Summer: Day 10

Mack's POV:

3:47 A.M.

That's what time it is.

I lie in bed awake, thinking about everything that has spiraled out of control within the last twenty four hours. Mom still isn't home yet—I'd know because the arguing would've started by now—but I know Dad is lounging on the couch probably drunk and asleep.

Sighing, I glance at my clock again. 3:48 A.M. Even the minutes don't go by fast, making the pain in my chest even more unbearable.

It's funny to think that in the heat of an argument, someone can decide to leave. Forever, temporarily, for a minute, or never. My mom never left nor did dad despite their constant bickering. But Kylar, he left in the face of adversity. He just left, walked right out the front door, and decided our friendship wasn't worth the fight, worth the explanation.

Oddly so, he knows I have my little fantasy of Zachariah. He knows that I fancy his older brother, and while he's always warned me about him, he knows I'd never do anything stupid. Even if it was for Zachariah. Because above all, Kylar was my best buddy—my wingman, and Zachariah was a small burning flame of my heart's desire.

But he's more than just a fantasy now, more than just a dream. He's letting me back into his life after all these years. I know I have to be careful with him because as soon as he is done with me, he'll leave—like he did four years ago. It's nice to imagine though, being someone he admires—but I don't like pretending everything he did back then never happened.

We have chemistry and he knows it.

3:50 A.M.

Shrugging, I sit up in my bed and decide to make myself a cup of coffee. I know I won't be getting any sleep tonight considering there are an infinite number of questions in my mind right now. I roll my shoulders back and stand up, rubbing my eyes to adjust to the light I just turned on.

When I walk downstairs, I hear the whisper of the TV playing, its screen lighting up and illuminating the living room. That's when I see my dad, fully awake yet drunk, sipping a bottle of beer. I try to invisibly saunter into the kitchen unnoticed, but it takes a turn real fast; plan A executed poorly.

"What are you doing up?" Dad sneers, his eyes red and bloodshot.

My eyes go wide the minute I hear his booming voice. "I was just—"

"You were getting me another beer," he slurs, chugging down the rest of the bottle. I go to take it so I can throw it away, but he has another plan in mind. He throws the glass bottle at me hard, hitting my arm before it falls to the ground. Thankfully it doesn't shatter.

I fight the tears forming in my eyes and keep my back tall before descending into the kitchen to grab him another drink. I don't take long because of the consequences I could face, and when I return, he looks at me disgusted. "Here."

He snatches it from my hand, opening it aggressively with the bottle opener next to him. "You're such an ungrateful brat. What are you doing up this late?"

"I—I couldn't sleep," I whisper, letting a small tear fall as my arm thumps in agony. God, he makes me feel so horrible.

"Don't you dare cry," he yells, his voice sharpening with every vowel. "I'll give you a reason to cry."

I shake my head as he gets up from his seat on the couch. "No Dad, please don't."

He sits back down and gives me a stern expression before taking another swig of his beer. "Your mother should've never had you—"

"You're just as bad as me, Shawn." I lift my chin up as his eyes go red in anger. "Mom isn't home right now and we both know why. You, you're drunk and alone, and me—well I'm leaving." Since when did I talk back? Since everyone decided it was okay to make me feel like crap.

He gets up from his seat on the couch in one swift motion, but before he can catch me I'm already out the front door. I run twenty feet to the Montgomery house and quickly fish out the spare key under the flower pot. Quietly, I unlock the door in a hurry and shut it behind me, locking it as I let out a shaky breath. Tears stream down my face and my arm throbs where I was hit by the bottle.

I tiptoe down the hall to Zachariah's room, the squeaky floorboards screeching every now and then with my small steps. I hold my ear up to his door—I learned my lesson last time, and I'm relieved when everything is dead silent. I turn the knob to check if his door is unlocked, and thankfully it is.

In the moonlight, Zachariah's figure can be sketched almost perfectly. His jaw is taut, a frown appearing on his delicious-looking lips, while his eyebrows are furrowed together like he was thinking about something. I trail my teary eyes to his naked torso, muscularly defined and tempting—okay, I'm supposed to be sad. But yes, he's very tempting.

I shuffle my feet towards his bed before gently letting myself up, mimicking his sleeping position on top of him. I let out a small sniffle as my wet eyelashes brush against his neck.

Zachariah stirs a little and I snuggle deeper into him, crying silently. He lets out a small groan, shifting a bit. "Macken—"

I bring one of my small fingers up to his lip, biting down a sob from my own. "Sleep."

He doesn't listen, scooting up higher on the bed so he can sit up. "Are you crying?" he asks in a croaky voice, quiet but loud enough for me to hear.

"Just go back to bed," I whisper, wiping my face with my hands as he shifts me to sit in his lap. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

Zachariah gives me a worried look, an expression of guilt and hurt portrayed on his features. "Talk to me, Kenz." That nickname. He brushes a hand along my arm and I wince unexpectedly.

I pull his hand away. "No, no it's okay."

He notices my reaction and immediately interrogates. "What happened?" His voice is soothing and welcoming, making me want to tell him—everything.

Shaking my head, I turn my attention to my trembling hands. "Nothing."

His hand finds my arm again and he rubs it, this time more gently. "Mackenzie, please talk to me."

"It's just my dad," I mumble, pinching my eyes shut. "He gets like this sometimes. It's okay—"

"It's not okay," he says, tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. "No, alright? It's not okay, Mackenzie." He searches my eyes and rubs a thumb along the back of my hand.

I cup my face in my hands as I sob. "It's fine."

"Come here." He pulls me to him and I agree to his warm embrace. His finger draws circles on the small of my back as he cooes in my ear, murmuring soothing words. "I don't like seeing you cry, Kenz. I'm here, you're safe now. Nothing's gonna happen if I'm here, okay?"

I nod into him, running my hands through the small hairs on the nape of his neck. "Thank you."

He leans his head on my shoulder, whispering, "I want to be here for you. I want to show you that I care."

"I know you do," I sigh, letting my nostrils take in his heavenly scent.

"I want a redo," he explains after a minute of silence, brushing my back with his fingers. "I'm sorry that we fell off. It was never my intention, it kinda just happened."

I pull back to look at him, my eyes finally able to make out his perfect face. "I'm sorry too."

"Don't be, it was my fault." Zachariah wipes a stray tear from my cheek. "I want to figure this out."

"What out?" I inquire, brushing my fingers against his chin.

Shaking his head, he lets out a deep breath. "I don't know, but we have a lot of catching up to do."

I nod in agreement.

"I want to get to know you," he admits, looking into my green eyes as his blue ones twinkle. "To see how you've been, to know the things I've missed out on all these years."

I let out a shaky laugh, running my fingers along his collarbone. "And here I thought I was just your kid brother's best friend."

"And then you grew up," he replies, tilting my chin to him.

I give him a weak smile, nuzzling into his touch more. "I missed you, bub."

"I missed that nickname," he laughs, playing with the tips of my hair. "Do you think Kylar will be alright?"

I shrug. "He'll get over it eventually. I still feel bad about lying and sneaking around. He'd love to hear about my fake boyfriend expositions, though he'd kill me if he knew it was you."

"We all grew up together, Kenz." Zachariah twirls a strand of my brown locks around his index finger. "And he doesn't get to decide your life. You can be whoever you want and hangout with whoever you want."

"I know."

He nods. "Can we establish something now that you know what I want this summer?"

I smile, humming in response. "What?"

"We need to talk about our past and figure out what the hell went on between us," he says, running a hand through his sleepy head of hair. "I've been thinking about it for the last year, and I need to know before I go back across the country. Can we come to terms with that?"

"Yeah." I nod, convincing myself. "Communication is important." We can talk about the past, right?

"And we'll be honest?"

"Of course."

"And we'll take it slow," he says.

"Okay."

Zachariah smiles, pulling me back against him so we're laying down. His arms encircle me and I rest my head next to his on the pillow. "Goodnight," he whispers.

"Night, bub."

I feel his smile against my neck as he nuzzles his nose into my skin.

******

Zach's POV:

Waking up, I let out a sigh against the pillows underneath me at the thought of the conversation I had with Mackenzie yesterday. After Kylar walked out on her, after she said she didn't want a relationship with him, I told myself that it's now okay to take a step into our complicated past.

I hate thinking about it.

But I know I need this as much as she does.

When we were little, Mackenzie became Kylar's best friend. That was in kindergarten, when I was in second grade. She used to call Kylar 'kite' and she named me 'bubble,' which later turned into 'bub' as we got older. Kylar called her 'Mack' and I shortened her name to 'Kenz.' But Mackenzie and I's exchanged nicknames for each other dissolved over our period of absence.

And as she grew up, she didn't want to be called Mackenzie. So what did I do? I called her Mackenzie to get under her skin.

"Coffee?" she chirps, walking through the door with a bright smile on her face.

I nod, taking the cup from her hands. "Morning."

"Hi."

My eyes fall to her arm where there's a fresh bruise on her skin. "How are you feeling?"

"Great actually," she says enthusiastically, sipping her own cup of coffee. "My arm hurts, but I'm happy." She sits down on the bed across from me.

I smile at her. "Yeah?"

She nods. "Yup."

And then my smile increases as she looks down at her feet, rubbing them against my own. It's good to have her back—not completely, but we'll get there. Seems to me like she's already doing better.

When you're an absolute jerk to someone for a long time, you expect to never be forgiven. However, when I said there will only ever be one Mackenzie, I meant it. She never holds a grudge, even if the person deserves the silent treatment. She'll have her fair share in the argument and then she's finished; the wind blows over her head.

Obviously, being in each other's company is the easy part. Talking is the hard part, and that's when things might get uncomfortable.

Because with Mackenzie, I draw a line when we get too close for comfort.

I've already done it once.

Author's Note:

Gawd, they're so pure *twinkling eyes*

Make sure to vote and comment if you enjoyed! <3