Keeper of the Lost Secrets

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE: Keefe Sencen is (Insert Sexuality)

Keefe pushed out a small gasp as I pushed my lips against his. His lips were soft and pink. Leftover frosting framed his lips stuck to my skin. He tasted like Sweetberry Scrolls and felt like heaven. He tilted his lips down and put his hands in my hair, combing his fingers through it, turning it up like a rockstar.

I grabbed his other hand and him by surprise. Tugging at it and wrapping it around my waist. I felt cherry blossoms blow into us, but my eyes were closed, so I could only imagine the pink and red of their freshly fallen petals.

When we pulled apart, our cheeks matched the colour of sky now, pink and turning red. We breathed gently out of sync, but our hearts thundered together against each other's chests. I opened my eyes gently, part excited, part scared to see his expression. Pure bliss, etched all over his beautiful face, bringing a childlike joy his strong features.

"Was that okay?" I whispered, and the words were almost lost to wind, but Keefe heard me.

"More than okay," he shuddered a laugh. "For Bronte's sake, that was amazing. Where'd you learn to be such a good kisser? Practicing, eh?"

"Human movies," I muttered, remembering how I'd used to sneak into the theatres to follow a lead for who Sophie was.

Keefe raised an eyebrow and one side of his mouth. He brought his thumb to my cheek and stroked my jaw. I willed my face not to twitch, but I couldn't stop the obnoxious hammering of my heart, trying to escape my chest and be claimed by him. So close, I saw his eyelashes, as blond as his hair and how they framed his blue eyes perfectly. Even by elf standards, Keefe was easily the most beautiful boy who'd walked this earth.

I grabbed one of the scrolls and devoured them. I had picked at lunch earlier, and Keefe's scrolls were delicious.

"Fitz?" Keefe said, and it sounded as if his voice weren't used to speaking, rusty and scratchy, but still as deep as the blue of the waters below us.

"Yeah?" I stared into his eyes with an intensity only matched by how I felt for him.

"How have you been defining yourself?" Keefe spoke in a hushed tone, as if he were afraid of being heard, but the words still had to be said. I felt my features morph into confusion.

"What do you mean?" I spoke. Keefe's face twisted into one of agony, his lips pressed together and biting hard, his eyes and forehead scrunched together, and he inhaled deeply.

"I mean, now that we know we like each other . . . I don't know what my sexuality is." He sighed and turned away, like an angry toddler, but this time, I could only see shame and embarrassment dancing across his features. It didn't suit him at all.

I stayed quiet a minute, organising my thoughts like flashcards. Zipping through my mind were sexualities that I'd heard of. Until now, I'd just used the term queer. Was I queer? I mean, yes, I belonged to the queer community, but was that my sexuality?

"I know I like women." I answered, but it was just me thinking aloud. "And I like men." I gazed affectionately at him, in hopes to heighten his moods, but aside from the dashing smile he offered me, he was still upset. "I think I'm going to label myself as queer for now. I honestly don't think I'm bi, and I'm certainly not gay, so I think that's what works best for me. What about you, Keefe?"

Keefe turned back to me know, and fresh tears were brimming in his eyes. I put my fingers against his cheek, tears cold against his warm skin.

"I don't even want to think about this." Keefe sniffed. He wiped away the tears with his sleeve, voice wavering and he kept clearing his throat, as if he were trying to get a hairball out. "But . . . I think I might be bisexual."

I broke out in a wide grin, my cheeks hurting from how far my mouth was stretching. I couldn't help but let out a giggle. Then a laugh. Then I was lying on the blanket and had pulled Keefe down next to me and my chest and stomach hurt.

"I'm glad you were able to come out to your boyfriend." I teased. Keefe rolled his eyes but the dusting of pink his cheeks had now was impossible to miss.

"I'm glad too."

We lie on the picnic blanket as if we were making snow angels on a winter's noon. Sun shone upon us and right into our eyes. I turned to my side to face Keefe. He merely tilted his head toward me. From the side, I could see the gentle rise and fall of his chest as I breathed and his hair fluttering in the wind. He looked like a Greek God.

Suddenly, I heard a chiming from my pocket. I sat up immediately, the air of blissfulness now gone. Keefe sat up too and rubbed his eyes. I saw my father hailing me and picked it up immediately.

"Hello?" I spoke softly into the imparter, my father's face illuminating the screen. "I'm with Keefe."

His expression changed to a more guarded one, eyes half-lidded and lips in a thin line. He let out a breath as he spoke.

"It's late. Get home, Fitz." He spoke. I gulped and stammered through a reply and cut the call. Keefe stared at me with worried eyes.

"Everything good?" He asked hesitantly. He reached a hand and put it on mine.

"Probably," I said, trying to keep the quiver out of my voice. "He probably just wants me home to study or something."

Keefe nodded and got up. In a few minutes, we had tucked the picnic blanket and food neatly in the basket. Keefe took it in his hand. I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

"Thank you," I said. "Today was fun. I'll update you on my dad."

I held my pathfinder into the light and disappeared with it, the beautiful cliff disappearing into the hard, blinding gates of Everglen. I entered as silently as I could, trying to set off my father's temper.

"Ah. Fitz." He swung around in his chair, as if he were a goofy villain in a Dreamworks movie.

"Yeah?" I said, sitting opposite him. "What's happening?"

"Biana has informed me that you have been getting very close to Sophie Foster." He raised an eyebrow. "Closer than I instructed you to be."

It took everything in me not to sprawl on the floor, gasping in-between fits of laughter. But instead, I sat in stunned silence for a moment before stumbling through a reply.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Anger flickered in his eyes for a moment. I could almost see the red in his vision. But his mood settled, shadows sculpting his now weary expression. "Be careful Fitz. Now is not the time to pursue Sophie Foster. Maybe when she isn't so scrutinised in the public eye. It's just not worth it."