Too Close for Comfort

Summer: Day 34

Summer: Day 34

Mack's POV:

I spent all of last night sulking. Crying. Thinking about what happened this summer.

I didn't just tell Zachariah I love him, I let him see through me completely. I gave him everything this summer: my first kiss, first quote-on-quote boyfriend, first everything. I gave myself to him. He took me places I've never let anyone take me before.

So that's why I found myself stuck in bed with a thousand used tissues lying around everywhere. Because just as I thought, nobody is who they say they are. They can tell you how perfect you are over and over again, but is it all a lie? How do you know what they say is true? You don't.

You don't know if they're only saying something to play with your feelings, tug at your heart. And when adding up everything Zachariah has said, done, shown, it all seems so genuine. Seems. It seems genuine. But that boy has toyed around with my heart like I was a puppet on a string for who knows how many years. I don't know what to do anymore.

And just because I love him doesn't mean I should.

But he understood me, who I was. He did. He does. I thought he did. I think he does.

I let out another sob and put my face in my hands. This was all so confusing. I want to marry him in the future, so why does this whole arranged thing make me doubt that? I guess it's because I want to love him, and I want him to want me under no obligation.

Why does everything have to be in the gray area?

He doesn't love me. I told him not to say it back if he didn't mean it, and so he didn't say it. So why, why did I give myself to him? Because just as my father said, I keep hoping people will love me the way that I love them. And Zachariah will never love me the way I love him, the way I want him to.

That very thought has me crying all over again. I went to sleep crying, woke up crying; crying will be my new pass-time. I sound like an overdramatic drama queen—that thought alone makes me want to cry even more.

******

Zach's POV:

As soon as the twentieth phone call to Mackenzie doesn't go through, I drive straight towards her house. Her phone is off, she isn't texting me back, she isn't picking up my phone calls. What the hell is going on?

Someone better not have touched, spoken to, or ruined my fucking Mackenzie.

I knock on her door, ring the doorbell, and mess with the lock for a couple minutes before I realize she's not going to open the door. Sighing and frustrated, I run back to my car and pull out the spare key the landlord gave me when we signed the agreement papers.

The things I do for this girl. I love her.

So why didn't I say it when she told me she loves me? Goddammit, I don't know. I resorted back to what I knew best; bottling up those feelings for her despite wanting to tell her how I felt, how much I loved her. I did the same thing back then, and though I knew for sure I was in love with her now, I couldn't say those three words when it came down to it.

Coward. I'm such a coward.

No one's ever loved me, not like that. My mom loves me because I'm her son, my coaches love me because I help them win, and the girls at school love me because of my good looks.

So where does Mackenzie differ from everyone else? She's the one. Regardless of my dad trying to set me up, which is never going to happen, Mackenzie Lemay is mine. She's stolen my heart forever. We're gonna plan our future around each other's lives; she loves me, and I love her.