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"Call 1-800-DELILAH for the chance to date LA's MOST ELIGIBLE BACHELOR... Keefe Sencen! Give us your name and you might win a magical night!"
When Fitz answers the call from his sister, he's greeted with a scream so piercing that he drops his phone. It lays facedown on his carpet, and he swears it vibrates in place with the intensity of her voice, which is now thankfully further from his ears.
This isn't the first time Fitz has dealt with a situation like this. He patiently waits her out for a minute, barely registering the tinny voice shrieking at his feet, then interrupts, "Hi, Biana."
"Oh my God. Fitz! Are you even listening to me?"
"Can you try not to make me deaf?"
"No, listen, this is a big deal! Stop being calm!"
Fitz squats to pick his phone up. "Jeez. What is it?"
"Fitz," Biana says, and her voice has dropped, suddenly serious. "I won a date. With Keefe Sencen."
He freezes mid-squat. "What."
"Keefe Sencen."
"You're lying. How?"
"And you say I'm too loud," Biana says, a touch snide. Which, deserved, but Fitz is now fully sitting on the floor, staring at his phone in shock.
"Biana, I swear—"
"Okay, fine! It was some radio contest! I called the number and they said they'd contact me in a couple days if I won, but I totally thought it wasn't real. Like, concert tickets, sure! But a dinner date? Isn't that insane? Ugh, Marella's so jealous."
"Holy shit. You're serious."
"Like, who even does that?" Biana muses. "But then they sent me a bunch of official documents, tons of signatures, so I guess it's legit? It's gotta be a publicity stunt though, because there wasn't an NDA, but then does he really need to do this for publicity? It's Keefe Sencen, he can buy out Times Square. I mean, I get loving your fans, but—"
Fitz can't bear this anymore. "Are you going?"
"I guess?" Biana says. "Like, I can't turn down dinner with Keefe Sencen!"
"Keefe Sencen," Fitz repeats. He's progressed to fully laying on the ground, hands laying limply by his side. He stares up into nothing. "Keefe fucking Sencen."
"I can't believe you're gonna watch me go on a date. This is so embarrassing." Biana has more or less been repeating this for the past hour, so Fitz continues to ignore her. "God, I feel like I'm fourteen again," she adds, playing some Candy Crush knockoff.
In roughly five minutes, their front door will be rung. By Keefe Sencen. And Biana will go on a date. With Keefe Sencen.
"Will you mention me?" Fitz says, abruptly.
"What?"
He flushes. "You know. To Keefe."
Biana groans. "Dude. I offered to give you the date—"
"No, Biana, I'm not asking to go—"
"But you so obviously want to! Keefe Sencen is like, your top celebrity crush. Mine is probably... Hm. Maybe Megan Fox?"
"That's basic. Megan's everyone's celebrity crush."
"Okay, fine, want someone niche? Theda Bara."
"Who?" Fitz wonders when he lost his priorities and tries to refocus. "Whatever. Just—Go to dinner. With Keefe. And maybe mention me, like, just a little."
Biana says, indulgently, "And what do I say? Hi Keefe, let me tell you about my older brother. We look basically the same, give or take a few inches. He spends his weekends baking and gardening and avoiding socialization."
"Oh, maybe talk about how I might adopt a dog."
"You're adopting a dog?"
"No," Fitz replies. He thinks for another moment. "Don't say I avoid socialization. Talk about how I... you know, party. And stuff."
"Party and stuff," Biana repeats.
Fitz groans. He contemplates banging his head against the coffee table. "Please make me sound good."
"Again, why won't you go on the date?"
"No, I can't steal my younger sister's date. That's pathetic." Fitz checks his phone so he doesn't have to see his sister's expression. "Oh God, he'll be here in a minute. A minute!"
The bell rings. Biana starts laughing.
"Why is he early?" Fitz whispers. "Biana, stop sitting there. Get the door. Get the door!"
"Shut up, I'm getting the door!"
Biana gets the door, and Fitz immediately regrets rushing her. Keefe is standing right there, and Fitz is standing right behind Biana, and his clothes a little mussed from laying on the couch, and he's completely, utterly, totally unprepared to make direct eye contact with Keefe Sencen.
"Oh my God," Fitz says aloud, but hopefully not that loud?
Keefe Sencen says nothing, continues to stare right into Fitz's soul.
"Hi," Biana says from between them. She wiggles her fingers.
Keefe's eyes suddenly flick downward and he smiles at Biana. He looks kind of surprised. "Hi. You look great."
"This is my brother, Fitz," she says, and steps to the side for some reason.
Now Keefe is looking directly back at Fitz. "Hi."
"Hi," Fitz says, very quietly. "Um."
Silence. They keep looking at each other.
"Where are we going tonight?" Biana interjects.
It takes too long for Fitz to remember who we is, as in, not him. He is consumed with regret. About everything. What was so wrong with stealing your little sister's date anyway?
"I thought I'd take you to this place, Anajak Thai." Keefe's voice is so incredible. Fitz wants to listen to it all day. "You said you liked Thai food, right?"
"Oh my God! That's so funny!"
"What?" ask Fitz and Keefe simultaneously. They glance at each other. Keefe is smiling a little bit. Fitz reddens.
"You won't believe this," Biana begins, and dread creeps up Fitz's spine. "But Fitz has been dying to go to Anajak Thai for ages! Sure, I like Thai, but he loves it!"
"Really?" Keefe looks intrigued.
"Yes! Fitz, tell him! You've been, like, begging me to go to that place!"
The spotlight swings onto him, and his mouth has never been dryer. Biana widens her eyes at him in a very threatening and very meaningful manner. "I do. I mean, I have. I—Yes."
"Isn't that so crazy?" Biana muses.
"So crazy," Keefe agrees. "Well, I had no idea this restaurant was so special—"
"Wait." Biana smiles winningly. "I have an idea!"
The conversation is spinning way too fast, in a direction Fitz isn't particularly sure of. "Okay, hold on—"
"Fitz, why don't you come with us?"
Keefe's eyes widen, but not as much as Fitz's do. He gapes at his sister. "Biana, are you—" Out of your mind?
She's never looked so self-satisfied. "I'm sure Keefe doesn't mind."
"Um," says Keefe, looking thoroughly bewildered. "I—I mean, it's your night—"
"Okay!"
"Bi, you can't be serious," Fitz says, incredulous.
"Come on Fitz! It'll be fun. When'll you ever have dinner with an Oscar winner again?"
"I could probably find someone."
Biana's eyes flash, her chin tilted stubbornly. "And you've always wanted to go to this restaurant."
"Have I?"
"You're coming."
"I'm not coming."
"You should come," Keefe says.
Fitz pauses. "Okay."
At the restaurant, Biana takes an agonizingly long time deciding what to order. As she pores over the menu, Fitz tries to focus his attention on the seats, the lights, the walls, anything but how soft the fabric of Keefe's shirt looks.
Keefe, on the other hand, seems determined to thwart his efforts, because he does not stop talking to Fitz. Does. Not. Stop.
"So, how much older are you than Biana? Any other siblings? Oh, wow, sorry to hear that. Um... anyway, I also love Thai food! It's so good, right? I went to Thailand once, for a shoot, and it was so cool. Would you wanna go to Thailand? What other things are you into? Do you like surfing? Whoa, you've never surfed before? Well, I'm a great teacher! Seriously, hit me up any time. Hey, the ambiance here is so nice. Isn't it so nice?"
Fitz tries, he really does, but it's hard keeping up with Keefe's chatter while also looking as normal as possible about the whole situation. He must be the only one struggling. Keefe's cheer hasn't dampened a bit, and Biana is a goddamn Cheshire Cat.
To cope, he takes a large sip of wine just as Keefe says, "And in my next film, I'm gonna be mostly shirtless."
Fitz, unfortunately, then starts choking on said wine.
Biana looks at him with distaste. "Stop choking," she hisses, but he can barely gasp out a reply. His chest begins seizing. "Oh no, wait, are you actually choking?"
Keefe, ever the hero, begins thumping Fitz on the back. "Is this how you do it?" he asks Biana, as Fitz gets progressively redder.
"I think so? Can you do a Heimlich?" asks Biana.
"I can try! I just punch his stomach, right?"
Fitz gives an especially large cough and stops choking, air flooding his lungs again. Biana and Keefe, consumed in their panic, don't notice.
"That should work, yeah," Biana is saying. "Oh my God, people are looking at us!"
"Wait, or do I punch his back?"
"I don't know! Both! Hurry!"
"Please don't punch me," Fitz wheezes. They both look at him, surprised. "I'm okay now. I'm okay."
"Good," says Biana. "We didn't know how to do a Heimlich anyway."
"Yeah," Fitz mutters. "I could tell."
Keefe's hand is still resting on Fitz's back, warm and solid. "You sure you're good?"
Fitz feels faint, but he figures that's not what Keefe is referring too. "Um. Yeah. I'm good."
He swears Keefe's fingers linger, like, just a bit.
"Well. That was exciting, at least," Biana says, once they've all settled back in their seats. The appetizers are arriving. "Oh, this looks so good. Wait, let me get a picture!"
Keefe snatches his hand from the plates so fast that Fitz has to hide a smile. Keefe notices, catching his eye and giving a wry shrug. Cheeks burning, Fitz focuses on the food. He has to be overthinking things.
"So, shouldn't you have bodyguards or something?" Biana asks, rearranging the candles to perfect the shot.
"Oh, yeah, they're nearby," Keefe says, with a deeply unrelatable casualness. Fitz immediately swivels around, searching. "But you won't see them. They're just here in case we get papped on the way out."
"Is that gonna happen?" Fitz asks.
"Maybe? Don't worry, I'll protect you." Keefe smiles.
Fitz's entire mouth goes dry. He's saved from a response by Biana crying out, "Okay, now we can eat!"
Dinner goes well after that. Keefe and Biana have a combined charm so strong that Fitz's awkwardness is easily cancelled out, the conversation jumping without a lull. And Fitz really does love Thai food, so his regrets about the evening are waning with each bite.
"Ugh, I just hope I don't spill anything on my shirt. This is, like, my favorite top. If only it weren't white," Biana bemoans.
"Don't worry. My first time at an awards show, I smeared goat cheese all over the sleeve of my tux. And like, it was a good tux. I'd never worn anything that expensive in my life before."
Biana laughs. "What happened? Did you get it off?"
"No," says Fitz. "Someone papped it. And it was a whole thing on the internet. Everyone was joking about the Oscar winner covered in goat cheese."
Keefe stares at him. "I—Yeah, that's exactly what happened. It led to lots of publicity for the brand, but they were still kinda mad at me."
Fitz looks back down at his food, ignoring the absurd protectiveness surging within him. As if he needed to defend a celebrity.
But he wants to defend Keefe, Keefe who looks so earnest and self-effacing right now, cheeks tinged pink.
"Hey, I hope this isn't weird to ask," Biana says, and Fitz prepares himself for something that's no doubt weird to ask, "but why'd you do the whole radio contest date thing anyway?"
Keefe, for the first time all night, freezes. "I... don't know? My management suggested it."
"But why'd you say yes?"
"Because. Well. Seemed like fun."
"That's it?"
"I... Yeah. Fun."
Fitz raises an eyebrow. So does Biana. They decide to leave it alone. "Okay," says Biana lightly.
"Honestly, I didn't expect to go on a date with a girl and her brother," Keefe adds, darting a glance at Fitz, then focusing on his plate. "Not that I mind. This has been great."
Biana nods. "I keep telling Fitz to go on a real date one of these days. Instead, he went to Mongolia for two months."
Which is just great, because Keefe's attention then swings to Fitz too fast for him to wipe the fiery blush off his cheeks and pretend he hadn't been staring. Biana looks at him too, a self-satisfied curl in her lips.
Whatever happened to adopting a dog?
It feels like they're waiting for him to say something. Hoarsely, he manages, "Yeah," but he's not entirely sure what he's agreeing to.
After a moment of looking at Fitz a bit too intensely for his liking, Keefe nods. His voice is back to all cheer when he says, "Oh, okay. Why Mongolia?"
"The desert," says Biana, refusing to elaborate in favor of grabbing another spring roll. Keefe looks more confused than ever.
Fitz takes pity and swats Biana. "It was a paleontology dig in the Gobi Desert."
"Oh. So, like, looking for fossils?"
"Yeah, and the Gobi Desert is great for those. That's where they found the first dinosaur eggs."
"No way," says Keefe, and the light in his eyes prompts Fitz to keep going.
"There are a ton of early mammal fossils there too. I found some of those, but you know, they can get really small. Like, only-a-centimeter small. It's actually really cool."
"I'm sure," Keefe says, gaze unfaltering. His voice is gorgeously low. "What else?"
"Oh, well—"
Fitz finds himself disappointed when the bill comes. On the bright side, they don't get papped leaving the restaurant.
It's weird, because Keefe isn't half as chatty on the drive back. Biana had forced Fitz to sit shotgun, very literally pushing him forward when he protested, so now she gets to sprawl across the backseat while Fitz remains very, very aware of how long Keefe's fingers are, tapping against the steering wheel.
He wonders why Keefe is driving anyway. Don't celebrities have limos and chauffeurs? But also, Fitz has always secretly had a thing for good driving, and Keefe's side profile is a work of art, especially all furrowed in concentration at the road, so he's not really complaining. If Keefe wants to drive them home, so be it. Fitz will just quietly appreciate the view.
"Okay, I think this is it," says Keefe finally, slowing in front of the house. He turns sideways to look at Fitz. "Um. I'll walk with you to the door, if that's okay."
"Thanks so much," Biana says loudly from the back.
Fitz winces, almost hurling himself out of the car so he doesn't see Keefe's reaction. He's going to do it. He's going to kill Biana. The moment they're inside the house, she's dead.
At the front door, Keefe says, "So, um. I had a really nice time tonight. This was fun. I'm glad I could meet you guys."
Biana leans in for a hug. Fitz scrutinizes how quickly Keefe falls into it. "Me too. Let's do it again soon?"
"Yeah, that'd be great."
They both turn to Fitz. Fitz blinks back. "I, um—"
Another evening spent with Keefe Sencen? Who turned out to be easygoing and charming and polite and kind and a million times more beautiful in person?
"Here, I'll give you my personal number," Keefe says.
He's looking directly at Fitz. Everything inside him begins simultaneously screaming WHAT?
Biana says something about having to pee and the front door slams after her.
Now Keefe is taking Fitz's phone—when had he unlocked it?—and there, now he's typing out his number—that's his actual personal number!—and he's smiling at Fitz—that gorgeous, brilliant, perfect smile—and Fitz needs to say something. Now.
"I kind of wish I'd won the radio contest," he blurts.
Keefe's smile slides off his face, his lips forming a perfect circle. Fitz considers diving into the bushes.
"What?"
Fitz is seriously about to kick down his front door. "Nothing." His face is on fire. It's melting off. He's a puddle on the floor, seeping into the dirt.
"Wait," Keefe says, touching Fitz's arm.
"No, it's fine, it's whatever—"
"Wait. I get it."
It's Fitz's turn to say, "What?" He stares at his arm, at Keefe's ridiculously pretty fingers.
"Like, same. I... you know. I also wish you won the date."
Fitz doesn't known what to say.
"I mean, no offense to your sister."
"She won't take offense," Fitz says quickly. "Um."
Keefe's looking at him, eyes big and expectant. Fitz hates that shade of blue. It's like looking into a frosted mirror, a blurry future. "Text me, okay? You have my number."
"Okay."
Fitz watches Keefe head back to his car, blood pulsing under his skin. Keefe waves bye as he leaves. Fitz doesn't look away until long after the car has disappeared, shadowed by the night.