Too Close for Comfort

Summer: Day 28

"And now, am I too close again?" I ask, moving my hand underneath his shirt to place it on top of his bare chest, where his heart is.

He gulps and shakes his head. "Never. I learned something about us, and it made me realize that..." His sentence trails off into a blank whisper.

"What?" I press.

"That I think I pushed you away secretly hoping you'd pull me closer."

I give him a goofy smile, dropping my head. "Once in a lifetime," I say, playing with my hands. "You only ever feel this once in a lifetime."

"But you make me feel it over and over again," he admits, tilting my chin to him.

And this feeling that we're mutually talking about, I finally realize what it is.

Love. Something we yet to verbally admit to each other.

"I'm not perfect," he states, a plead in his voice. "And I know I'll never be. But you make me feel alright with who I am, and even though I promised myself four years ago that I wouldn't feel this, I can't help it anymore. You're a freaking miracle, Mackenzie. And I'm damn lucky I even met you."

"Stop talking before I cry," I warn him, distracting myself by taking a sip of coffee.

"But I'll be here when you cry, and laugh, and yell, and lie, and say things you don't mean," he promises. "I want all that with you, Mackenzie. I want it all."

"I'm serious," I say, my eyes getting glossy. "I really am gonna cry."

That doesn't stop him. "The good and the bad, baby. I'm promising it now so you know I'll stay this time. We might fight, hell we might fight a lot considering all the drama we've already put ourselves in, but we'll get through it. I have faith in us."

I pull my lower lip in between my teeth with a sad smile. "I don't want the summer to be over."

"Just because the summer ends doesn't mean we have to." Zachariah takes a sip of his own coffee to think. "We have sixteen days, let's make the most of it."

I pout. "Why so soon?"

"I have football training camp to attend, to get ready for the season," he explains.

"I don't even wanna think about you leaving right now," I refuse, shaking my head. "I'm gonna cry like a baby again."

"You cried last time I went away?"

"Yeah," I laugh, blowing a few loose strands of my brown hair out of my face. "It wasn't a pretty sight and Kylar thought I was being overdramatic, etcetera etcetera."

"That's cute," he mutters, cutting into his pancakes.

I do the same and drown them in maple syrup. When I take a bite, I let out a moan of satisfaction and my eyes go wide. "Oh my gosh, these are amazing! What did you put in them?"

"Drugs," he says suggestively, shrugging his shoulders.

I hit him in the chest. "No, like, these are so good."

"Made with love," he murmurs, popping a fork-full into his mouth.

"Or it was just a lucky chance that you happened to make better pancakes than me," I argue, not wanting to hear that word. Love.

He can't love me, not like how I love him.

Can he?

Freaking hell I don't know.

******

Zach's POV:

Mackenzie and I are tangled in fuzzy blankets on the couch watching one of her silly romcom movies when my phone starts to ring. I pull it out and groan, telling her to pause the movie.