[CONTENT WARNING: there may be some sexual content? lol, who knows...]

Summer: Day 20

Zach's POV:

"I can't believe Kylar spent the night at my house last night," Corey grumbles, ruffling up his hair. "I mean, that kid is your little brother. It's weird."

"Trust me, I one-hundred percent agree."

He shrugs. "Britney seems happy though, I've never seen her date before. I mean, at least Kylar is a nice guy."

"Yeah, real nice," I mutter.

If only people knew how Kylar and I didn't get along. How messed up we are inside and out.

Everyone used to think we were the perfect set of brothers, the typical 'he'll follow in your footsteps' type of brothers. If anything, he doesn't follow me in admiration, he follows me so he can ruin everything I want, and in reality, everything I get.

For instance, the biggest crime he's committed, Mackenzie.

He knew me and Mackenzie were a thing from forever ago. The holding hands, kisses on the cheek, the flirting, the touching, smiles, jokes, laughs, the eye contact. Everything. He knew all of that, because we let him. We let him know it was me and Mackenzie. That it was us. That Mackenzie and I had our own story, separate from theirs.

If only he understood how much that actually meant to me back then, and how much more so it matters now.

An email appears on my screen, and I nudge Corey next to me. "Dude, it got approved."

"What did?"

"Listen," I say, opening the attachment.

To: Mr. Zachariah Montgomery
From: gilliganmanagement.com

Dated: June 25, 2021
Subject: Rental Application Approved for Gilligan Suites

Mr. Montgomery:

I have read your rental application that you submitted a week ago, and I am glad to tell you that I am accepting you as one of my new tenants for Gilligan Suites. After review of your application, you are the tenants I need to stay at my building.

"Tenants?" Corey cut me off, giving me a confused look. "As in plural?"

Ignoring him, I continue;

You said in the letter that your girlfriend was in dire need of a place to stay, given that her home life wasn't the best. I do my best as a landlord to help out those who need it the most. So with that, you two are the perfect candidates for the apartment.

First of all, I'd like to reiterate the monthly expenses which is—

"None of your business," I tell Corey, shaking my head. I skip that paragraph and read the last one out loud;

If you are still interested, please meet me at the ground floor of Gilligan Suites this afternoon at 3 PM. We will sign the paperwork that agrees to the renting of this apartment.

Best regards,
Kurt Reagan
Landlord

"Hold up," he says, slapping me in the arm. "You two are moving in together? Isn't that a bit... fast?"

"No, idiot," I laugh, screwing up my face. "No, I won't be living with her. I'm getting Mackenzie an apartment for her birthday."

He relaxes at my words and nods. "Wow, that's—wow."

"What?" I ask, knowing the wheels are spinning in his head.

"It's very... official?" he continues. "You really like her then."

"Well yeah?" I reply, raising an eyebrow. "I thought you knew that."

He nods, taking in the new information. "I just thought she was—I don't know, a temporary thing to you."

"She's far from temporary."

"Alright, man." He glances at me and then looks away with an untold emotion.

Pushing his weird behavior to the side, I ask, "Would you come with me to sign the papers?"

"Of course." He masks his face with a smile. "Hey, when's her birthday?"

"The 30th of this month."

******

Mack's POV:

At the grocery store, I make a beeline to the baking aisle. And drumroll please, we're getting pancake mix.

Because what's life without pancakes?

That's right: nonexistent.

I tap my fingers to my chin in deep thought as I look at the different brands. I already know which one I want, but might as well kill time while I'm here.

Zachariah left for the gym early this morning, so I went home and dealt with my mom before she went to work. It was the usual argument; how I was being such a disapproving daughter in her eyes as she told me to get a life. Trust me, woman. You're a hypocrite yourself.

And when I brought my dad up, she slammed the door in my face. You snooze, you lose, I suppose. I should've tried to bring up the topic when we weren't in the heat of an argument. But then again, when am I not in a debacle with my parents?

And answer please: sadly, never.

I grab the box of mix that I always get and start humming to the song playing in the store. Why live life in the depressing lane? I'm always walking around in a happy-go-lucky mindset because without it, I'd be far worse off than I can even fathom.

When I turn down the aisle, I'm met with a person who looks too familiar to forget about.

Ember brown hair and green eyes.

Coffee.

Baristo.

Bob.

Royce.

Bingo!

"Royce," I say, giving him a small smile.

He looks at me confused for a moment, and as if light bulbs went off in his head, he says, "You're the pretty girl who came into the coffee shop on opening day."

To my dismay, I blush at his compliment. "Mackenzie. And yeah, we never got to finish our drinks though, my boyfriend and I had to leave."

"Well you guys should stop by again," he offers, a grin from ear-to-ear finding its way to his face. "In fact, we're still hiring. Would you be interested at all?"

I think for a moment. I mean, I'm really lazy and don't do anything—like ever. Maybe that's why my mom is always pestering me about getting a life and being a teen for once.

"Maybe," I say with a promising tone. "I'll think about it."

"It's a great summer job." Royce stuffs his hands in his pockets, looking down at me. "The application is on our website, take a look at it."

"I will," I reply.

I salute him and hug the pancake mix to my chest. Maybe I could get a job. Maybe I could use one. After all, college is a year away and hopes for a scholarship can only get you so far.

I check out and walk to my car, allowing the warm summer breeze to hit me. Sunkissed skin, flowy hair too messy to care, and denim shorts are my favorite combination. Summer is just my season.

Driving down the street, I admire the familiarity of it all. Growing up in a small, little beach town is comforting in a way. The same humid weather, the same seasalt wind, the same old streets. My old elementary school, middle school, the boardwalk, the carnival grounds. Everything has a memory. A story. And it's good to know that some things never change.

I pull up into my driveway, but instead of going into my house, I walk into the Montgomery's. I put the pancake mix in the cupboard to replace the one I used up, and pour myself a cup of coffee. One thing about the Montgomery house; there's always coffee brewing.

I take the cup of warmth and dance down the hallway, still having the song from the convenience store playing in my head.

Zachariah's room is just how I left it. Vacant, boyish, with a small hint of my perfume in the air. Just how I left it, just how I like it.

Posters of football players were up on the walls, sports magazines stacked on his desk, his bedsheets nicely made from when I got out of bed this morning. His clothes neatly put away because he knows my pet peeve about having a messy room. Even the pictures on the walls are squared evenly with each other, thanks to my OCD.

I sip my coffee, going to the dresser where I learned to keep my clothes. Pulling out my usual spandex and sports bra, I take them with me to the bathroom so I can take a shower. I was still in my hoodie and sweatpants from last night, and boy did I look like a mess.

Oh crap, Royce saw me like this.

So much for good impressions.

I laugh at myself before getting in the shower. It's funny how the Montgomery house is my house. I could've easily gone to my room to take a shower, but I didn't. I could've just put the pancake mix in my house, but I didn't. I could've slept at my house last night, but I didn't.

In fact, I didn't need to invite myself over here, but I did. Because I'm welcomed here, unlike my house. I'm beaten and scrutinized there.

I take Zachariah's shampoo in my hand and rub it into my scalp, his infamous scent intoxicating my nostrils. Everything about him; his hair, his eyes, his shoulders, his back, his abs, his hands; everything about him comes to mind. No, not in a sexual way—even though yes, a girl shall have her fantasies.

But every time his name comes to mind, I think of him as someone who makes my heart warm, full, happy. Someone who doesn't even have to smile at me to make me feel approved, validated.

I scrub the rest of my body before I rinse and turn the water off.

The glass doors are foggy, so I decide to write something.

Can we even call this fake?

Immediately, I wipe it away with the squeegee. Don't think like that.

I shake my head at myself and step out of the shower. I dry myself off with the towel and look at my figure in the mirror. Thankfully, I have no recent bruises from my dad—he's been MIA lately, but I still have the small scar on my lower abdomen where he pulled a knife on me.

We don't talk about that.

I put my clothes on and try to forget about that memory. I hate it. I hate that every time I see myself, I see that scar.

My hair is wet from washing it, so I use the hair dryer to fix it. I like my hair; sometimes it seems too long, but I like it down to my waist. It's one of the things I actually like about my appearance, it's a confidence booster.

My motto: When your hair looks good, all of you looks good.

I trot out of the bathroom and put my clothes in the dirty bin. And just when I thought I'd be alone, I hear two deep voices booming in laughter down the hallway. One I recognize as Zachariah, and the other one I can't make out.

After all, I don't pay attention to guys other than Zachariah and Kylar.

I quietly walk down the hallway, overhearing their voices. It's funny how you can laugh with someone one second, and be arguing the next.

"I swear, you're down bad for her," someone jokes. Oh, Corey. That's who it is. "She must be really good in bed for you to settle down."

"Not everything is defined by having sex with a girl," Zachariah deadpans, his voice low and static.

Corey laughs. "With you it is. What happened to that burn book of yours that had a description of every girl you slept with?"

"Don't bring that up," Zachariah seethes, demand in his voice. "I burned it, it was a stupid book."

"Why are you getting so defensive, bro?"

Zachariah lets out a frustrated sigh. "Because, goddammit, I don't want you bringing up my past. Like at all."

I furrow my eyebrows together. So he regrets everything he did?

I take a few more steps down the hall so I can see their faces.

"Fine," Corey surrenders. "I get it, you only wanna be inside Mackenzie. I mean, I wouldn't blame you—"

The absurdity of his comments right now.

"Stop talking." Zachariah glares at Corey with so much anger before dropping his gaze to the rubberband still on his wrist.

"Oh my god..." Corey's jaw drops. "You guys haven't even fucked yet, have you?"

Zachariah looks at his hands, examining them in shame. Sure, when your best friend ruins your image like that, I'd be ashamed too.

I melt at the sight of Zachariah looking so lost as his buddy laughs at him. Confidently, I stride up to where they are sitting on the couch, my chin held high.

"Kenz!" Zachariah groans, not even caring that I heard their conversation. "Please go put on some clothes."

"I won't have them on for long anyways," I say, challenge in my voice. Sitting myself in Zachariah's lap, I aim a wink towards Corey. "You can even watch if you want."

Corey looks at us dumbfounded, and before he can say anything in return, I place my lips on Zachariah's neck.

Kissing someone you've dreamt about kissing is different when you do it to save their image. But when you love someone the way I love Zachariah, it doesn't matter how or when it's done, the simple act of just kissing them is enough.

Zach's hands find my hips, gripping onto them tight. "Go," he demands, his voice firm yet strained. "Leave, Corey."

"She said I could watch," he says, a playfulness in his voice.

I internally laugh as I bite down on Zach's skin. He lets out a small moan and grips me tighter. "Leave now."

And without a second thought, Corey is up and out the door.

I continue trailing kisses down Zachariah's neck, sucking and biting every so often. When he puts his head back against the cushion to give me full access, I take advantage of it. He's sweet like honey, like everything I've always wanted. His moans, grunts, and hands on my body has me over the edge in my thoughts.

I know I've just crossed a certain threshold in our relationship.

This was no simple kiss on the forehead or cheek to prove a point to his friends. This was challenging, testing, me showing him how much I want him.

In the midst of euphoria, Zachariah walks us over to his room and we end up in his bed. He's allowing me control, and damn do I feel hot. One of his hands on my waist and his other on the back of my head, guiding me, keeping me close to him.

"Kenz," he whispers, his breathing very much labored.

I bite down on his collarbone in response.

"Fuck," he mumbles.

Shyly, I start grinding my hips against him and he groans, releasing his hands from me to take a fist full of the duvet cover. My lips graze the skin from his collarbone to his ear, and biting down on his earlobe, I say, "No, I want your hands on me."

In a millisecond, he finds my hips again, letting me grind against his as he hardens underneath me. He moans when I reach his soft spot, sucking and pulling on the sensitive skin on his neck.

I let out a small sigh when he grows more firm against me. My breathing shaky, I pull away and look him in the eyes, his two shades darker, mine probably full of lustful confidence.

My hands start messing with the buttons of his shirt while I go back to placing open-mouthed kisses along his skin. I feel his gaze watching me, allowing me to do whatever I want to him.

And when I reach the last button, I take him in. All of him.

His perfect physique, his perfect body. He's all I want.

Biting my lip, I shift in my seat and place a hand on his bulge. He's more than hard. I internally pat myself on the back.

I grip him through his pants and he curses in Italian before looking up at me. And just as fast as his lustful eyes came, they went away in a flash, his hand shooting out to wrap around my wrist.

"Not now, Kenz," he mumbles, hurt laced in his voice. "I'm not ready."

I give him an innocent look and blush, removing myself from on top of him. He catches my waist before I can go and pulls me on top of him.

"Hey now, don't leave," he says, almost a bit offended. "I still want you with me."

I don't reply, I just bury my face in his chest.

"You smell like me," he whispers, twirling his fingers in my hair. After a minute, he continues, "It's not that I don't want you to, okay? I'm just not ready. Not after what Corey said to me."

"Okay," I mutter, my voice small and short.

"Do you know what a safe word is?" he asks, lifting my head up so I can meet his gaze.

I think for a moment. "Yeah, a word that immediately withdraws consent?"

"Yeah, basically," he agrees, running his thumb along my eyebrow. "You use it when you're uncomfortable, when you want the other person to stop. So you feel safe, protected. It's about trust."

"I don't wanna think about Fifty Shades of Grey," I say with a small giggle. "That's like BDSM."

"Same concept though," he continues. "I want us to develop a safe word. So that if we ever talk about or do something we're uncomfortable with, we have an out."

"Okay."

"So what's our word?" he asks, now tracing my nose.

"I don't know."

"It has to be something that can't be misinterpreted," he explains, knitting his eyebrows together. "Something that makes sense out of context, something random."

I think for a moment, my eyes scanning his room. They fall on his white high school football uniform, the big letter five on the back. "Jersey?"

"Like football?"

"Yeah," I say, a smile on my face. "Because we both like football. Safe enough?"

He nods approvingly. "I like it."

"Okay."

"So if you ever feel uncomfortable or unsafe, you just need to say the word."

I nod. "Jersey."

And he hugs me tighter, our bodies flush together. I feel safe, incredibly safe when I'm with him.

Author's Note:

Ah, I seriously love this chapter.

OK so long story short, I had this chapter planned out for such a long time, haha! Glad I can finally let out a small glimpse of my erotic writing BAHAHA but yeah—anyways, adios <3

Also, let's just clarify that this isn't her first literal kiss yet [it was only his neck, sheesh]

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