TRUST FALL, sokeefe | ✔️

Chapter 3 | Sophie

   "Sophie I feel like crap."

"Well, you look like crap too." Sophie said, rolled her eyes at her friend,  "And it's one hundred percent your own fault." 

Keefe was right, Biana did have a major hangover, and Sophie being the good friend she was, refrained from laughing...for a little while.

"So, Biana, what do you remember of last night?"

Biana stuck her tongue out but turned back to the toilet, not wanting to risk barfing all over the floor. Through breaths, she said, "That I drank something funny, and that's as much as I can recall without losing all my dignity."

Sophie nodded slowly, "Sure...whatever you say, Miss, 'you can't tell me otherwise".

"Sophie stop it, you're talking too loudly."

Sophie snorted, "I'M TALKING LOUDLY?" She yelled, "OH, I APOLOGIZE, BUT DO YOU THINK THAT IT MAY BE FROM THE INSANE AMOUNT OF WHAT YOU CALLED 'HAPPY JUICE' YOU DRANK LAST NIGHT?" She said yelling louder and louder.

"Shut up! I now have a migraine thanks to you." Bina said squeezing her eyes shut massaging her temples.

Sophie smirked at her friend, Sophie had always been one of the only people able to get under Biana's skin so quickly. "Good, now you won't do it again—for a little while."

Biana pouted, "If you're not gonna make me feel any better, then can you at least get me something from the café? You remember the way right? We got lunch there yesterday."

"Got it, anything in particular?"

Biana pursed her lips, "Anything that doesn't taste like anything if I have anything sweet I may hurl."

Sophie looked at Biana, "You're already hurling." she pointed out looking skeptical.

Biana scrunched her brows, "Not helping"

"See ya." Sophie ducked out of the room, jogging down the halls in the vague direction of the café. All the hallways looked practically the same—white, and plain. 

Walking down the halls felt like she was going in circles, she was about to put her pride aside, and ask another student for help, but there was no one in the hall—

   "You must be lost."

The boy's voice brought her out of her thoughts, turning around, she saw it was Keefe. He was sprawled across a bench, watching her with curious ice blue eyes.

"And you know this how?" Sophie argued.

He stood up, "My Keefe senses tell me."

His Keefe senses. How in love was this guy with himself? Clearly, no one had taught him that he wasn't the only person in the world. 

So she nodded, playing along. "I'm beginning to doubt the accuracy of your 'Keefe senses'." 

He held a hand to his heart and gasped, "You hurt my manly pride."

Sophie couldn't hold in her laugh at that, "Manly pride? You can't be older than me." 

"That depends, how old are you?"

"It's rude to ask a woman's age," Sophie said, pointing a finger at him.

"Rude to ask a woman's age?" He asked, "You can't be older than me." He said mimicking her words from earlier.

Sophie huffed, "I'm eighteen." 

"Well so am I." He admitted.

Sophie had to admit that this was one of the most ridiculous fights she'd ever been in. Fighting about who was older, it was like they were two-year-olds fighting over a toy they both want. "So were you just waiting for me to show up, like a damsel in distress, or do you have somewhere you need to be?" Sophie asked.