Summer: Day 4

Mack's POV:

I knew lying had its consequences, and I knew lying wasn't right, but in all honesty nobody could blame me.

I mean they could, but they shouldn't. Zachariah and I have known each other for years, and Kylar and I have known each other for years. Like, we really really knew each other. So going behind his back to get attention from his brother was not just a small sin, it was a big one.

Bored, with no intention of staying at my house all day, I grab my keys and head out the front door. I hate my house. Perfect exterior, far from perfect interior. Everything looked nice and homely, but the people who lived inside it could burn in hell.

I mean, not literally, but they just about deserved it.

Everything started going downhill around the same time Zachariah thought he was too good for his own head. My parent's marriage turned into my father sleeping on the couch at night, then into him becoming a workaholic, then an alcoholic, and soon an abusive man altogether.

But don't give my mom any mercy, she wasn't any better. She worked at a club; a bartender by day and slut by night. Nobody in town knew what she did because her job was in another city, but I knew—even if she tried to hide it. Like explain to me what all the revealing clothing is and the countless pairs of high heels that you own?

Long story short, my father drank himself to sleep while my mother's legs gave in, and as soon as the two clashed all hell breaks loose.

That was my secret; nobody knew it was that bad. Not even Kylar. He knew that they fought because I stay at his house when their yelling is unbearable, but he didn't know it was traumatizing. That I hated the roof I grew up under.

I start my car, and look back behind my shoulders before backing out of the driveway. Coast is clear. Or so I thought. The sensor to my car immediately starts beeping as I reverse and I slam on the brakes. Glancing in the rearview mirror, I facepalm myself.

The tall figure walks over to my side and taps on the window. I roll it down and try to swallow the lump forming in my throat. Great. "Hi," I say, my voice squeaking.

He bends down and ducks his head to look at me, sweat glistening on his forehead as his breathing starts calming down. He had just come home from a run. "Hey, sweetheart. What were you trying to do, commit murder?"

"To put you at ease, I'll make it quick," I tease, staring at his beautiful blue irises.

He shakes his head, chuckling. "I'd like to see you try." His eyes were characterised with a look of mischief.

"No thank you," I mutter, turning off the air conditioner. "I'm gonna go accompany Kylar at work."

"Or we can watch a movie?" Zachariah suggests, his attention flickering to the rubberband on my wrist. The contemplation of whether or not to reach for it makes me laugh as his hands ball up into fists, trying to contain himself.

I shake my head. "I want ice cream."

"Ky brought you some yesterday—"

"I ate it all already," I deadpan. "So I'm gonna get some more."

His eyes go wide as he lets out a small chuckle. The brown locks of his hair fall in his face and it takes a lot of my strength to not push them back. "Just a heads up, there's a party this Friday I want to go to. You down?"

"Uh—" I blink. "Yeah, sure."

"Cool," he nods. "See you around?"

I give him a tight-lipped smile. "I am your neighbor after all."

Walking backwards to his house he gives me a lopsided grin. "Bye, Mackenzie."

"Adios," I salute, finally pulling out into the street.

Ice cream here I freaking come.

******

Zach's POV:

Do you ever have those stupid moments where you say the worst thing at the wrong time?

Same.

When I left for college last year, I was actually excited. Hell, I thought I would be living my life. And while it was true that I was fulfilling my expectations to some degree, pop-quizzes, hours of sleep deprivation, and clingy admirers were not part of the plan.

I guess being the starting quarterback to the football team as a freshman didn't help much either. That, and my father was a rich—his net worth tallying in at more hundred-thousands than his age.

But I wasn't what everyone wanted me to be. I didn't sleep around, I hardly drank, and everyone was up my ass about it. So I lied.

Because why would I do that kind of stuff if I had a girlfriend across the country?

Right?

The last person I would've thought to describe was Mack. Mackenzie Lemay. She was always too good for her own nature; innocent, bubbly, but she was the only person that came to mind when referring to 'girlfriend material' back home. And she was goddamn cute. But she was always just cute. Not hot, not drop-dead gorgeous. Just cute, in a sister-type way.

And damn was I taken by surprise when I came home the other day. My judgments had been so wrong. So incredibly wrong. She grew up to be her own person, strong in her own skin, though she still blushed every time we talked. And the way her nose crinkled when she laughed and smiled—whatever. Like I said, she was pretty. That's besides the point.

I was tired of trying to be seduced by the sluts of the school and sick of being told I was a stuck-up bastard, so I said I had a girlfriend. Low blow, I know, but it worked. However, with a statement like that, everything slowly spun out of control.

People started asking questions about our relationship, about her. "What's so great about her?" My answer: everything. "Why her?" My answer: because she's not you. "Who is she?" My answer: Mackenzie. Now, shut up. "She must be special." My answer: I know.

Pretending wasn't the hard end of the deal. It was staying awake at night rethinking my answers to the questions people asked; some days there were none while other days there were too many to count.

When you fake something and everyone believes it, it's so hard to think it's not real. And that's coming for me—the dickhead who pulled Mackenzie into this. Even though we didn't talk for a year, making things up only got me thinking if it was real, if it did happen, how would things be?

The memories of the past came to haunt me and I put puzzle piece after puzzle piece together, causing a light bulb to go off in my head. Every single little interaction we had together, there was a drag in the air—tension. I hated to admit it, but it was there and I couldn't get it off my mind. So the whole year, I didn't call and I didn't reach out, but I had it in my mind to get closure this summer. I came home with a plan. I had to know if there was something between me and my kid brother's best friend.

******

Mack's POV:

Laughing, I get out of my car the same time Kylar does. "Is it just me, or do we have twin telepathy or something?"

"I think that's just you," he states, glancing up at the window of my house. The bedroom light to my parent's room was on, and Kylar gave me a knowing look. "Sleeping over tonight?"

I nod. "Yeah, I'll kick Zachariah out of his room."

"He'll bewitch you with his rudeness," he warns, pointing a finger at me. "Just be careful, Mack."

"Shut up," I grumble, walking towards his house. "Besides, I think I have more stuff of mine in his room than he does. That's what he gets for leaving for a year, it's practically my room now."

"We're slowly moving him out," Kylar says with a grin. "I like the sound of that."

My mouth goes agape. "You're so mean to him."

He raises his hands up in denial. "He's mean to both of us, but you won't grow a pair to defend yourself so I'm double the meanness."

"I just want to go to bed," I mumble, opening the door to the Montgomery house.

"Have fun dealing with the beast," Kylar teases before disappearing into his room.

I roll my eyes. "Whatever."

Walking down the hallway, I stand in front of his plain white door. My knuckles connect with the hollow wood, and sooner than I realize, the door opens to reveal a very exposed Zachariah in a pair of gray sweatpants with no shirt. His brown hair dripped with water as if he just took a shower, and his blue eyes stared at me with questions.

I slap my hands to my face and shriek. "Zach, put some clothes on!"

"I have clothes on," he says in a gruff voice, prying my hands away. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to kick you out," I huff, walking past him through the doorway and into his room. Everything was clean—just the way I always kept it. His room was a pigsty when he left last year so I did a little remodeling and cleaned it up.

He shuts the door behind him and shakes his head with a low grated chuckle. "Sweetheart, I am not sleeping on the couch in my own house. You're more than welcome to sleep on it though."

"Really?"

He laughs. "Oh, by all means."

"Are you insane?" I deadpan, already knowing the answer. Yes, he's insane. "Do you know how vulnerable I'd be to Kylar's pranks if he saw me on the couch?"

He walks over to me. "Well I'm not sleeping out there either."

"Then sleep on the floor." Walking over to the dresser that held some of my clothes in it, I say, "This is technically my room so if—"

"Good," he replies, a smirk reaching his lips. "It's our room now."

I flip him off and grab my pajamas, storming into the bathroom. Fine, then I'll sleep on the floor.

When I'm done getting ready for the night, dressed in a pair of spandex and a cropped hoodie—the humidity is killing me and I cannot wear sweatpants in any weather above seventy degrees, I walk out of the bathroom. With the sound of the door opening, Zachariah looks up from his phone and stares at me.

I freeze. This is when my life feels like a cliché. Say it all you want, you know what's coming.

"Are you done staring?" I ask impatiently.

He clears his throat and looks up at me, shaking his head. "Nope, I'm enjoying the view."

"Pervert," I grumble. Walking to the opposite side of the bed, I grab a pillow and set it on the floor.

"Mackenzie," he whispers.

"Yes, Zachariah?" I'm really not having it.

"I'll sleep on the floor. You can have the bed," he says, peeking his head towards me.

Gleefully, I stand up and smile. "Really? Such a gentleman. I never thought you'd see how big of an ass you were being."

He rolls his eyes and grabs his pillow, chucking it to the ground. He childishly fluffs the pillow a few times before groaning, tossing and turning on the carpet.

I laugh after a few minutes. "Are you trying to make me feel bad for kicking you out of your bed?"

He has his eyes closed, but I see the smirk on his face. "Is it working?"

"Fine. We can share the bed," I say apprehensively, six words in which he quickly shoots up from his place on the floor and into the bed. "But do not touch me. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," he says with sincerity. "I really didn't want to wake up with a sore back tomorrow."

"Go to bed," I mumble, fixing the covers over me as I scoot to the very edge of my side of the bed.

He turns off the light on the nightstand. "Goodnight, sweetheart," he whispers, the smirk in his voice still prevalent.

"Night, asshole."

I don't know how long I laid in bed for, but my eyes wouldn't shut. I couldn't go to bed, which is surprising because I was so tired. I let out a small sigh. Shuffling in my place, I turn into the middle of the mattress before my face meets with Zach's. He was too close. Way too close.

"Can't sleep?" he utters in a low voice, eyes looking down at me.

I shake my head. "You?"

"It's kinda hard to sleep when you're hogging all the blankets," he explains, gesturing to the comforter tangled around my limbs.

My face heats up. "Sorry." I unravel myself from the blanket and sit up, throwing half of it towards him.

"Thank you," he says, a smugness in his voice. "So why are you sleeping here?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't think you care."

"I'd like to think I do," he replies.

I let out a small sigh, grabbing my hair into a messy bun. "My parents."

"What about them?"

"They have problems."

He nods, laying back against the pillow, his chest still exposed to the air. "I'm sorry, Mack."

"Don't be," I snap. "They do it to themselves."

He takes a long look at me, his blue irises dilating a bit before closing his eyes.

"What?" I ask, my curiosity getting the better of me.

His lips form a small smile. "Don't worry about it."

"Whatever," I grumble, getting comfortable in bed. "Remember, no touching."

All he does is laugh, and I fall asleep to the sound of his beautiful voice. "Goodnight."

Author's Note:

I aM sO eXcItEd-

How was Zachariah's first POV appearance? It wasn't much, but it needed to be said <3

Please hit the vote button and let me know your thoughts in the comments!

If you haven't caught on, this is a slow burn romance. These two have a past so complex, it unravels very very slowly... even though it seems like it's moving fast. The chapters go by days, hence why it's day 1, 2, 3, and so on. Thought this was a cute way to show how being in someone's close proximity day by day can make feelings turn! Hope you enjoyed :)