Seventeen | Soulmate AU | ✔

20 | Affection

I COME BRINGING FLUFF MY PEOPLE in celebration of 400 followers and 20K reads on this story! I think my writer's block is starting to end, so hopefully updates are going to be regular again. For those of you that aren't my followers (who know everything the moment they happen) that does mean that, yes, I will be updating at my usual time. Hopefully you'll see a new update next week sometime between Friday and Sunday. The next chapter is scheduled to be from Keefe's perspective, so hopefully it will be fun:-)

It's kind of a long chapter. I stopped and started and was just adding onto it bit by bit, over the past few weeks while trying to write, so I hope it isn't chunky or awful. It's also not edited, as usual, so we'll see. Let me know if you think it is really bad in the end...this way I can do better next time.

P.S. My school starts this week - *sarcastic yay*.

P.P.S. Does anyone else play field hockey? Just me?

P.P.P.S. I felt like Summertime Sadness was very appropriate, not only for back to school but also because it's more of the mood of this chapter. Lana's voice & style just does something to me.

The entire way home was... (dare I say it) awkward. Or maybe it wasn't. I was too tired to tell. Keefe was either in his thoughts the entire time or being a considerate person that was aware of my fatigue. I couldn't tell which.

His car was nice. It was a sports car, black and red with a super sleek interior. It must have cost a lot, I could tell.

I ask him about it, and he just laughs bitterly, which isn't exactly the reaction I was expecting. "It's my dad's way of showing affection; money," Keefe tells me, his hands tightening on the wheel at the question, leaving me to wonder just what his situation was at home and what he had against his dad. Oh, and how much this must've cost – was my soulmate loaded?

I drift in and out of sleep and thoughts the entire way home. So much that I almost don't realize when the car stops and he comes over to my side, opening my door.

He is leaning over me to unbuckle my seatbelt when I blurt out, "What are you doing?"

I'm not kidding when I say he jumps up and hits his head so hard the car does something between a creak and a groan. "Oww," Keefe grumbles before turning to look at me accusingly. "Don't ever do that again, I thought you were asleep!"

I give him a sleepy grin. I would laugh, but I'm still half-asleep. "Were you going to wake me up?"

The tips of his ears turn bright red at my question. Well, that and him realizing he's still awkwardly hovering over me to unstrap my seatbelt. With some hesitation, he hits the button to unbuckle me before backing out so he's no longer halfway in the car. "I-uhh," is all he manages, momentarily losing his coolness and being caught off guard. "I was going to carry you to your room."

I blink at him. That's actually...kind of sweet. He's a well-renowned sporty jock jokester at our school, so I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but this wasn't it. "Oh. Wouldn't I be too heavy to lift, though?"

I regret my question the moment it's out of my stupid half-asleep mouth.

His face – although still flushed – returns to its normal state; the epitome of confidence and cockiness. He holds up his arm and flexes a (large) muscle.

"Foster, I may be many things, but weak certainly isn't one of them," he crows, giving me a wide smirk. "I'm on the football team, for heaven's sake."

"You are?" I ask, then try to backtrack. "I mean – I knew that. Right. I just forgot."

He gives me a really? look. "I'm wounded that you think so low of me," he says, putting a hand to his forehead. "My manly pride is hurt."

"Sure." I roll my eyes, forcing him to move as I get up and out of the car.

A hand instantly wraps around my waist as soon as I'm standing, supporting me. I look at him questioningly, before remembering that as far as he knows, I'm still faint from blood loss. In reality, I'm not, but like hell I'm going to tell him and have him stop leaning down like an idiot to half-hug me.

My laziness kicks in the moment the door slams and I look at how far twenty feet is. I glance at him, looking up through what's left of my lashes innocently. "I don't actually believe you can pick me up." I lean heavily against his side for emphasis.

Keefe gives me a knowing look but decides to play along, which I appreciate. "Oh yeah? How can I prove my manly strength to you?"

"If you carry me from here to the door, I'll believe you," I tell him, giving him a tired lopsided smile. I hold out my arms in his direction.

He pointedly ignores my arms and instead hooks his arm under my knees. Before I can say a word, I'm horizontal with one of his arms under my shoulders and one cradling me under my knees. My mind stutters to keep up.

"You still have to carry me twenty feet," I remind him, snuggling my head into his brown shirt. I don't even watch as he starts walking, instead just enjoying the feeling of being taken care of. He's warm and soft and smells like sweet pine, and it cheers me up.

So what? I'm a cuddly creature. Deal with it.

This is way better than leaning on Dex's bony shoulders. If this were me and him, I would be the one carrying that boy. Let's be real.

"I'm putting you down now," Keefe warns, putting me back on my feet. He's smiling, keeping an arm around my waist supportively as he rings the doorbell.

My charming father opens the door with a scowl on his face, takes one short glance at Keefe, and says, "Get out of here."

My soulmate is smart. He gives Grady a smile, winks at me as discreetly as he can, and goes back to his car.

Okay, so maybe the winking part wasn't smart, but I give him credit for everything else.

Grady steps aside, inviting me in and closing the door behind me. "Don't look at me like that," he mutters, just barely audible.

"I wasn't looking at you," I say back, turning and heading up the stairs to my room. The guilt is already getting to him – I can tell.

"If it makes you feel any better, your mother and I agreed that you get tomorrow off," he calls up the stairs.

God, I'd forgotten school existed. If I had to go tomorrow...I silently thank my parents.

I turn into my room, not even bothering to look around the space before flopping into my bed and burying my face into my pillow. I swear I sink into the bed, every part of me too tired to do anything but lay there limp.

It's nice; much nicer than the stupid hospital bed and the room with blindingly white everything.

If only I could bury my head into my pillow and pretend that nothing existed but me forever.

I roll over when I hear my phone ringing from my pocket. I pull it out, annoyed that someone is interrupting this time. It's Maya. I almost want to text her and tell her that she has the absolute worst timing known to mankind, always, but instead I opt for hitting decline to her facetime call.

I can tell everyone else some other time, can't I? It's definitely justified for me to wallow in my own hole of misery if I have cancer.