Kotlc Sleepover

Chapter ●20●

He was sick of being weak, he supposed, because while he knew, distantly, that the way his parents had treated him wasn't normal, he also knew that it was deserved. At least partially, you have to punish a child, and he knew he had been a bad kid, so it was only logical that his parents had had to be more severe with him, right?

But while that thought made perfect sense to him, he knew Sophie wouldn't approve of it, so he shook his head to clear the thoughts and waited for something like courage to overtake him.

And he was like that for a while until someone knocked lightly on the door.

The noise didn't startle him, as if he had expected it, and he moved slowly across the room until his hand lingered over the doorknob. He swallowed hard and asked, "Who is it?"

His voice sounded rough.

"Sophie."

Ah. He had known, of course, that it was her. In the way the knock had sounded, he had simply known, and maybe that was a stupid thing and maybe it wasn't.

"Come in," he said, just to see if she would.

The knob turned and he stepped back as she opened the door, popping her head through to look at him before stepping all the way in.

She pushed the door closed behind her with an audible click and they stood there for a moment.

"Good morning," she greeted.

"Morning," he replied, and just like that they were both studying each other, eyes trailing their forms in vain hope to find nothing amiss.

Sophie had large eyebags, Keefe noticed, and while that wasn't very new, it still tugged at his heart while he wondered what had kept her up so late. How was it fair, he wanted to know, that he could sleep so soundly and she didn't sleep at all?

Other than that, though, she looked fine. He tried to take comfort in that, but it felt cold.

When his own "inspection" was done, he watched her do the same to him. She spent a while in silence examining him, eyes soft as they raked over his body insearch of anything wrong. He had almost passed, he realized, when her eyes narrowed at his wet hair.

Suddenly he felt self-conscious. He tugged on the hem of his shirt, glancing away.

Of course she caught the movement, and she looked at his dirty outfit, back to his hair, and sighed.

"You know," she said, offhandedly, after a moment, "there's extra clothes in here. You didn't have to put on the same dirty ones."

Keefe shrugged, his eyes landing on her's, and then immediately wishing they hadn't because oh. They were trained on him, warm brown meeting cold blue, and it was mesmerizing the way she looked at him.

But she blinked, and whatever spell had been cast was broken, and Keefe cleared his throat, tilting his head down. "I know. I just . . . wasn't sure I was allowed to wear them."

It was a half-truth, at least, and he watched as Sophie's expression softened like butter. "Keefe, of course you can wear them. Here, let me . . . I can get them for you."

And even if Keefe didn't necessarily want to change, he didn't stop her, because the little crease between her eyebrows was very cute, and screw him for wanting something wholesome in his life right then.

She turned to the dresser, which was propped next to the massive bed, and opened the middle drawer.

Keefe lingered a few steps behind, making no comment as she pulled out a T-shirt, pants, and a pair of striped blue socks.