Chapter Eight Part One:

If asked if Bette was romantic, most people would say no. But truth be told, she could be romantic, it just depends on who it’s towards. For example: Tina.

And in Bette’s books, being romantic means breakfast in bed.

Unfortunately, it was all going wrong. Well, according to Bette it was a masterpiece but Bette didn’t know a thing about cooking.

Her scrambled egg was too runny, the toast was burnt, the bacon undercooked and the coffee she’d prepared to go with it was already cold. The only good thing about it all seemed to be the red rose that was conveniently placed on the tray.

Bette carefully picked up the tray and slowly made her way towards the bedroom. When she approached the closed door, she balanced the tray between her hip and her hand as she struggled to open it. As soon as she was successful, she slipped inside and stopped in her step.

That morning, Bette had never felt happier.

She’d woken up with Tina in her arms. Her face had been tucked in Bette’s neck and her arm was wrapped around her waist. Bette had prolonged getting up but she had been suddenly overwhelmed with the need to go to the toilet.

“Bette?” Tina murmured still half-asleep as she warily opened an eye.

“It’s me, Tee. I made you breakfast.”

Bette crossed the room and gingerly perched on the side of the bed as Tina woke up properly. She stretched noisily and rubbed at her eyes, before turning to look at Bette.

“That is very sweet, ba-”

She stopped talking as soon as noticed the tray of food. Her stomach jumped towards her throat and she had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from gagging. If there was one thing that she hated, it would be raw egg and the scrambled egg that Bette had prepared, looked a little too runny.

“What’s wrong, Tee?”

Bette looked down at the food as she tried to pick out something that she’d done wrong, but she couldn’t see anything.

“I’m just not that hungry, that’s all.”

“You were all too happy to eat breakfast until you actually saw it.”