It All Started With A 'Please': A Sokeefe Story

10: Pyscho Teacher

6:22 on the dot. Unwilling, I escape the warm comfort of my bed and trudge to the closet where I had laid out my clothes for today.

I didn't try too hard. I actually never do--unless Biana and Jolie force me to. 

Just a simple white V-neck, a black bomber jacket since it was freezing, and a pair of leggings that hugged my legs tight. I slipped on a pair of socks and sneakers after taking a shower, brushing my hair and teeth, and staying in bed for a little longer. 

I quickly poured coffee into the portable coffee mug I got from Jolie last Christmas and dashed some sugar and cream into it. My hair was looking pretty killer today, so I brushed a straightener through it, hopefully I didn't look terrible.

Wishing for the best, I head out the door and locked it behind me while I walked down the hall into the elevator. 

I heard a ding and with that, the elevator opened. Whilst waving a quick 'hi and goodbye' to the receptionist, Jemma, I walked out of the twirly exit doors. 

Maneuvering my way through the crowded streets of New York and safely finding my car in the parking building next door, I exited and proceeded to pick Keefe up.

I get to see Shane tomorrow. 

I didn't know if I was as excited as I should be. The usual me would be jumping up and down in thoughts that my best friend is coming back, but there was also the fact that if he found out about Keefe, he wouldn't be so happy. 

But we were friends. He can't decide who I was friends with and who I wasn't friends with. So, I shook my head, shaking the nerves of tomorrow out of my head and entered Keefe's fancy-skyscraper/house.

I texted him. 

Sophie: Hey, I'm outside.

I quickly got a respond.

Keefe: Roger that, captain. On my way out.

I sent a quick roll-eye emoji his way and then waited for him outside his house.

He looked as handsome--I mean, um, uh... terrible--as ever.

He wore black jeans that fit him perfectly, a NC state sweatshirt and you could see a white shirt peek out around his neck. His hair as fluffy and tousled, yet well maintained.

He looked fresh. Like really fresh. At seven in the morning. I'm tireddddd.

He opened the door and the hopped in, closing it behind him as he took his bag and showed it under his seat before he turned to me. "Hey Foster."

"Morning." I grumbled, still tremendously tired. 

"You seem really tired."

I hummed in response, too tired to say anything else. "Hm."

Keefe rolled his eyes and began texting someone on his phone as I continued to drive. Then he began to fiddle with the radio.

I was playing tonight's weather, 'cause... why not? He changed it to an upbeat pop song.

I groaned as I fumbled to turn it off while concentrating on my driving. 

I continued to drive as I asked him. "How do you look so fresh in the morning?"

"Are you saying I look hot, Foster?" Keefe teased, a smirk forming on his face.

Me being me, my face instantly reddened as my tired facade shattered. "Uh-um... no--"

"Calm down young one. I work out in the mornings." Keefe simply explained.

My eyebrows flew so high on my face, they could practically fly off of my face if this wanted to. "What?!"