Kotlc Sleepover

Chapter =13=

Was asked to update and I can't say no so---

TW FOR SMALL PANIC ATTACK AND MILD MENTION OF PHYSICAL/VERBAL ABUSE, AS WELL AS ARGUMENTS AND YELLING.

Stay safe, loves.

Sophie's pov.

Sophie could hardly breathe.

She was holding Keefe Sencen's hand. She couldn't believe it. Her. Sophie Foster, the weirdest elf in the Lost Cities, holding the hand of someone who was obviously one of the most good looking guys here.

Was she squeezing too tight? Not tight enough? Was her hand clammy?

She doubted she would ever be good at this.

Keefe, however, seemed to be a natural. The steady presence of his hand held her to earth, and the way he kept glancing over and offering smiles made her want to crash into him with a hug.

Or . . . . maybe something else. Maybe part of her ached to kiss him.

But did he seriously like her? He had to be lying about that. She was just, well, her. What was so special about that?

"Where are these brooms?" Keefe exclaimed, tossing his head back. He had just opened another closet, revealing an empty room.

Sophie stumbled to answer him. "Uh, I'm not sure. Maybe . . . maybe we should go back and ask B-Biana?"

Nailed it.

Keefe shrugged. "Sure," he said, turning them around, and suddenly Sophie was hit with the fact that if they went back to the kitchen, they would no longer be able to hold hands.

"Actually, let's search a little longer," she told him.

He looked at her, shrugged, then turned them around again. And down the hall the went.

Keefe used one hand to open a door, and gasped happily. "Brooms!" he yelled, dragging Sophie into the room.

Which was . . . a lot fancier, and a lot larger, then she would have originally thought a broom closet would be.

A chandelier even hung from the ceiling.

Keefe let go of her hand and raced to a broom, which was bright red with flames on it.

He held it up for her to see, and he looked so adorable that she had to laugh, a little.

He beamed. "Look, Foster!"

She nodded, smiling, suddenly happy, even if she was quite confused as to why the Vacker's had so many brooms. Decorated brooms. "I see it," she told him, and reached out for another one, which was purple and sparkly. "Thing this one's Biana's?"

Keefe nodded. "Definitely. Let's go."

He reached for her hand again, almost on instinct, it seemed.

She stared at it. His face flushed red, and he dropped it back to his side.

"Sorry," he whispered, looking away.

She stared at him. Something strange overtook her, and she reached out and grabbed his hand, easy as anything she'd ever done, and for once in her life she felt natural. Just Sophie, not expected to be anything less, not assumed to be more.

Just herself.

When she was holding Keefe's hand, she was just Sophie, and for once in her life, that actually felt like enough

He stared at it, then at her. A smile, wonderful, bright, and big, engulfed his face, and she couldn't stop herself from smiling back.

The two walked down the hall, holding the peculiar brooms in their hands, holding each other, and Sophie might have forgotten to let go.