Talk:Keefe and Sophie/@comment-33804292-20190702011637/@comment-38517513-20190702153351

Keefe didn’t sit down beside her. Instead he stayed standing, kicking up fallen petals and shifting his weight from leg to leg. “Oh. I stopped by Everglen this morning. Figured it was time to be a good best friend and see how Fitzy was holding up, you know? And, um . . . he filled me in on . . . everything.” “Oh really?” Sophie asked, internally cringing at what those little pauses probably meant. The one thing she and Fitz had forgotten to discuss was how much they were going to tell anyone about . . . whatever it was that was going on with them—not that it mattered with Keefe. Empaths. “And there’s the mood shift,” Keefe said quietly. Sophie bit her lip, deciding denial was the only way to survive this. “I have no idea what you mean.” “Yeah, I figured you’d say that.” He reached up, tearing a hand through his hair. “Okay. I know you don’t want to do this—and trust me, it’s the last thing I want to do. But . . . Fitz is my best friend. And you’re . . . you. And no matter what . . . I don’t want to ruin that. So . . . I figured you should know that I know, okay? I know something’s changed.” Sophie took a steadying breath. “I don’t—” “Come on, Foster,” Keefe interrupted with a sigh. “You know you can’t lie to me. So yeah, maybe nothing’s changed officially since I’m pretty sure Fitz would’ve bragged about it endlessly. But I can feel it. Right here.” He pressed his hand against his heart. And for a second his features got all pinched and strained. “So I just wanted to say: You don’t have to act like it’s a secret. Because it’s not. It never really has been, honestly. I’ve been waiting for you guys to figure it out for years. I’m pretty sure our whole group has, between all the blushing and the cute little gifts and the ‘look at us, aren’t we the cutest Cognates ever?’ and the ‘let’s stare into each other’s eyes and do some trust exercises,’ and the ‘teal is my favorite color in the whole world but no one realizes why.’ ” He’d said the last few parts with such a spot-on impression of her voice that Sophie crossed her arms and scooted away from him. “Wow. Okay. Not sure why you’re being such a jerk about it, but . . .” Keefe dropped his gaze to the ground, kicking up lots more fallen petals. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Those were just . . . bad jokes. I don’t know why I made them.” He swiped a hand through his hair again, letting out a long, slow sigh. “What I’m trying to say is . . . I knew this was coming. So . . . congrats! And as long as you guys don’t expect me to start playing chaperone—and keep all Fitzphie smooching and snuggling far, far away—then . . . it doesn’t have to be weird, okay?”

and

“Hey, Foster?” he said, stepping in front of her to block the path. “I’m . . . really sorry about earlier. I never should’ve said the stuff I said. What I meant to say is . . . I’m really happy for you—and Fitz. You guys are perfect for each other.” Sophie’s face burned. So did her eyes. And she couldn’t decide if the tangled emotions clawing up her throat were proof that she definitely wasn’t ready for things with Fitz to be public—or because she still couldn’t imagine people using the word “perfect” to describe the two of them together. But she told Keefe, “Thanks.” He tore his hands through his hair again, looking like he was changing his mind about his next words several times before he said, “So . . . you don’t hate me?” Sophie rolled her eyes. “Ugh, how many times do I have to tell you—I’m never going to hate you!” His smile looked tired. “Well. I guess that’s good enough. For now.”