Saving His Smile

chapter: vi

Much to Grace's discomfort, when she woke the next morning, there was a rather large stone settled in the pit of her stomach. It hadn't been there immediately, but had formed very suddenly when she remembered that she had plans with Zachary that day.

Ridiculous questions whirled through her mind at lighting-fast speeds. What were they going to do? What time? And for heavens sake, what on earth was she going to wear?

The last question afforded her much more displeasure than her previous ones. She really shouldn't care what she looked like in front of Zach, and yet she did.

She threw all questions to the wind and rolled out of bed, comforting herself with the thought that she merely recognized that Zachary was a physically appealing male member of her species and thus her natural instinct was to appear appealing herself. She, in no way, shape, or form, was actually attracted to Zach, just the archetype that he represented.

When she emerged from the shower, one towel wrapped tightly around her body, and the other loose on her head, she immediately went to her closet and threw the doors open. It had begun to grow colder now that they were approaching mid-September, but not cold enough to merit a full-on sweater. Grace wanted to feel girly that day--and it had absolutely nothing to do with Zachary...she thought--and pulled out a burgundy long-sleeved dress and plain black tights.

She pulled her outfit on quickly before heading back into the bathroom to brush her teeth and hair and apply her makeup. For some bizarre reason her hand was shaking as she tried to tightline her eyes and she ended up poking herself in the eye.

"Ugh," she grunted, dropping the eye-pencil into the sink with a clatter. It took all she had not to rub at her eye.

When she finished getting ready, she hurried to the kitchen, her still-wet hair swinging and whipping water droplets all around, to grab some breakfast.

"Morning, sweetheart," her dad greeted as she flew into the kitchen, using one hand to grip the doorframe and fling herself towards the refrigerator. "You look happy this morning."

"Do I?" Grace began rummaging around in the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of eggs and the gallon jug of milk.

Neither of them said more on the subject and Grace quietly went about making herself some scrambled eggs. She had never really had a liking for eggs, but some mornings she craved them. As she whisked the whites and yolks together in a bowl, she started to wonder what Zachary was doing in that house across the street. Had he woken up yet? Did he think about what he was going to wear today as well?

She caught herself doing this, however, and sloshed the liquid eggs into a hot pan almost angrily. As the yellow mass sizzled she pushed it around the pan with her eyebrows knitted together.

Spending excessive amounts of time with Zachary was definitely having effects on her thinking. He pervaded her thoughts, especially on days that she didn't see him, and that irritated her. What was her brain doing?!

She piled her cooked eggs onto a plate, grabbed her glass of milk, then sat at the small kitchen across from her father and began to moodily eat her eggs.

Zachary Duncan woke with the closest thing he had experienced to a smile since the day he had left for Florida. One corner of his mouth was being pushed upwards... and then the other--not of their own accord, though.

Dazed, he opened his eyes to see Matthew not two inches away from his face, poking his chubby fingers into his cheeks. Zach shot upright quickly--perhaps a bit too quickly, the room began to spin around him--and frowned.

"What are you doing, Matty?" he asked, leaning back against his headboard.

"Mom said to wake you up," his little brother said with a grin that showed off his tiny baby teeth.

Zach groaned and fell back against his pillows with enough force to force air poofing out around him. "What does she need?"

Tiny shoulders moved up and down as Matty shrugged. "I don't know."

"Helpful, there, little bro," Zach sighed, running long fingers through blond hair that was in dire need of a trim. A few pieces fell into his eyes and he shook his head quickly, flicking the mop of hair out of his way.

"I know I am!" Beaming with enough brilliancy to challenge the sun, Matthew scampered out of his older brother's room.

Throwing back his covers, Zachary shifted so that his feet were dangling over the side of his bed. He kept his legs slightly flexed, though, so that he could put off the sensation of the cold wood floor for just a little while longer.

His room was messy and he ultimately ended up landing his feet on a pair of jeans tossed carelessly to the floor.

Those don't look too bad. He pulled them off of the floor and brought them into the bathroom with him along with a random t-shirt he had pulled out of a half-opened drawer on the way.

He turned the tap to hot and headed downstairs, rubbing what sleep he could from his eyes.

"You called, mom?" he mumbled, walking into the living room.

"Zachary Duncan," his mother began, sounding like she was trying to hold back a gargantuan amount of irritation. "You can't just invite a guest over and then leave them waiting for you for ten minutes."

Zach's eyes snapped open with shock. "What?"

A small figure emerged from a seat across from his mom. "Hey," said Grace timidly. She looked at Zachary only briefly before turning away as quickly as possible.

Zach's face flamed and he was suddenly hyper aware that he had come down dressed as he slept--in nothing but basketball shorts.

"I'm, uh, I'm just going to..." without finishing his sentence he scrambled upstairs to dress.

All he could think to himself was she actually showed up.

Alone, there in his room as he pulled a tshirt over his head, Zachary Duncan smiled.