✓ ❘ 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐎𝐖𝐍𝐄𝐑 ─ 𝐁. 𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐄

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ: ᴡᴇ'ʟʟ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏғ ʜᴇʀᴇ

I cracked open the eggshell and carefully dropped its contents into the prepared pan, keeping a watchful eye on the sandwich cooking in the neighbouring pan so that it wouldn't burn; this was one meal I couldn't screw up.

I'd never made Croque Monsieur – or Madame, if you will – before, but I hoped that the five YouTube tutorials I watched on how to prepare it properly would help and judging by what I've managed to do so far, it had.

Ridiculous, really – the lengths I went to just to be able to cook this single serving of food. But it was her birthday, and any and all ridiculousness was outshined by that fact.

Here's praying it pays off.

I sensed someone walk into the room and immediately knew it was her.

"Is that..." she started; I turned around right as she took a seat at the table, and placed the food in front of her. She gasped happily and hastily grabbed the knife and fork on either side of the placemat on the table. "It is! Croque Madame!"

"Your favourite," I commented, taking my place opposite her as I watched her tuck in eagerly, clearly enjoying it. I breathed out softly, relieved that she liked it.

She chewed and swallowed the bite she had in her mouth before tossing me an incredulous look. "How did you know that?"

As if I don't memorise everything you say or do. I resisted the urge to scoff at her question, instead giving a small shrug and taking a gulp of coffee. "I pay attention."

"Are you ever gonna give me anything more than just cryptic answers?" she sighed.

I narrowed my eyes at her, tapping my fingers against the pale porcelain of the mug before opening my mouth to speak. This was one answer I could give her, at least.

"Tuesday at training, while you were in the middle of one of your many proclamations about how much you hate me," I began; she averted her gaze in shame, a slight tinge forming on her cheeks, "You said that given the chance, you'd run me over with a car for nothing more than a chocolate cupcake and a Croque Madame. Call it a hunch."

"Right," she cleared her throat before taking another bite, carefully swallowing before addressing me again; I watched her intently through it all, "It's delicious. Thank you, Brendon. I really appreciate it."

You're welcome.

I'm glad it made her happy. I'd do things a lot more challenging than cooking a French breakfast food if it meant that she'd be happy. Would I ever admit that, though? Never.

"It's your birthday." I resigned myself to speaking those three words, hoping it would be enough as a response.

It was, because after I said it, she gave me a smile so radiant it would've put the sun, the moon and all the stars to shame, and I swear to god it drew me in so much that I almost returned it. Shit, I really need to get a grip on these fucking impulses.

Pull yourself together, Brendon. You can't go falling for her. Don't make yourself susceptible to those feelings again.

You know how that played out last time.

~

We were playing a round of Uno, she and I, sitting in her 'room'. She let out a triumphant cheer as she dramatically slammed her last card, a blue seven, on top of the blue four I had just set down.

"That's five in a row. I am the fucking queen of Uno," she stuck her tongue out slightly and wiggled her body in what I assumed was some sort of victory dance.

Adorable.

If only she knew that I was letting her win.

The clock on the wall struck seven, making me stand up and grab my jacket from the back of the chair, beckoning for her to do the same. She did, although apprehensively.