Back To You [editing]

Chapter 11 - Sophie

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I lay awake, replaying what had happened last night. Me letting out all the anger that I had stored for five years

Five years of depression

Five years of loneliness

Five years of holding onto a single thread

Five years of pure guilt

I grabbed my alarm clock: 10:27 am

I strenuously threw my alarm on my nightstand and sighed

Keefe cares and I pushed him away. He loves me. He went through so much for me.

And what did I do?

I shouted, shoved, and threw things I even bruised my knuckles. What good did that do? I should apologize. But I don't even know if he's even here in, Boston. I would give up on me- but I'm not Keefe. I'm not affectionate, tenderhearted, sympathetic- I'm nothing like Keefe.

Maybe I could track his thoughts and pinpoint his location. I turned my telepathy on and tracked his mind

He's at the park

I sigh and I pulled myself off my bed; I looked down at my clothes- the same as yesterday's.

I was in too much hysteria to even change my clothes

I ran my hand through my hair as I marched towards my closet. I grabbed my white loose crop and paired it with ripped jeans.

*After bathroom*

I grabbed my keys and headed out to my car. As I drove, I kept trying to plan out my apology. How about, Hi Keefe, I'm sorry! No, that's too straightforward. Should I tell him I love him? But I ripped his photo in front of him. Even though I lied. Did he sense that? After all, he is an Empath. But I ripped his photo.

That was persuasive.

Before I could ponder any more conversation starters I arrive and I park my car on the curb. I take a deep breath and step outside.

Keefe was playing.... basketball? On the court with three other humans who were wearing almost the same thing as him, but in a different color. I have to admit he was pretty good. He had just made a few baskets. He was wearing a white sweatshirt with black loose jogger sweatpants and he had his hood up.

But what should I call him? Should I call him Keefe or Colton? Was his fake name Colton? Do people know him by Colton? Would he be embarrassed if I call him Keefe? Keefe or Colton? Think, Sophie, think. Colton or Keefe?

I scratched the back of my neck and looked down at my clothes; I had knotted the end of my crop so that my belly was exposed and my light jeans were loose and ripped; I had folded the end of them and I had on white shoes.

I walked to the edge of the basketball court

I ran my hand down my face before yelling Keefe's name. "Keefe?"

Keefe looked around, but his eyes didn't land on me. Can't he feel my emotions? Probably too concentrated on his game.

The basketball hit Keefe's shoulder- hard