madmax0430

[madmax0430]

Don’t Look at Me Like That - Part 2 (One Step Closer)

Sophie was definitely not fine.

She didn’t have a clue how to process what had just happened with Keefe. The whole lunch situation? That entire conversation? The fact that he’d just said it?

I like you, Sophie.

She couldn’t stop hearing those words. They were playing on a loop in her head, like some kind of sick joke she was too scared to laugh at. Because what if he didn’t mean it? What if he was messing with her, like he always did?

But… what if he wasn’t?

The thought made her stomach do this weird flip that was a little too close to excitement. She hated that. Absolutely hated it.

Sophie had barely made it through her next class without spiraling into a complete mess. Keefe kept popping up in her head, always with that stupid grin, or worse—that look. The one where he wasn’t just messing around. The one that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she didn’t hate the idea of him getting closer.

But no. No way. That was impossible.

When the bell rang, she packed up her things faster than normal, practically darting for the door. She had to escape before she totally embarrassed herself by thinking she might be okay with all this.

But, of course, Keefe was waiting for her outside the classroom, leaning against the wall with that lazy, too-cool-for-school posture that made Sophie’s heart do a stupid little skip.

“Foster,” he greeted, as if he hadn’t completely scrambled her brain just a few hours ago.

“Keefe,” Sophie said, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to walk past him. She wasn’t ready to face him yet—not when her mind was still running laps trying to figure out if he was serious or if she was just… overthinking. Which she wasn’t that good at, right?

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Keefe asked, pushing off the wall and following her down the hallway. “We’re not done talking yet.”

“Oh, yes, we are,” Sophie muttered, but there was no conviction in it. She could feel the tension between them thickening with every step.

Keefe laughed softly, clearly enjoying how unsettled she was. “C’mon, Foster. You can’t just drop the bomb and run.”

“I didn’t drop a bomb.” Sophie stopped walking and turned to face him, crossing her arms like it would somehow protect her from what she knew he was about to do. “You don’t get to just—just say that and expect me to... to not lose my mind!”

Keefe raised an eyebrow, his expression a mix of teasing and something else she couldn’t quite place. “So, you’re saying you didn’t like hearing it?”

“Ugh, you’re impossible,” she groaned, pressing her palms to her forehead. “You’re making this way harder than it needs to be.”

Keefe stepped closer, leaning in just enough that Sophie felt the heat of his presence all around her. She took a small step back, but he didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he just didn’t care.

“What’s so hard about it?” Keefe’s voice softened, like he was genuinely trying to understand her panic. “I’m not asking you to say it back. I’m just asking you to admit you don’t hate it.”

Sophie swallowed. She couldn’t look at him right now. Not when her heart was this loud in her chest.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” she muttered. “This is all... way too fast.”

Keefe stepped even closer, his eyes flickering with something that was—wait, was that hurt?

“Why are you so afraid, Sophie?” he asked quietly, voice soft but serious. “I get that you’ve got a lot going on, but I’m not some... random person. You know me. And I don’t want to rush you into anything. But I also don’t want to keep pretending like I’m not falling for you.”

Sophie felt her breath catch. Her mind went completely blank, and for a second, she just stared at him, trying to process everything. Keefe wasn’t joking. He wasn’t pretending. He wasn’t—this wasn’t part of some prank. He was being real.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Sophie wasn’t sure whether to run or lean in.

“Keefe—” she started, but he cut her off, his hand reaching up to gently tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

He was so close now. She could feel his breath, warm and steady, against her skin. The world around them seemed to slow down.

“I like you, Sophie,” he repeated, quieter this time, like he was finally letting down all his usual walls. “And I know you don’t know what to do with that right now, but... I just had to say it.”

Sophie’s heart raced as her mind spun in circles. She didn’t know how to respond. She didn’t even know what she wanted to say. She just knew that, in this moment, nothing else seemed to matter.

Keefe leaned in, his face so close to hers that she could feel the warmth radiating from him, making her pulse spike.

“Can you... not run away from this? From me?”

Sophie opened her mouth to answer—but before she could speak, Keefe’s lips brushed against hers in the softest kiss she could imagine. It wasn’t some grand, dramatic moment. It was simple. Gentle. Like he was just giving her a piece of himself, trusting her with it.

And Sophie? Sophie felt like her heart had just cracked open.

The kiss lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like it stretched into infinity. When they finally pulled away, Sophie was left breathless, her entire body humming with electricity. Her mind still wasn’t fully caught up, but somehow, in that moment, it didn’t matter.

Keefe gave her a crooked smile, his thumb grazing her cheek like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Told you I wasn’t messing with you.”

Sophie managed a shaky laugh, still lost in the feeling of him, the feeling of them. She didn’t know what this meant yet, didn’t know what came next. But one thing was clear: things were never going to be the same again.

And maybe, just maybe, that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

[madmax0430]

Don’t Look at Me Like That

Sophie had officially decided that Keefe needed to stop looking at her like that.

Not that he was doing anything, like, weird. He wasn’t even saying anything outrageous. For once.

But he was leaning back in his chair at the edge of the Foxfire courtyard, arms crossed behind his head like he had no care in the world, sunlight catching in his annoyingly perfect blond hair, and eyes on her like she was a puzzle he liked too much to solve.

And that was the problem.

“Stop it,” she muttered, flicking a crumb at him from her lunch.

He didn’t even flinch. “Stop what?”

“That look.”

Keefe tilted his head, smirk forming. “Oh, you mean my devastatingly charming expression that you definitely love?”

She gave him a withering glare. “No. The one that says you know something I don’t and you’re just waiting for me to implode about it.”

“So... my regular face?”

“Ugh,” Sophie groaned, burying her face in her hands.

“You okay over there, Foster?” he asked, and she could hear the grin in his voice.

No. She was not okay. She hadn’t been okay for weeks now. Not since whatever-this-was between them started shifting from casual chaos to... something else. Something that made her palms sweaty and her thoughts messy and her heart beat way too fast every time he stood a little too close or said her name like it meant something.

And now he was sitting across from her like he knew exactly how flustered she was.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she mumbled through her fingers.

“Because you’re cute when you spiral.”

Sophie dropped her hands to glare at him properly.

Keefe held up his hands, mock-surrender. “Just saying.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“You’re not denying the cute part though.”

Sophie opened her mouth to say something—probably something scathing and brilliant—but Biana’s voice cut through before she could.

“Oh my stars, are you guys flirting right now?” Biana gasped, appearing behind Keefe with a tray of lunch and an extremely entertained expression.

“We’re not flirting,” Sophie said immediately, maybe a bit too fast.

Keefe just smirked. “Yeah, Foster’s still in denial. It’s fine. She’ll catch up.”

“I will throw you into the lake,” Sophie said, face absolutely on fire.

“Romance is alive,” Biana muttered like she was narrating a drama. “Should I start planning the wedding?”

“NO.”

“Yes,” Keefe said at the same time, beaming.

Sophie shoved her tray away, head in hands again, and prayed for the ground to just swallow her whole. Or at least for someone to distract Keefe with a prank idea and get him to leave her alone for five seconds.

But of course, he didn’t.

Instead, when Biana wandered off to talk to Marella, Keefe leaned in across the table, voice low.

“I wasn’t lying, you know.”

Sophie blinked. “About what?”

He shrugged. “You are cute. Especially when you do that thing where you pretend you hate me but your brain is like, short-circuiting.”

Her entire body froze. “I—I don’t—”

“Sophie.”

Oh no. He said her name like that. Not “Foster.” Not “Miss Rules-And-Responsibility.” Just Sophie. Soft and serious and too full of something she wasn’t ready to name.

She peeked up at him, heart slamming against her ribs.

Keefe wasn’t smiling now. He just looked... honest. Like he wasn’t trying to mess with her for once.

And it was so much worse.

“I’m not messing with you,” he said quietly, like he could read the panic on her face. (Which, okay. He probably could. Empath and all.)

Sophie’s stomach flipped. She tried to breathe but her brain was stuck in static.

She wanted to say something. Literally anything. But all her thoughts were just:

—HE’S LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT AGAIN —WHY IS HE SO CLOSE —DO I WANT HIM TO BE CLOSER —NO —YES —NO I MEAN MAYBE —SOMEONE HELP

She stood up so fast she nearly knocked over the table.

“I have study hall!” she blurted. “I forgot. I gotta—yeah. Bye!”

And then she turned and booked it, ignoring Keefe’s confused (and slightly amused) “Foster?!”

She didn’t stop walking until she reached the far end of the hallway and pressed her forehead to a very cold marble pillar, trying to get her heart rate under control.

This was fine.

Everything was fine.

It wasn’t like Keefe had just kinda-sorta-maybe confessed feelings at lunch and now she was short-circuiting in public.

Except, oh wait.

That’s exactly what just happened.