Flawed Feelings

Chapter 8 - Car Crash Hearts

Watching Emma make my breakfast is now my new favourite thing to do. Seeing as it is only half 2 in the morning, I'm not entirely sure if you can call what she's making, breakfast, but yesterday all we did was sleep. See on Friday, I hatched this ingenious plan so that we wouldn't be late on Monday.

So on Friday we went to sleep with our alarms set for normal school day. Saturday, we woke up really early so that we could make a start on packing. All day Saturday we made ourselves busy with some task, whether it was trip related or not, we did it. By Sunday morning at about half 4, the packing was done, the house had been thoroughly cleaned, Buster had been washed and our dance-party for two had finally worn our legs out. We were knackered to say the least. After a quick, 5-minute shower, we were both upstairs in bed. Entangled with each other as we gratefully drifted off in the abyss of endless possibility.

Walking up behind her, I leant my head on her shoulder. "Something smells good." Wrapping my hand around her waist, I pulled her body into mine. Nuzzling her neck with my mouth, I breathed in her luscious scent. "So, what's the plan?"

"Well it's..." She craned her neck backwards to find the clock on the other wall. "Half two. We've got to do a last minute pack, get showered and ready, go check on my house to make sure its empty and get to school for four." That's a long list of things to do in just an hour and a half.

"You had better hurry up with the food then, hadn't you?" Twisting her neck, she glared at me. Picking up the frying pan, she walked over to the two plates on the counter top. First went the bacon, then the sausages, then the egg and finally the hash browns. Walking over to me, plates in hand. She forced mine down on the table in front of me and stabbed my sausage with a fork. "Hey... What did my sausage ever do to you?"

"It was either your sausage or your eyeball. Your choice." Continuing to glare at me, she ate her food without breaking eye contact. Which was rather disturbing and relatively scary.

Looking down at my plate of food, I slowly picked up my fork and started to fumble around with the sausage which was stuck to the end of it. Glancing up at Emma, her glare had turned into an amused look. "Having trouble are we?"

"Shush you. This only concerns me and my friend here..." After trying again to remove the meat from my fork, I started getting frustrated. "Damn sausage, get off my fork!"

"You do realise the sausage can't hear you right? Or should I admit you to the psych ward?"

Replying sarcastically, "Ha. Ha. Very funny. Get on with your own sausage." Looking back down to my plate, I scraped my fork along the breadth of the white china until it reached the end. Where I angled my left hand downwards, releasing the fork from the sausage's grasp. "Aha! You little rascal." Directing my gaze upwards, Emma was still fully focused on me. "You try eating with your left hand. See how far you get."

She quickly looked down at her plate. Switched hands and started to pick at her meal, her hand, weak, unable to take control of the fork. "Not so easy is it?" She attempted to pick up the hash browns but they just mushed in the centre under the awkward angle Emma was placing the fork in.

Noticing the time, it was already quarter to three. Emma noted my actions as I started to shovel the food into my mouth. No order. No dignity. No fuss. Just straight in. Within a minute, I was all done.

Emma just watched me, bewildered. Looking uncertain of what to say.

"Babe..." I waited for her to nod her head before continuing. "If you want us to be at school for four then you had better eat that and come shower with me. You know I can't use my cast." Matter of fact, since Friday, Emma had literally been showering for me. Having to keep my hand out of the water was hard enough, try adding that to only having your left hand when you're a right-handed person. Not fun.