• 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.
