Summer: Day 6

Zach's POV:

I don't like Mackenzie. In no way do I like her.

This is just fun.

And this is to expose the effect I have on her. The effect that I know I have.

In attempting to butter her up for the last six days so that she'll eventually find me irresistible, she's already proven to fall for the small things that I do. Because that's what I do, it's what I've always done.

If I can remember correctly, the only person I was ever seriously interested in was my best friend's little sister. Even then, she wasn't the girlfriend type. She was great in bed, had a stunning body, and her blonde hair radiated off of her like an angel. But then things happened, and she told me to get my priorities straight.

So I ditched her.

Because that's what I did best.

Because I knew what she meant by 'priorities,' and I scoffed at the mere idea of it.

It's funny how someone as pretty as Mackenzie could go unnoticed by me for so many years. If she was this hot a couple years ago, she would've been deflowered by now. Or at least under my radar. Her petite figure is toned and curvy with brown hair that curtains all the way down to her tiny waist. She has green eyes so observant and mesmerising, and small freckles coat her nose, tattooing her skin. I've never really liked freckles, but I guess she pulls them off.

Like I said, I don't like her. She's just pretty.

Glad we made that clear.

Mackenzie is one of those hopeless romantics, always watching the dumb romantic movies on Netflix and reading romcoms that cause her hopes and expectations to triple—and yes, that makes my job easier, trying to solve this unspoken energy between us. But trust me, guys like that aren't real. I know that because I've met enough douchebags to speak on behalf of the male population.

They say nice things to win your heart, then they cheat, they get bored, and if they have enough balls, they'll sleep with your best friend.

Sorry to burst your little bubble, sweetheart.

And me? I would do the same thing. Well, that was my attitude for most of highschool. I always did the quote-on-quote 'manwhore works.' I went to parties every weekend, got my share of one-night-stands, and lived off of pure, teenage raging hormones. And it was fun. But the night of junior prom changed that, knocking some sense into me.

And while college is notorious for 'the works,' I couldn't bring myself to get in bed with someone I didn't know—and if I did know them, I didn't want sex.

I admit, sometimes I was sexually frustrated. But every time I thought of doing the dirty with someone, my mind raced back to that night. And I wish I could forget about it.

Maybe that's what broke the camel's back. I'll never forget what was said to me—the words that crushed my ego in a span of two minutes. And it's not that that particular person confessed anything, she just hinted at something. Something I never caught on to. Which adds up to why I am where I am right now, trying to figure out this strained relationship between me and you know who.

Also, maybe that's why she was the first person that came to mind when I started this whole thing. I mean, it makes sense; the girl who practically changed my whole perspective would be the girl who becomes my fake girlfriend.

I let out a sigh and turn the shower off, drying myself with a fluffy towel. Shower thoughts, am I right?

Wait. Am I the only one who has their deepest thoughts in the shower?

I am such a loser, man.

Groaning, I dress myself and get ready for the day. I hit the gym this morning and my muscles already ached in pain. I guess that's what happens when you workout your feelings.

"Monty, honey." Mom knocks on my bedroom door and a smile finds its way to my face. She's the only one with the Montgomery last name that actually receives a genuine smile from me; Kylar can suck ass and Dad can drown in his money.

Opening the door, I run a hand through my hair. "Hey Mom, what's up?"

"Just coming to let you know I'm leaving for work, my boy." She gives me a small hug and lets go too soon. "I have to savor every hug because you'll be gone before I know it," she sighs, patting my shoulder.

"I love you," I say with a smile.

She returns the smile. "I know, and I love you more."

I'm not one to hide my affection for my mother—because unlike some people, my mom has gone through a hell of a lot to get us where we are today. She's a strong, undoubtedly beautiful woman who deserves more than what she's been made out to be.

My stupid prick of a father ruined that for all of us. Ruined the perfect family everyone thought we were.

"Okay," she says with a clap. "I better get going. Be safe and don't burn the house down."

"Have a good day at work," I reply, her figure retreating through the hallway.

I pull a hoodie over my head before heading to the kitchen to fix myself a cup of coffee. That's when I hear Kylar and Mackenzie arguing about who's better at driving. I swear, those two live in their own world of gumballs.

"Morning," I grumble, walking into the kitchen.

Both of them look my way, a small smile on Mackenzie's lips as Kylar sends me a scowl.

"Hi, asshole," he says, annoyed.

"Shut up, dimwit."

"What?" he taunts, his eyes swimming with amusement. "The girl you met yesterday didn't want to come home with you or something?"

I clench my jaw and glare at him, sending daggers with my eyes. "Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't meet anyone yesterday."

"Oh, it must've been this morning then," he continues, looking into La La Land as if he was deep in thought.

"Are you done?" I raise an eyebrow at my brother, my eyes glancing at Mackenzie who looks like she'd rather be almost anywhere but witnessing this conversation.

He shakes his head. "No, I'm not. You're such a suck up, bastard, and you're an arrogant jackass. You show up unannounced after ignoring both Mackenzie and I for a year, you already act like you own the house, and mom is singing your sweet praises after less than a week."

"Don't bring Mackenzie into this," I return, my eyes looking a little helplessly at her. Turning my attention back to my stupid brother, I say, "Just admit that you're jealous I know what I'm doing with my life while you're over here wearing a pink shirt that says 'Everything tastes better with' goddamn fucking 'sprinkles.'"

He's up on his feet in a millisecond and comes striding towards me. "Pink is a very manly color," he argues, getting in my face. "And I have a right to bring Mackenzie into this because she won't defend herself."

"Mackenzie is a big girl, Ky." My lips curl into a small smirk. "I bet you're just insecure that she hasn't professed her undying love for you yet."

And that's all it takes to push him over the edge, causing him to recline his arm to strike a blow. But before his fist can make contact with my beautiful face, a small hand catches his wrist and yanks him back.

"Kylar, stop!" Mackenzie shouts, pushing him away from me. "Stop. Just—just stop." The last 'stop' coming out as a sigh.

"What?" Kylar says, looking at her sheepishly. Talk about suck up, he's practically ogling his eyes out.

"What the hell?" she demands more aggressively this time, hitting his chest again.

He grabs both her wrists and shakes his head. "Calm down, macaroni. As much as I love the feisty side of you, I don't want you to ruin this handsome face of mine." He sounds like me. Ew.

She stares up at him with a glare. "I don't want you hitting your brother," she deadpans. Thank you, Mackenzie. Though, his punches don't hurt. I've already lived through a hundred of them.

"And why not?" he challenges, glancing back at me.

"Because—because of a lot of reasons," she stammers before continuing, "I just don't want you to punch him, okay? His face is too pretty to have a black eye." She says the last part under her breath, but I still hear it.

Kylar rolls his eyes and submits to her request. "Fine. I won't ruin my brother's face."

"Thank you," she whispers.

"You should be lucky I have so much love for you, Mack." He ruffles his blonde hair up a tad. "And you," he says, pointing at me. "You don't get to talk about her like that. She's my best friend for goodness sake—"

"And I'm your brother."

"Then start acting like it," he deadpans, shooting me one last glare before facing Mackenzie again. "I gotta go to work now, pooper. See you later?"

She rolls her eyes at him. "I don't know, Ky."

"Fine then," he grumbles, grabbing his keys off the hook. "No ice cream for you."

"Fine with me!" she shouts as he slams the front door. "Ice cream up my butt and around the corner."

I turn around and walk back into the kitchen to make myself the much needed cup of coffee I've been craving since the gym. Grabbing my favorite mug, the one my dad used to use when things were good within our family, I pour the caffeine-filled drink to the brim.

"You," Mackenzie scolds, strutting her way down the wood floors. "What you did was a jerk move, mister."

I sip my coffee, letting the bitter taste dance around my tongue. "He started it."

"He's on his period," she laughs, a small smile reaching her face before it turns back into a flared frown. "But that doesn't justify his or your actions. Can you please just be nice to each other? I don't like the sound of arguing—"

"I'll try," I say with a soft voice. "But he's got some horrible anger issues."

"Like you don't," she mutters.

I walk past her to a chair on the other side of the island. "Ready for tomorrow?"

"Actually," she says, nibbling her bottom lip. Damn her. "I don't have anything to wear. That dress from last week was the only thing I own worthy of partying in, and I haven't had time to pick up something else."

I raise an eyebrow at her. "Are you suggesting I take you out to go shopping and be a romantic guy or something?"

"What? No, no, no," she replies, her face rising in a hot red color. "No. I was just saying—"

I chuckle at her embarrassed state. She's too easy. "When I'm done with my coffee, we can go. How about that?"

"Really?"

I nod. "Really."

"Thank you," she whispers, fixing herself a coffee of her own.

"You're welcome," I reply and hesitantly add with a cool demeanor, "I do love seeing girls in skin-tight dresses."

With that, she glares at me and flips me the finger. "Pervert."

******

I DIDN'T KNOW shopping could be so tiring, but leave it to girls to change that for you.

"Zachariah!" Mackenzie grumbles from the fitting room. "Can you help me zip this stupid thing up?"

Chuckling, I shake my head to myself and give the worker a questioning look. "May I?"

The old lady smiles and nods at me. "Sure thing. You're a good boyfriend to her," she whispers. "So many guys dread taking their girls shopping, but you look happy doing it." Women and their fantasy versions of men.

"Thank you," I say, ignoring her comment as I hurry into the dressing room before Mackenzie decides to start with her death wish humor.

I knock on the door to the room she's in and she lets out a few curse words before opening it. "Thank goodness. The zipper's stuck and it's in an awkward place that makes me feel like my muffin top is sticking out," she mumbles, turning around so that I can access the zipper.

"You don't have a muffin top, Mackenzie." I move her brown hair to a single shoulder, training my eyes solely on the zipper. "You're—" Perfect? "You have a nice body."

"Oh my god," she blurts out with a small smirk. "You are a perv."

I let out a small laugh before zipping her dress up. "There you go." My eyes flicker up to the mirror where her eyes are examining her own figure. The dress looks great—especially on her.

It was a rose pink color, making the evergreen in her eyes shine as her silky hair looked enthralling almost. The material hugged every curve flawlessly, because with her there were very few flaws, and it caused the deep-rooted grown up side of her to coruscate attractively.

Wait, what? For the record, I am not sexually attracted to her in any way.

Her cheeks flush a light pink when she notices I'm still behind her, causing me to stare into those green orbs of hers through the mirror. We hold eye contact for what seems like forever—until the tension is too unbearable, causing her gaze to drop to the ground.

Good. Just where I want her.

Shut up, you're a jerk.

I know.

"I'll be outside waiting for you," I say after a minute of awkward silence.

She quickly lifts her head up, and I think for a moment she is going to ask me to stay. But instead, she gives me an innocent smile. "Wait, can you unzip the dress first? I think I'm gonna get it."

"Sure," I say, reaching down to undo the dress.

"Did it look okay on me?" she asks nervously, pulling in her bottom lip between her teeth.

I nod, giving her a faint smile. "You looked great."

"Okay," she whispers. "Then I'll get it."

I mean, yeah, I would love to show up to a party with her as my date if she dressed like that in that dress. Let everybody know I'm not a dweeb with no love life—even though it's incredibly true. Every guy will be drooling over my so-called girlfriend, and I'll be happy knowing they can't do anything about it.

Author's Note:

Yes! A whole chapter through the eyes of our beloved Zachariah. A lot went down and tension is building up between everyone—may the slow burn, BuRn YoU aLiVe

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