[HUMAN AU]
⢠⢠â˘
"Miss Foster."
Grimacing, Sophie looked up, making a means to shift so her hair would cover the majority of her face. Professor Bronte stared at her through a pair of glasses far too large for his narrow face. In Sophie's opinion, he was also far too old to be teaching a class meant for agile young adults.
Not that Sophie considered herself agile.
The only reason she was taking ballroom dancing, was, in fact, because she had no idea what she wanted to do in the future. Her major changed so often her parents teased her for getting whiplash. It was ridiculous, really, that she'd chosen this course of action.
Dancing, or anything physical, was not Sophie's friend. Which was why, late on a Thursday night, she found herself seeking enough help to get a passing grade. The classroom she stood in was nearly an auditorium, large enough to seat hundreds of students plus their partners.
But now, with only Sophie and her dancing instructor, the emptiness was chilling.
"I'm pairing you with Mr. Sencen," the professor said, as if reading her thoughts. "He's agreed to tutor you for free â unless you exceed more than five one-on-one lessons."
Sophie felt weak. Hour long lessons with a boy she'd never met made her stomach churn. She wondered if she'd lose her dinner before this Sencen boy even arrived.
"Where is he teaching me?" Sophie asked, locking her knees to prevent shaking. "And when?"
Professor Bronte frowned. "Wherever and whenever he's available. You are the one who's not passing my class; don't expect him to structure his own schedule around yours."
Sophie blushed. Now, more than ever, she was regretting this class. Dancing was certainly not in her future, and neither was the confidence to perform it.
"Oh! Look who's here."
Sophie refused to turn as footsteps entered the room behind her. She was facing away from the entrance, towards the professor, unable to see their visitor.
"Sorry I'm late," a deep voice said behind her. It was so close to her neck that her hair stood up.
Still, she refused to turn.
"Your punctuality is not necessary," Professor Bronte said, his eyes fixed on a location just behind her. "Only Miss Foster's is."
Unable to help herself, Sophie snuck a glance at her new teacher. First her eyes settled on broad shoulders, then moved upward to study blue eyes and strong, solid cheekbones. His hair was the same blond as her own, though it was clear he spent ample amounts of time on his.
It should've been illegal for someone to look that good in a wrinkled T-shirt.
When he met her eyes for the first time, Sophie felt her knees buckle. Before she could hit the ground, though, two different voices erupted in shouts. Strong arms caught her.
"Whoa," the Sencen boy said, cradling her in an embrace so incredibly warm, Sophie decided he was a furnace. "You can't lock your knees â you'll pass out."
"Sorry," she whispered, struggling to stand without the help of a mere stranger.
"Don't apologize to me." He turned Sophie to face Professor Bronte, who looked ready to growl. She remembered, barely fighting a groan, that he'd taught her this logic in the past.
Locking your knees was dangerous at any time, but while you were dancing? That could result in twisted angles or concussions from collapsing.
"You know what?" the blond boy said, right before the professor could fail her on the spot. "I think I'll go over that with her. Don't worry, sir."
His hand was like a heated blade as he led Sophie out of the room, fingers lingering at the small of her back. She couldn't breathe.
"Where are we going?" Sophie asked, following him as he headed out of the building and toward a collection of trees.
"Outside. I like to keep my lessons fun."
"I've never seen anyone practice out here."
"Then you've never met me." Grinning, he pulled her down a smooth concrete path. She knew, from experience, that this path led past the university's Visitor Center and toward the dorms.
"Hey!" Sophie grabbed his hand, turning him to face her. "Whatever your name is â"
"Keefe."
She grit her teeth. "Fine â Keefe. You need to know right now that I despise dancing."
He laughed. "Why are you taking this class, then?"
"I don't know." She threw her hands up. "My parents thought it would be good for me."
"Probably is." Keefe mussed his ridiculously perfect hair. "I mean, you get private lessons from the hottest boy in New York."
"You're ridiculous," she said.
"Thank you for noticing," Keefe said. "In case you'd like to expand your vocabulary further, I'm also incredibly gorgeous, talented, and intelligent."
Sophie fought a smile. "Really? I'm not seeing any of those."
"Maybe you need a closer look."
Her heart erupted into butterflies as his hands found her waist, leading her right up to his chest.
"Don't lock your knees, Foster," he reminded her, using her last name as a nickname.
Sophie corrected her mistake. "I have a first name, you know."
"You do," he agreed. "A pretty one too. But that doesn't mean I'm going to use it."
She huffed, already annoyed.
It was going to be a long, long day.
"Sooo," Keefe drew out, stopping them beneath an oak tree throwing shade over the concrete, "what exactly do you need help with?
"Um . . . everything?"
He snorted. "You don't know how to do anything? The semester's halfway over!"
"I know," she growled. "I just have very uncoordinated feet."
"That's an understatement."
As Keefe's lips pulled into a smirk, Sophie placed her hands on her hips. "I may not be able to dance, but I'm very skilled in the art of shoving."
"Do it," he dared.
Sophie stared, dumbfounded. For a teacher who was barely older than her â and not getting paid a penny to teach â he was taking this remarkably well.
"Of course not," she mumbled. "I was kidding."
"Oh, so you do have a sense of humor."
"Don't sound surprised."
"I'm afraid," Keefe said, "many things about you already surprise me."
Her eyebrows pinched together. "Like what?"
"You're eighteen â"
"Nineteen," Sophie corrected.
"Nineteen," he amended, "and not wearing a drop of makeup. You, Sophie Foster, are a rare species."
"You don't strike me as average yourself."
Keefe grinned, his lightest of blue eyes dancing with sunlight. "You're cute."
"Huh?"
"You're cute, Foster. Has anyone ever told you that?"
A flush crept up Sophie's neck and proceeded to touch her cheeks, then her forehead.
"Aw," Keefe said. "You're blushing."
"Can we get to the lesson, please?"
"Maybe tomorrow. I'm too busy studying my new prodigy."
"Prodigy? I can't dance, Sencen."
He smirked, his eyes focusing on her lips a moment too long. "Yet."
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