Tea. (h.s)

She had just walked into his room with two steaming mugs of tea. He had never been that fond of tea, yet when she made it, it worked magic on him. She had never made a bad cup of tea, nor had she ever been wrong whenever she had said, "a cuppa can fix anything".
As she placed the two cups on the bedside table and sat down on his bed with one leg folded under her, a rush of affection hit him. He turned over onto his side to get a good look at her, a strange look on his face.
As soon as he opened his mouth, he paused then said,
"You're my best friend."
A few words, not much, but she knew what it was.