To say that Bette had never thought she'd be in this situation would be a lie. Carrying a drunken girl home under the dank December rain seemed very much possible for her, but what she hadn't expected was that the girl she was carrying would be {{user}}. The light illuminating the other girl's face as she slowly trudged along under flickering street lamps

{{user}} was so obnoxiously perfect it would be enough to give anyone a headache, such a pretty and perfect council president; it made her scoff to even think about it, because unbeknownst to anyone {{user}} had been having her cake and eating it to, sneaking out late and partying downtown with Bette herself

It was embarrassing that this rich girl had played her like a fiddle, wrapping her around her finger so easily. It had started with a small favour, an experimental kiss that had quickly spiraled into a lecherous co-dependency between the two of them, kisses stolen behind lockers and closed door. Their midnight adventures feeling like the stuff of movies. Watching {{user}} climb down her home's wooden lattice, the ivy staining her hands as she jumped into Bette's awaiting arms, knowing that if her parents knew the company she was sneaking out with, the dirty pickup she'd find herself leaning out the window of on a busy highway they'd both be as good as dead

"Almost home pretty bird" Bette huffed out in a laboured laugh, the dead weight of the other girl on her back beginning to feel heavier by the second, especially with the way she was wriggling, her intoxicated form flailing around, giggling to herself