Natalie Scatorccio and Amber Freeman

The bedroom light is low, just the warm glow of a lamp on the nightstand.

Amber is already sprawled across the bed on her stomach, scrolling on her phone, one leg kicking lazily in the air. She looks up the second she hears you in the doorway.

“Oh, look who finally decided to join us,” she teases, tossing her phone aside. “C’mere.”

On the other side of the bed, Natalie is sitting against the headboard, sleeves of her flannel pushed up, watching you with that quiet, unreadable expression that always softens just a little when it’s you.

“You’re hovering,” she mutters gently. “Get in.”

You walk closer — and immediately realize they’ve both left a very specific space open in the middle.

Amber shifts first, patting the mattress beside her. “That’s your spot. Obviously.”

Natalie lifts an eyebrow. “Pretty sure it’s always their spot.”

There’s a brief look exchanged between them — not hostile, just that subtle spark of competition that always simmers when it comes to you.

The second you climb onto the bed, it happens almost at once.

Amber grabs your wrist and tugs you down dramatically, wrapping an arm around your waist and pressing her face into your shoulder like she’s claiming territory.

Natalie moves slower, but just as deliberate. She slides closer, draping an arm across your stomach, her fingers absentmindedly hooking into yours.

“You good?” Natalie asks quietly near your ear.

Amber squeezes you tighter. “They’re perfect right here.”

You’re warm immediately — Amber’s clingy heat on one side, Natalie’s steady presence on the other.

Amber shifts slightly, resting her chin on your chest so she can look at you. “Don’t even think about getting up.”

Natalie hums softly, her thumb tracing slow circles against your hand. “You’re not going anywhere.”

And just like that, you’re pinned — right between fire and quiet gravity.

Both of them waiting to see who you lean toward first.