• HUMAN AU •
As Keefe pulled into the driveway, Sophie snatched up her backpack, eager to escape the truck's tension. Outside would be cold, but worthwhile. Her hand moved to release the seatbelt, quick and fluid, but a warm hand intercepted hers.
Sophie swallowed. Her gaze followed the hand past strong arms and stronger shoulders, eventually reaching a blond-headed boy. His smirk was noticeably missing.
"What?" she breathed, butterflies littering her insides.
"I — um." Keefe drummed his fingers nervously on the steering wheel. "Do you have to go yet?"
"I have homework." Sophie stared longingly at her house, studying the familiar blue shutters through Keefe's filthy windshield. On another day, when they returned to being friends, she'd tease him for the poor maintenance of his vehicle.
But not today.
His eyes met hers, heartbroken. Until last week, they'd always done their homework together. No exceptions.
But now?
"I'm good at math," he said, a smug tint returning to his voice. Sophie was happy to hear it. After all, she was the one who'd made him lose it in the first place.
Frowning, Sophie fiddled with the patches on her backpack. "My dad can help me."
Keefe inhaled sharply. "You really do hate me."
Emotion lodged itself under Sophie's ribcage, and she tucked it away, happy it wasn't surfacing. "I don't hate you," she promised. "I just don't — um . . ."
How could she put this nicely?
Saying I don't love you was too harsh. And so was please don't ever try to kiss me again.
"I really thought," Keefe mumbled, "that you felt the same way."
"I'm sorry." Sophie laid a hand on his arm, and he stared at it with longing. "I really am."
"You're my best friend." His voice broke.
The emotions safely tucked inside her began to rise, and Sophie hugged her bag to her chest, as if that would keep them at bay. "Not all best friends fall in love."
"What happens when one of them does?"
The tension was too thick. Sophie reached back for the door handle, ready to slide off the seat and flee the scene, but his hand closed around her wrist.
"Please," Keefe begged. "You don't have to love me. I just can't lose you."
Sophie turned. "You're not going to lose me."
"Then why are you leaving?"
Regretfully, Sophie let go of the door handle. "I'm not," she said. The task of studying him distracted her, and it became a grueling chore as the silence dragged on.
It was no lie that Sophie was attracted to him — nearly everyone was. How could you not be? He was tall, blond, and according to every girl at their high school, the very definition of perfect. But even as rich as that attraction was, it lacked love.
She wanted real love.
"Keefe," Sophie whispered. Her fingers wanted to twine with his, but not out of infatuation. Out of care.
His hand reached for her hair, and Sophie's breath ceased when she noticed just how much she enjoyed that touch. When it was gone, she craved more.
"Can't I kiss you?" Keefe's voice was so heartbroken it hurt Sophie. "Just once?"
"It won't be worth it," she warned.
Keefe stared at her, his eyes the same stormy shade as the exterior of his truck. "You don't have to kiss me back."
Sophie wanted to cringe. But she knew that would hurt his feelings. "I know," she said.
"Do I have permission?" Keefe asked.
Sophie hid a hand behind her back and nervously wrung her fingers, squeezing her hand anxiously into a fist. "Go ahead," she squeaked.
Keefe didn't smile. He nodded, and his face came closer too slowly. Memories flashed over Sophie's mind, busying her fear as the distance grew thinner and thinner.
This was the boy she'd grown up with. The boy who'd lived next door for as long as she could remember. The boy who offered her rides to and from school just because driving gave her panic attacks.
And suddenly this boy had become a young man . . .
Sophie had so much time to anticipate his lips touching hers that it bruised her heart when he pulled away at the last second.
His hand retracted from her waist, his warmth receded, and sophie didn't realize how good it had felt until it was gone.
"Wait." Sophie stared. She was hurt that he was now the one rejecting her. "Aren't you going to kiss me?"
He hung his head. "Your first kiss should be special. Not wasted with someone like me."
She touched his arm, gentle but firm. "Hey. Don't talk about my favorite person like that."
He perked up. "I'm your favorite person?"
"Don't get a big head about it."
"My head is perfect and you know it." Keefe ran a hand through his blond waves, and Sophie's breath tangled when he tossed her his chivalrous smile.
She lowered her attention to his lips; adrenaline slammed into her galloping heart. For a moment she couldn't breathe, focusing too closely on the past.
The memory was one from two years previous. Sophie had caught Biana, one of their closest friends, kissing Keefe in the nurse's office. But that wasn't what struck her about the memory — it was the jealously that had run rampant through her entire body.
"Foster?" Keefe looked more than a little spooked. "You're getting real pale there."
Without thinking, Sophie grabbed Keefe's hand and held it to her cheek. She was searching — searching to see if that feeling was still there. His fingers touched her skin, tentative, and she smiled involuntarily.
"Uh, Foster?"
Sophie jerked her eyes open, realizing only then that they had closed. She shoved his hand away and scooted backward, as far back as the truck allowed. Her chest rose. Fell. Her heart was nearly mechanical with its too-frequent thumps.
Keefe released his own seatbelt and drew closer, his face a wash of curiosity and confusion. "Do you like this?" he asked, resting a hand near her jaw.
Sophie didn't respond. But it was answer enough when she shivered upon his thumb tracing her jawline.
He was smiling. "You do, don't you?"
"I can't breathe," Sophie whispered.
Keefe helped her shift back into a comfortable position. His hand only brushed her waist, but a spark surged down her spine anyway. Another followed it, as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Relax," Keefe instructed. "I'm not going to kiss you, okay?"
Heart stinging, Sophie sat back. It took her a minute to realize that the prospect of him not kissing her was scarier than him actually kissing her.
"I'm not scared of that," she told him.
"Are you scared of me?"
"It's not you," Sophie hedged. "I'm scared of how much I like it when you — when you touch me."
A familiar smirk danced on his lips.
Sophie shivered, but not from cold. "Why do I like it?" She shoved a finger at Keefe, her voice gaining volume. "Tell me why I like it!"
Keefe laughed, his arms stretching taut over his chest. And Sophie tried hard not to notice how much she liked his arms.
Because she did.
And that drove her crazy.
"You love me."
He said it with such nonchalance that her blood boiled.
"What?"
Amused as ever, Keefe threw his head back laughing. "You know you're adorable, right?"
"Tell me why," Sophie demanded.
"I doubt words," Keefe said, drawing closer and closer until Sophie couldn't breathe, "would be beneficial here. Don't you agree?"
"Maybe they would be," she squeaked.
Smiling, Keefe reclined his head against the headboard. "Is kissing me really that scary?"
She blushed. "I — sorry."
"Would you like one?" Keefe asked. It was a simple question — one that might be asked on behalf of a piece of candy. But this?
He'd just asked if she wanted a kiss.
And unfortunately, her voice wasn't working.
So she managed a nod, and that nod was followed so closely by the kiss that she was out of breath even before it began. His lips weren't a surprise — they were as warm as his skin and as full as she'd always seen them to be.
His hand remained under her chin, keeping it tilted to just the right height. And when the kiss ended, that hand moved smoothly to rest on the left side of her waist.
Keefe was breathless. He didn't hide his smile. And suddenly, that smile turned smug. "You kissed me back."
"You make it sound like a crime."
"Maybe it is one," he teased.
But Sophie didn't think so.
As a matter of fact, she'd liked it much more than she was willing to admit.