Summer: Day 29 

Zach's POV:

My neck feels like crap in the morning due to the eight hour flight I had last night. Not that I even want to be here, anyways.

Walking down the streets of Los Angeles feels different. Still the same streets, the same homeless people holding signs up on the sidewalk. I still have the same fraternity roommates, and my favorite coffee shop is still on Main Street. But everything just feels off—like LA just isn't cool anymore, like LA lost its charm for me.

Maybe it has, who knows. Sometimes places get boring.

And the only thing that I can say caused this feeling is that Mackenzie isn't here. If she were here, things would be different; I'd still like my home away from home. And maybe, maybe she would too.

When I walk up the street that holds one of my father's many hotels, I groan and roll my eyes at the sight of it. Yes, the money and wealth are good perks to being his son, but I actually hate his guts. To the core. However, to my misfortune, I'm granted the company as an inheritance since I'm the oldest once my father retires, meaning I have to know the roundabouts of the business.

I pull open the glass front doors by their golden handles, the cool air from inside fanning my skin. One of the doormen nods at me and I give him a tight-lipped smile back; no, I am not in the mood to be friendly today. I have a girl and a life back in South Carolina to get back to.

The hallways are rather large for a hotel, but this is one of the nicest places to stay in all of Los Angeles. When I get to the conference room my dad told me to go to, I knock on the door and stand back.

A minute later, his tall figure is present and his sharp eyes appear in the doorway. "Zachariah," he greets, a sly smile on his lips. "Thank you for meeting me."

"I won't be long, can we make it quick?" I snap, brushing past him to take a seat around the large table.

"What's the rush?" he shrugs. "Not like you have anything to do anyways. Your mother spoils you, I spoil you. You don't do anything but eat and sleep and go to parties."

"I do things," I defend, crossing my arms and leaning back against the chair. "But I didn't come here to discuss my life. Cut to the chase."

"This is why I think you'd be a great business partner, and eventual owner," he reminds me like he always does. "So flamboyant."

I roll my eyes and dramatically check my watch. "Why am I here, father?"

"Ah," he finally exclaims. "I called your brother down here a few days ago and he paid me a visit."

"That's why I'm here?" I argue, pushing myself up to get ready to leave.

"Zachariah, sit your ass back down," he demands.

I sigh and relax back in the chair, still apprehensive. "So you called Kylar and he visited you," I reiterate with an attitude, letting him continue.

"Right," he agrees, steepling his chin between his two index fingers. "I proposed a deal with him and gave him an assignment that has a reward of a lot of money."

"Which involves me how?"

His teeth show behind his greedy smile, paper-white and perfectly straight. "That girl next door, Mackenzie, her father Shawn made a business deal with me and turned out to be a fraud."

Mackenzie. Hell no, he better not bring her into this mess.

Business deals are life or death, quite literally sometimes. Especially with companies as big as my father's.

"Don't bring her into this," I deadpan, my voice strong.

He chuckles. "No, I wasn't planning on it. That is, unless she is to any leverage of him."

I clench my jaw.

He wouldn't.

"What is it, son?" he asks when he notices my glare, leaning forward and examining me in a scrutinizing way. "Is there anything else we can accuse him of? You know, I've wanted him in prison a long time ago. Is there something else I don't know about, perhaps any... abusive behavior?"

How the hell does he know?

Right.

Janet.

Stupid ass Janet.

I shift my gaze so that my eyes are locked on his, sending daggers into the blue eyes that mirror my own. "I would choose your next words carefully," I advise through gritted teeth.

"Wow," he starts, the same taunting expression on his face. "You love her too, don't you? Just like your brother."

I ball my fists up and scoff. "Dad, shut up."

"You're so weak," he spits, rolling his eyes. "What's so special about her? Or is it that her daddy was a rich man? I got all the money you need right here, son. Or, maybe, is it that she's so good in bed she let's you fuck her whenever you—"

"I said shut the fuck up!" I shout, having heard enough and finally standing up. "Not that it's any of your fucking business or that you'd even give a damn, but my feelings for Mackenzie are different than Kylar's. What Mackenzie and I have is something even you and mom didn't feel—because you, you are just a cold-blooded bastard. You're selfish, entitled, and don't give two shits about how other people might feel. So do not bring Mackenzie into this, and if you do, you'll be sorry when it's too late."

"You're not scary, son," he chuckles, standing up to match my pace.

"I have a lot of dirt on you too," I state. "Finish your case and put Shawn into jail all you want, but do not mess with my fucking Mackenzie."

He holds his hands up in surrender, licking his lips in a smirk. "Like I said, I wasn't originally planning on it. That is, if Kylar can do his job correctly."

"Why'd you even ask him to do it?" I say, my glare still hard.

"Because he knows more about Shawn's business than I do," he says, nodding to the door. "You can go now."

I shake my head and scoff. "That meeting was fucking pointless."

"No, it wasn't." My father escorts me out of the conference room. "Not pointless at all. So who's gonna get the girl, you or Kylar?"

I take a few steps into the hallway and stuff my hands in the pockets of my jeans. "I honestly think you could care less."

"Mackenzie has always loved you," he deadpans. "And if you can't see that, you're one blind man."

My face contorts to confusion. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"I honestly think you could care less," he suggests, using my own words against me.

"Tell me," I demand, clenching my jaw.

"The business deal was to become business partners with Shawn's company after either you or Kylar were arranged to marry Mackenzie." Arranged to marry Mackenzie! What the hell! My dad shrugs as if this was old news to him. "But Shawn Lemay had other ideas and was plotting the destruction of Montgomery Hotels, so I immediately called off the arrangement. Thankfully, there's a ton of evidence, but if you plan to get involved with Mackenzie, your career and success could be hindered in the future."

I smile, chuckling. "I'm not a coward like you, Richard. Mackenzie is worth losing a couple million dollars over, and I can die a happy man knowing I didn't walk out on the girl who changed me for the better."

"You're still a boy," he accuses.

"Get your facts straight before you try messing with other people's lives. It's not my fault you don't like seeing me do everything right when you know you did everything wrong." And with that, I turned around with the last word, so ready for my flight tomorrow morning.

******

Mack's POV:

Working at the coffee shop isn't how I initially thought it would be. It's actually quite fun, especially having Royce around to help and keep me company. Not only that, but it's pretty entertaining being in the customer service kind of atmosphere. You meet different types of people, interact with vibey personalities, and get to people-watch those sitting around the tables in the coffee shop like an FBI agent.

It made me think about how boring my life has been the past few years, only ever hanging out with Kylar. I was really anti-social, come to think of it.

Shaking me from my thoughts, Royce comes back from his break and pats my shoulder. "How was working the counter by yourself?"

"I managed to make a latte," I chirp, proud of myself. "And I didn't break the machine, so that's a plus. How was your break?"

"Good, I had a call I had to take. Deacon is letting me go early because I have a last minute appointment to go to." Royce washes his hands in the nearby sink. "He'll be helping you until closing."

I nod, my eyebrows lifting. "How fun."

"You won't die," he says, swatting me with a rag. "He's not that bad."

"Perhaps you can define what you consider bad," I argue, putting a hand on my hip. "I think Deacon is the definition of bad."

"And that's where you and I will differ," he observes, shaking his head in a chuckle. "He invited me to hangout later today with a couple other guys, you should come. He said he'd ask you."

I smile, rolling my eyes. "We'll see."

"Or is your boyfriend gonna get upset?" Royce asks playfully, wriggling an eyebrow.

I glare at him teasingly. "Zach's in LA right now attending a business meeting."

"So I see," he says. "Then have a little fun and tagalong."

"I think you need to check your common sense," I reply, cleaning the machine I used earlier. "I don't think I'll be joining you guys."

Royce leaves with a chuckle, allowing me time to myself. In no way am I going tonight.

My self-reserved time doesn't last long, because before I can prepare myself, an intimidatingly tall Deacon is behind the counter with a black apron over his black button down.

"Miss Lemay," he greets me, his sharp smile displayed.

"Sir," I remark, throwing the rag I was using onto the counter.

He nods. "How are you?"

"I was doing fine until you showed up," I grumble, walking towards the other side of the counter. Thankfully there aren't any people in the shop right now.

Deacon follows me with an amused expression. "Mackenzie, I think you forgot that I'm your boss. I don't appreciate being treated rudely by my employees."

"So call me Mack and act professional," I compromise, turning around to face him. "Simple."

"Go out with me sometime and consider it a deal."

"Sir, I told you before that I can't do that," I explain. "Besides, why would you care to go out to dinner with someone as young as me?"

He takes a few steps forward, lowering his head to my level. "You're playing hard to get, so might as well shoot my shot."

I keep my face straight as I say, "I'm not playing hard to get. I am hard to get."

"So challenge accepted," he chuckles, pulling away in amusement.

"Challenge declined," I deadpan, an edge in my voice.

He clicks his teeth and leans back against the marble countertop. "See, that's the thing. Girls think they're playing hard to get, but they're really just testing to see how serious a guy is."

"And your point is?" I ask, bored.

"I'm serious when I say I want to take you out to dinner," he replies, and I'm confused when it looks like he sincerely means it.

I shake my head. "I really don't care."

"You care enough to lead me on," he interjects, defending himself.

"You're just as entitled as the president of the United States," I scoff. "I'm not leading you on, you're just blind and can't take a hint."

He laughs, loudly. "Mackenzie, all you need to do is go out with me once. If you don't like me afterwards, we can forget about it."

"So what, you can sleep with me and add me to the list of girls you've slept with?" I argue, unamused. "Because that's what you really want, don't you?"

He goes to open his mouth, but a customer walks in and I take that as my cue for my break to begin.

I storm off into the break room and let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. That guy gives me a headache. In fact, a major migraine.

When I check my phone, I notice a few text messages from Kylar and a missed call from Zachariah. Smiling, I call him back on FaceTime.

He answers after the first ring, and I'm met with his handsome face. "Kenz," he sighs, content and seeming exhausted.

"Hey bub, I'm on break. How are you?"

"Can't wait to go back," he grumbles.

I laugh and lean forward in my chair, stuffing my chin in my fist. "How was the meeting?"

"Horrible," he deadpans. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"Okay," I comply, smiling at him.

I could stare at him all day and never get bored, creepy as it may sound. His blue eyes, perfect smile, light dimples, hollow cheekbones, and charismatic charm are so hypnotizing, so enthralling. And when I look at him, I feel at peace. I feel at home. He's home.

We don't say anything for a minute, we just look at each other with dumb smiles. "What are you doing?" I ask, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

"I'm just looking at you," he says in a cute, boyish whisper.

"Don't stare at me for too long, I get uglier every second," I warn, crossing my eyes.

He scoffs and throws the phone down on the bed where he's laying. Then he laughs and picks it up, a goofy smile on his face. "You're gorgeous, Kenz. You know that?"

"You're good looking too, handsome," I compliment, trying to hide my blush behind my brown hair.

"No, I mean it," he insists, furrowing his eyebrows. "I hate walking around LA and getting looks from girls. That, and being asked if I'm the quarterback for UCLA," he chuckles. "Other girls don't stand a chance against you, babe, and I laugh when they think they do."

"Shut up," I gush, flushed and flustered.

"Seriously, Kenz. Look at you, you're perfect," he reiterates, staring into the camera with a smile.

"Okay, enough with the compliments." I shake my head and giggle. "When is your flight coming in tomorrow?"

"I leave here at six in the morning and should be there at around four because I have a layover in Georgia," he says, a pout on his lips. "It's too long, I want to kiss you so bad." Zachariah lets out an exaggerated sigh, like he was dying of disappointment.

"How about I pick you up instead of you catching an Uber, and we go out to dinner or something?" I ask, my thinking face serious.

When I look back down at the screen, I see Zachariah's smile widen. "I'd like that."

"Okay," I grin. "See you tomorrow."

"Bye, Kenz." And just as Zachariah says that, Mr. Professional walks into the room.

I put my phone down, my eyes shifting to Deacon's. "Who was that?" he inquires, shutting the door behind him with a mused expression.

"A friend," I say, smirking. "Why would you care?"

"Never said I cared," he voices, walking over my way. "Did Royce mention hanging out tonight? We were gonna go to the boardwalk with a couple other guys, you could join."

"No thanks, I'm good." I pick my phone up again to check the time. Standing up, I thank the coffee gods when I see that my shift is over. "I'd rather kiss a hobo's ass than spend time with a bunch of guys four years older than me."

"You forget that I'm your boss," he says, challenging me.

"I didn't forget, Sir. I'm the one reminding you that office and romance is a horrible combination," I chide. "So if you will excuse me, I would appreciate it if I could leave now that my shift is over."

"I can pay you for overtime if that's the issue," he smirks, cocking his head to the side.

"The issue is that you like giving me a hard time for rejecting you and bruising your ego," I reply, smirking to myself.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," he dismisses, the same eerie smile on his face.

I give him a two-faced smile back and grimace once he's out of eyeshot. Oh, I can't wait until Zachariah meets Deacon. That's gonna be a sight to see.

Author's Note:

that was- *coughs* drama-filled, huh?

BUT then again, when are my chapters not dramatic? Haha, never...

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