Chapter 18 - Keefe

*Keefe's POV*

Keefe was trying to act cool, trying to keep his usual teasing smile in place as he stepped into the small, dimly lit closet with Foster. The whole night had been building up to this moment, and now here he was, alone with Foster. The girl he couldn't stop thinking about. The girl who had no idea how much he cared for her.

As the door closed behind them, the air felt thick with tension. Keefe could feel the weight of it. And it wasn't just the game—it was Foster. The way she was standing there, arms crossed, not meeting his gaze. The way her shoulders were a little too stiff, like she wasn't sure what to do or how to act around him.

He had to admit, he was nervous. He had been trying to keep his feelings hidden for so long, but now, locked in this tiny space with her, he couldn't ignore it anymore. His heart was hammering in his chest, and it felt like he might just explode from the pressure of being this close to her.

Keefe tried to act casual, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms, but the words he'd been holding in for so long were threatening to spill out. He'd been bottling up his feelings for years, ever since the day he realized Sophie was more than just a friend.

But now? In this moment? He had no idea if he should say something, if he should just let it go and pretend everything was normal, or if he should tell her how he felt. The idea of confessing everything to her terrified him. What if she didn't feel the same? What if it ruined their friendship?

"Seven minutes, Foster," he said, trying to hide the uncertainty in his voice. He forced a smile, but even he could tell it didn't reach his eyes. Foster didn't seem to notice. She just nodded, her expression unreadable.

The silence between them stretched on, and Keefe couldn't help but watch her. The way her lips were pressed together in a tight line. The way her arms were crossed defensively, like she was preparing for something.

Sophie wasn't looking at him. She wasn't looking at anyone, really. She was lost in her own world, probably still thinking about everything that had happened with Fitz. And Keefe understood. He really did. But part of him couldn't help but feel the sting of being ignored. The sting of knowing that even though he was right here, trying to be there for her, she was still holding back from him.

Finally, Foster broke the silence, her voice barely above a whisper. "About earlier..." she started, her words hesitant. She looked up at him, and Keefe felt something. Vulnerability. Regret.

"I'm really sorry," she continued, her voice soft. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I was just... upset, and you were there, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Keefe's heart ached at her words. He'd been waiting for her to say this, but hearing it out loud felt like a weight being lifted off his chest. He had known she didn't mean to hurt him, but hearing her say it, hearing the sincerity in her voice, made him feel a little better.

"Foster, you don't have to apologize," he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the way his heart was racing. "I get it. You've been through a lot. And honestly, I'm not mad. You can always talk to me. You don't have to push me away."

She looked at him, and there was something in her gaze that made Keefe's heart skip a beat. It was a look he hadn't seen from her before—something raw, something real. It made him wonder if she was finally starting to see him, to see what he had been trying to show her all along.

"I know," she said, her voice small but sincere. "I just... sometimes it's hard to figure out who to trust."

Keefe nodded, taking a small step forward. "I get that. I really do," he said, his voice softening. "But I'm here, Sophie. I'm not going anywhere. You don't have to do this alone."

For a long moment, Foster didn't say anything. She just stood there, looking at him, and Keefe could feel the weight of everything in her eyes. She was struggling with something, he could tell. But what?

"I don't know how to do this," she said quietly, her voice full of uncertainty. "I don't know how to move on from everything that happened with Fitz. And I don't know what this is between us."

Keefe's heart clenched at the mention of Fitz. He didn't want to bring it up—didn't want to be that guy who made everything about him, but it was hard not to feel the sting of it. He wasn't Fitz. He would never be Fitz. But he wanted to be something to her. He wanted to be the one she trusted, the one who was always there for her.

"You don't have to figure it all out right now, Foster," he said, taking another step toward her. "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."

Foster's gaze softened, and Keefe saw a flicker of something in her eyes—something he couldn't quite name, but it made his heart race even faster. For a second, everything seemed to fall into place. The tension between them, the unspoken feelings, the way they had both been dancing around the truth for so long—it all seemed to vanish, just for a moment.

And in that moment, Keefe realized that no matter what happened, no matter how complicated everything was between them, he would always be there for her. And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.