• HUMAN AU •
"I can't believe they ended the movie there."
Sophie, still bitter, slam-dunked her popcorn bowl into the garbage as they exited the cinema. Keefe stared disapprovingly at her. "Foster, Foster, Foster," he chided. "How dare you waste three precious pieces of popcorn?"
But Sophie wasn't paying attention to him. She walked furiously toward his Sedan, the gravel hot beneath her thin sandals as she threw her hands into the air. Keefe watched her, smirking. Sure, he was disappointed with the ending too. But this was a little dramatic.
"Why couldn't they have added another scene?" Sophie demanded no one in particular. She turned to him, walking backwards in the dangerously crowded parking lot. "We don't even know if he's alive! Or if he'll be in the next movie!"
"Uh, Foster," Keefe said, reaching for her hand. "You're about to hit a tree."
Sophie paused her backward gait and reached back to feel the trunk of a palm; the vegetation here seemed inescapable. Keefe couldn't help but smile. Sure, it was a perfect place to lock lips, but considering he'd already kissed her twice that day, he decided against it. After all, she wasn't his girlfriend.
At least not yet.
Sophie cleared her throat, a soft blush on her cheeks. Keefe's lips twitched. This was the Foster he knew — the shy sweetheart who he was lucky enough to call his best friend. True to her nature, she was blushing. Her cheeks rivaled the vivid red sunset in the distance.
Just to cure her embarrassment, Keefe said, "You're right. Terrible ending."
"Right?" Sophie bumped his shoulder as they walked, a laugh caught in her throat. "I mean, he lost a lot of blood. But he can't be dead, right? The fangirls would riot."
Keefe let go of a laugh deep inside his chest. They were nearing his car, and Keefe made sure to trap Sophie between himself and the passenger door as he unlocked it.
"You are a fangirl, Foster." He leaned in a little closer — close enough that Sophie's breath caught. "Although I really wish you were mine."
Sophie stared, her breathing speeding. He'd kissed her half a dozen times over the past two weeks; however, no matter how many occasions, her breathing always stayed the same. Rapid. Uneven. Heavy.
When Keefe didn't lean in immediately, Sophie reached back for the car's door handle. But once she managed to wedge it open she only shoved herself closer into Keefe's path.
"You know," he said, grinning, "I'd open the door for you if you'd let me."
"I can do it by myself," she argued.
"I know you can. That doesn't mean I'm not willing to be a gentlemen."
"You? A gentlemen?" Sophie teased.
Laughing, Keefe helped her inside. When she was settled, he crossed to the driver's side and climbed in. Sophie was staring at him, her cheeks lit.
"What?" he asked.
"Keefe — you really don't have to . . ."
"Have to what?"
"Open my door. Pay for my movie ticket. Adjust my seat or whatever you think I'm incapable of doing myself."
"Uh, I think you're plenty capable." He flashed her a cocky grin. "It's called being polite, love."
Sophie stiffened in her seat, more heat rising to her cheeks. Okay, so maybe the nickname was overkill. But he had kissed her on more than one occasion. And she'd kissed him back. At the thought, Keefe smirked — he was never letting her live that down.
An awkward tension hung between them still, although he was determined to break it.
Sophie tilted her body to face him. As the sun blinded her, she pulled down her sun visor. Then said, "I appreciate it; I really do. But . . . you're not my — my —"
Keefe watched her steadily, searching for any indication in her eyes. Any craving, any desire for something that seemed just out of reach. As she struggled to scrounge up the word, he decided to torture her further. "Your what?" he asked.
"Ugh." Sophie buried her face in her hands. "I just — I can't — not when it's not real . . ."
"It is real," Keefe said. "I'm starting to lose count of how many times I've kissed you."
Embarrassed, Sophie peeked at him between her fingers. Keefe laughed. As his hands reached for hers, he silently cursed the console separating them. What Sophie really wanted, he could tell, was a hug.
"I'm sorry," she said weakly. "I just — I . . ."
Keefe leaned in closer, anxiety upturning the popcorn he'd just eaten. "Why don't you want it to be real?"
"I never said I didn't."
"Then why —"
"It's scary," Sophie blurted.
Keefe, who was fully prepared to do all the talking only a minute ago, paused. "Me, or the relationship?"
"Both."
"What's so scary about me?" Keefe tried to not sound offended, but he definitely was. Sophie, the girl he'd grown up with — the girl who consistently told him every detail of her life — suddenly didn't trust him?
She pulled her legs up to her chest. "I just don't want things to change."
"Sometimes change is good."
". . . Maybe."
Sophie's eyes wandering anywhere but Keefe. They traced the windshield, the cooling vents, her shaking hands, her chipping manicure. Her lips, which Keefe had found quite the spectacle recently, parted as if to say something, then closed.
Keefe swatted down his own sun visor as he shifted closer to her. The light was killing him today. He figured, if Sophie pushed him away now, she really didn't want him. But she'd never rejected him before, regardless of the fact that she supposedly didn't want this.
Sophie closed her eyes as Keefe leaned in, waiting, just waiting for his kiss. But what he gave her was hardly even a brush of their lips. Keefe decided he might as well leave her wanting more.
"I know you're scared," he soothed, his breath warm on her cheeks. "But I also know you. And clearly, you're not opposed to kissing me."
Sophie flushed. A blonde wave slipped from behind her ear, and when Keefe tucked it back, he found that her ears too, were warm.
"It's not you," Sophie promised, refusing to meet his eyes. "It's the label."
"There doesn't need to be a label," Keefe told her. "No boyfriend-girlfriend rubbish."
Sophie's lips twitched into a grin. "Rubbish?"
Keefe smirked, continuing his speech. "No dates — at least unless you want them."
Sophie peeked up at him self-consciously. Her eyes were soft. "Maybe a few?"
"Ah, so you are in love with me."
"You moron." Sophie shoved his shoulder lightly. But her smile was still present.
"Handsome moron," Keefe corrected.
"You agree you're a moron, then?"
"Are you agreeing I'm handsome?"
Blushing, she hid behind her hair. "Not out loud."
He grinned. "Good answer."
Sighing deeply, Sophie folded her hands in her lap and returned her attention to the sunset. She stared sullenly. Before Keefe could ask if she was alright, though, she said, "Thank you. For taking me to a movie."
For once, Sophie was acknowledging her liking to the movie and not her distaste for the ending. Keefe smiled. "Well, I'm going to be taking you more often, huh?"
She smiled under his dominant gaze, her honey-brown eyes fluttering shut. "Yeah. I guess so."
Keefe watched her a few moments, contemplating telling her how pretty she looked in the dying sunlight. Surely she hadn't noticed it herself — that was what he loved about her. But before he could even decide, Sophie reached for his hand.
"Keefe," she said softly. He met her eyes before she continued. "If we're not dating, then what are we?"
Keefe smirked. "Friends with benefits."