurry, finishing their now-tepid
coffee.
And then it was time to go.
They were quiet on the drive back to the airport. Everything was different now. Once they
signed back into chat, they wouldn’t be able to go back to being only critique partners, would
they? But the distance was far, and September was a long way away. They should keep it casual
until Natalie moved here. If she did. There were no guarantees she’d even get into either of these
colleges, or if they’d be the right fit for her. It’d be cheaper by far to stay in Austin. Less debt.
But maybe El could try and find a job in Texas?
She kept her lips pressed shut tight against the questions. All too soon, they’d parked.
Natalie had checked in, and they were at the security gate. She needed to go—boarding had
already begun. Their lives would diverge. El would go back to Harvard and her endless essays
and long hours in the library. Natalie would wait for emails and letters—from the agents she’d
queried for her book, for the acceptances or rejections from universities. She’d keep working at
the bookstore, part-time, clocking the hours, saving what money she could.
Writing, dreaming, waiting for that notification on her computer that El had come online.
“Where do we go from here?” she asked.
“Wherever we want, Nat,” El replied.
Natalie kissed El again, careless of the crowd around them. Last night was still a dream,
captured in a snow globe. Moments outside of her usual life.
Natalie pulled away from the kiss. Turning her back on El was hard. Natalie forced herself
to take one step. Then another. The line inched towards the metal detectors, and she turned back.
El had stayed, hands in her coat pockets, watching her until Natalie turned the corner and was
lost to sight.
On the plane, as the plane rose into the air, Natalie closed her eyes, reliving that one, frozen
night. Once she was home, she finished her research. Natalie decided that, objectively, going to
school in Boston made sense with what the School of Art & Design offered. She hadn’t told El
yet, as she still needed to figure out how to fund her tuition. But if she could make it work, she
could move out there.
There could be another frozen night. A warm summer night. A spring afternoon. An autumn
evening.
There could be a future.

***

Natalie and El won’t see each other for another three years. What happened? Find out in A
Hidden Hope, the first novella of the Romancing the Page series.
 Thank You for Reading

Thank you so much for reading the first story in the Romancing the Page series. If you could
take a moment to share your reactions and thoughts on your favorite retailer website and/or
Goodreads, I’d be very grateful.

Would you like to find out about my next release? Sign up for Laura Ambrose’s newsletter!
 About the Author

Laura Ambrose is an American who now lives in Scotland, where she writes about beautiful
women falling in love while drinking tea and occasionally staring outside the window at Arthur’s
Seat and Edinburgh Castle.

Laura also writes speculative fiction under the name Laura Lam, including the award-
winning gaslight fantasy Micah Grey trilogy (Pantomime, Shadowplay, Masquerade), which
stars an intersex, genderfluid protagonist who joins a magical circus, and feminist cyberpunk
thrillers False Hearts & Shattered Minds. The next book under that name is Seven Devils, co-
written with Elizabeth May, which is pitched as Mad Max: Fury Road in space.

Other Work by Laura Ambrose:

Romancing the Page:

A Frozen Night (October 2018)

A Hidden Hope (October 2018)
A Perfect Balance (December 2018)
An Unheard Song (February 2019)
Romancing the Page Boxset #1 (March 2019)

…and more to come!