“But you have a room especially for your violin, Bette. Don’t you think it tells a different story?” She looked at the girl playing all cool and up-high, smirking. “I think you love it. So you try to hide it from the judgmental, unsatisfying assholes.” She was surprised by her own perceptiveness and how comfortable she was to speak frankly with the brunette. By looking at the expressive brown eyes, she knew she guessed it right.

In a slight flurry, Bette blinked and looked away, scratching the back of her neck with her free hand. “Yeah, it’s sorta… my thing. I play for me and now… you.” For the millionth time, she blushed. To conceal the suspicious red cloud, she cleared her throat and spoke almightily again. “You should consider yourself lucky to have this privilege.”

“Privilege uh?” Tina snickered secretly. Though the tone was irritatingly patronizing, she still found it very cute and suited the tall girl perfectly. The turn of event was not what she had expected, and the kiss was not planned, nor was it feel like one from television shows, but Bette’s soft lips, gentle eyes, pampering voice, all made her feel like she was somehow special. Maybe she was to her. And the thought had her floating on cloud nine. “Ok now master violinist, come sit and eat.” She put up her hands, motioning the brunette to pass over the timber and lay it down.

Without a second thought, Bette obeyed.

The simplest gesture of trust moved the blonde. “What do you do at home then, if you’re not practicing violin?”

The question had the neat brows crease. Bette’s shoulders visibly dropped as she reluctantly played with her food around the plate. “The omnipotent Mrs. Porter, my grandmother, of course pressures me in business study. It’s what my family does. They hire the best tutors, order them to watch me whenever I’m at home.”

“Ohhh—” Tina was instantly elaborated upon: Bette Porter was the only authenticated heir of the family business, and reasonably, all her relatives held high expectations, “that’s why you dawdle in Marymount…sleep through classes, and bully the shit outa everybody.”

Bette crooked an eye brow. “Now you’re my therapist? I’ve been lying to my therapist for ages.”