I wake up late the next day. With Cam shouting and Noah cursing the house down as he jogs up and down the stairs to find his work clothes.
I change into my own appropriate work-ear, half hidden behind the island while Cam stuffs toast into his mouth and calls his boss to apologise for being late.
I have to brush my hair in the car, which makes Noah scowl because I'm getting 'ginger hair all over his seats'.
He winks as he says it and I have to pretend that I'm not about to roll down the window and jump out onto the high street.
We drop Cam off first. It takes a further fifteen minutes of him speeding down a few country lanes and narrowly avoiding old people at crossings for us to reach my office building.
He pulls up in a 'No Parking' zone and puts his hazards on.
"Have a good day, Mackenzie." He smiles at me.
I can't stop the blooming blush as I get out of his car and gently close the door, rushing around the bonnet and half-jogging towards the glass door of the building.
He is already pulling away when I turn back to look at him.
I'm hoping that dropping me off didn't make him even more late for work, but the thought quickly disappears as I remember that I'm supposed to be in a rush too.
My heels click along the polished floor as I pass the front desk and walk towards the lift, pressing '6' and scrolling through my twitter feed while I wait.
The ding startles me when the doors open.
"I'm on the coffee run, Kenzie," Danny, my coworker - who is technically also my boss, but doesn't act like it - calls as he shoots out of the lift. "Vanilla latte?"
"Please," I reply, stepping in as he rushes through the front doors. I catch his thumbs up as the door begins sliding closed. I chuckle to myself as I focus my attention back on my twitter.
As I rise, I log out of my own twitter account and into the company one.
And so the work day begins.
When I get to my desk, Isobel is already sitting at my swivel chair, chewing her gum and picking at her blue nail polish. There is a pink streak dyed into the front of her hair that's new.
Her red lipstick is smudged beneath her bottom lip already.
"You're a hot mess." I tease.
"And you're wearing fluffy Santa socks with high heels," she responds, blowing a bubble with her gum as I look down and at my feet and cringe. "You're obviously ready for the Christmas push to start."
"I've had a long weekend." I groan.
She laughs and tips her head back, standing up from my chair as I reach around her to log onto my computer.
"I can't wait to hear all about it, after my double espresso." she says as she stomps back to her own desk in platform leather boots full of straps and buckles. Dropping down into her chair, she sticks her tongue out at me before turning to her workspace.
I crack my knuckles and face the emails from over the weekend.
Danny appears next to my desk almost half an hour later, balancing three other coffees in a holder as he places a latte on my desk.
"Meeting about the new campaign in half an hour," he informs.
"Oval room?" I ask whilst typing out a reply.
"Duh," he laughs and walks towards Isobel's desk.
As soon as she sips her espresso, her eyes meet mine, grinning at me. I reach under my desk, sliding off my heels and taking the fluffy socks off, balling them up and launching them across the room at her. She ducks and they go rolling under Millie's desk.
I guess it's lucky she's on maternity leave, because she would not appreciate it.
I open my desk drawer and pull out my tablet, shoving it under my arm and following Isobel into the oval room to prepare for the meeting.
She arranges a pile of colourful pens and stationary across the table and I lean back into a comfy chair and sign in to my tablet.
My coffee still has steam rising from the lid, so I blow on it gently, waiting for the conversation to start. Izzy usually checks one email when we come into the oval room together - to feel productive - and then proceeds to do nothing else whilst we gossip and giggle like naughty school children.
"Your weekend?" she asks, after only two minutes have passed.
She sets down her own tablet and I know that for the next fifteen minutes she'll likely get nothing done.
"Well, my ceiling finally fell in." I frown, disdain obvious in my tone.
"No!" she gasps. Her hands over her mouth, eyes blown wide.
"Yes," I laugh, answering another email from Danny, confirming the changes to a document we'd filled out for the previous project. "On Saturday morning."
"You're not still staying there, are you?" she asks, pure horror in her voice and on her face.
She takes a gulp of her espresso, finishing it off. It always amazes me that she doesn't burn her tongue.
"I've had to stay with Cam and his housemate . . . Noah," I hesitate to say his name, but she picks up on it straight away.
"Noah?" Her smile is sly. "I don't believe I've heard of him."
"Anyway," I drawl. "I miss my disgusting house and my broken bathroom already. I'm staying on their uncomfortable couch and have to masturbate in the shower . . . unsuccessfully."
She spits on me as the laugh leaves her mouth. I laugh with her and take the first scolding sip of my coffee.
"Because you've forgotten how to do it or because you're scared your brother will accidentally see your uglies?" she asks between giggles.
I roll my eyes at her.
Danny comes into the meeting room then, surprisingly early. I notice he has documents and posters shoved under his arm. He drops them onto the table and sighs, pushing all of the documents apart with outstretched arms.
"Fun," Izzy deadpans, leaning forward to glance at all the paperwork.
"We have a long meeting ahead ladies. I'll grab the other two - would you set up, Kenzie?" He asks as he's rearing the door.
I nod and start setting up the posters on the whiteboard. Izzy's eyes follow me, and I can feel her laughing at me behind my back.
"Do you think your brother would mind if we still hung out?" she asks, scrolling on her tablet.
"No," I say with a shrug. "I doubt he cares. Although, he has a game night on Tuesdays, so we'll have to pick another day."
Danny returns with Morgan and Liliana, our other colleagues, and we begin putting together a vague plan for the Christmas campaign.
====================================================================
I finished work a little earlier than expected, deciding to hang around the office chatting with my work friends about our plans for the next month and a half.
At a few minutes past five, just as I sign back into my own twitter and begin to mindlessly scroll, I receive a text message.
Unknown: I'm gonna get a parking fine if you don't
rush your little ass down here.
I grin at the text that is obviously from Noah, shouting my goodbyes to everyone as I head for the lift.
Usually, I linger around the office after hours, chatting and loitering until Isobel offers to give me a lift home. Work tends to be the only place where I socially interact with other human beings who aren't Izzy or my house mates, who I hardly see anyway. So, I consider it good for my mental health. Although, now that I live with Cam and Noah, I'm sure I'll no longer have that issue.
Noah is in the 'No Parking' zone again and it's pitch black outside now.
I pull the sleeves of my cardigan over my body and rush around the bonnet of his car. Gently opening the door and sliding into the leather seats.
It's heated. The air is blasting too, so I sink further into the seat and sigh.
It takes me a few seconds to realise he is looking at me. I turn to him dramatically, raising an eyebrow.
"Long day at the office?" His voice is deep and gruff. There is a swipe of oil across his cheek and my eyes drop to the dark blue overalls covering his body, all dirty and covered in grime. He's obviously come straight from work.
"A lot of meetings," I reply.
He pulls out of the space in front of my office building and we drive quietly towards the roundabout at the end of the road.
"How was your day?" I ask, half-closing my eyes again. The heat is still blowing against my face.
There's a short pause, and when he answers he sounds confused.
"It was good. I fixed cars." he deadpans.
I snort.
Obviously he had fixed cars.
"A man of many words," I joke. "Do you Cam would mind if one of my friends came over one day this week? Or . . . would you mind?"
He chuckles, deep and vibrating through the car. " I doubt he would mind. Neither would I."
We fall into a silence that I'm not sure is completely comfortable, because I keep fidgeting in the seat and he turns the music up a few paces louder.
When we get into the house, Cam is nowhere to be seen and Noah disappears into his room. So, I take it upon myself to raid the cupboards and scrounge whatever I can to make us all a meal.
Low and behold, when I open the fridge, it's filled with nothing but beer, protein yogurts and butter that has seen better days.
I huff and pull up directions to the nearest shop on google maps. A ten minute walk. Worth it for a meal that includes fresh ingredients.
Noah's hoodie is still slung over the back of the sofa from yesterday and I pull it over my head again gently, switching out my heels for trainers and pulling my hair into a bun on top of my head.
Maybe I shouldn't, I think briefly. Noah is sweet though. He wouldn't mind.
Cam might.
I gently shut the door behind myself and put one of my airpods in as I slink into the night. Maps tell me where and when to turn, so I sing along softly to the music flowing between the instructions.
The shop is at the far end of a long car park that isn't lit up.
I walk across quickly, and I'm in and out of the shop in no time, arms stacked with bags of shopping on each side.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, but with full hands, I wobble back through the gloomy car park and down the street towards the house.
My head sways to 'Lightning Crashes' by LIVE.
Cam's street comes into view, the walk home seems faster than the walk there, and I'm happy to fall through the door once more. I close it behind me and step into the living room.
Cam and Noah are sitting on the sofa, playing a video game.
"I texted you," Cam says without looking up. "Where were you?"
"You had no food in," I reply.
He pauses the game, both he and Noah turning to look at me in sync. I watch as Noah recognises the hoodie once more, but again says nothing about it.
Good. I enjoy the smell of it.
My brother either doesn't notice the hoodie or doesn't care. Win - win for me.
"What?" I ask, my eyebrow raised as I realise they are both staring.
Cam's eyes narrow. "You walked to the shop and back by yourself in the dark?" he questions, hand on hip.
"Oh Christ of my life, Cam," I groan. " I don't remember you ever being this protective."
He squints at me and then turns in a huff of anger, pressing play on the game. Noah looks me up and down, watching as I take my hair out of its bun.
I lift the bags of shopping, shrugging.
At least we have food now.
"Next time, ask me to drive you," he says gently.
I roll my eyes slightly, "i can't keep -"
"I like driving, Mackenzie." he states.
It's the first time he's cut me off, and for a moment, I'm a little shell-shocked at the interruption. He continues to stare me down.
His cheek bones are prominent. I want to run a finger along his jaw to the tip of his slightly pointed chin full of stubble. I won't, because my brother has apparently become a stereotypical overprotective dick, who has forgotten that i've been living by myself since i was eighteen.
"Alright, Jesus," I break. "You're my personal taxi, I get it."
He turns back towards the TV to continue playing the game with Cam.
I put the shopping away, pottering and working out where everything goes. I'm playing my music still, just out loud this time.
The boys don't seem to mind, so I sing along.
Stupid, alpha-male shitheads, not wanting me to walk on my own for twenty minutes at six in the evening; and yet here I am, about to cook for them.
I can't be too mad at them though, because Cam's letting me live here and Noah's driving me around everywhere - at least they're adapting to living with me rather quickly. More than adapting if I'm honest. They're incredibly accommodating.
I pull out the wok from the back of a cupboard. Full of dust.
I take it over to the sink and give it a scrub. Once the thick layer of fluff is washed away, I take it over to the hob and start to fry some chicken, chorizo, peppers and onions. I boil my noodles in a pan next to it.
I'm like a housewife, cooking for the family.
If Noah and I were married, this would be our house, and Cam would be visiting us for the evening. They would be in the living room, shouting at a game they're losing, and Cam's wife and I would be in here making them drinks and cooking up a sunday roast.
I'm delusional.
Apparently, I'm so incredibly relationship - starved that I've now begun putting together fake scenarios to appease my mind.
I need a boyfriend, I think, looking back at my stir fry.
Or at least someone to distract me while I'm living in this house.
====================================================================
Work drags the next day. We have meeting after meeting about the Christmas campaign, and have to start pulling our ideas together so we're ready to have the big-boy meetings with our higher ups at the end of the week.
We all grimly decide to pull a late one on Thursday in preparation for our Friday meetings.
We are all, definitely, going to regret that one.
Isobel sits at my desk towards the end of the working day, both of us manically typing away on our tablets and looking frazzled beyond belief.
"Ugh," she groans, pushing her tablet away from herself. "What are you doing tonight?" she asks, tapping her painted fingernails against the desk.
Her pink streak appears to have gotten slightly larger. If i didn't know her any better, i'd think she was trying to get away with dying her hair pink without HR giving her a bollocking.
Who am I kidding?
That's definitely what she's doing.
Today she's wearing an overcoat that looks as if she has dropped onto the Earth from some sort of 1970's detective show.
She pummeled Danny on the shoulder with a phone book when he called her 'Terminator' at our first meeting this morning.
Her eyeliner is winged out over a smoky eye and, upon thinking it over, she also looks like a hot extra that's been pulled out of a 'My Chemical Romance' music video.
"Cam's game night is tonight," I remind her. "Since my bedroom is the living room, I think I'll be in attendance."
"What, with his uni math buddies?" she asks, chewing on the end of her pencil, frowning at the pictures on her tablet.
"Uh, huh," I hum, scrolling through some of our analytics, impatiently waiting for the clock to hit five.
"Im thinking of wearing something cute, dressing up." I tell her mindlessly.
I see her perk up from the corner of my eye, grinning mischievously.
"Something cute, huh?" she asks, and i nod whilst continuing to scroll through the endless pages of data. "Are you trying to catch someone's eye?"
I put my tablet back onto my desk and lean into the swivel chair, pushing my hair out of my face and tucking strands behind my ears.
My shoulders sag.
"I think it's about time I did," I state.
Her mouth pops open. There's gum on her tongue that I didn't even realise she had been chewing.
"Is this Mackenzie Kennedy I'm speaking to?" she gasps, reaching forward and slowly poking an extended finger into my cheek. "Who are you?"
I swat her away and pretend to go back to my analytics.
"All I'm saying is that I'm going to dress cute. It's not like I can pull anyone there tonight. They're all Cam's mates and, apparently, he has this thing where me dating his mates makes him want to vomit." I mumble.
"When did he say that?" she asks.
"He mentioned some guy from high school who fancied me. They stopped being friends because of it." I groan, rummaging through my bag to find my phone.
"That's . . . odd." she states.
Don't I know it? I'd never given him the slightest idea that I'd be in any way interested in dating his friends.
Hell, I never even wanted them at the house.
We continue working through our papers next to each other until five on the dot, at which point I receive a text from Noah stating that he'll be a little later than usual because he only just left work.
"I've got about fifteen minutes to kill," I tell Isobel.
"You wanna look cute tonight, right?" she says digging around her bag, pulling out a small black pencil. "How about a bit of a sexy eyeliner look?"
"I don't think that's ver -"
"You're going to look hot." She continues to reassure me as she pulls my chair closer to hers. I settle between her legs, her minty breath fanning my face as she studies my eye shape.
I can tell she gets a bit carried away.
There's a lot of pulling and muttering comments about resting my face, and at one point she even licks her thumb and swipes it under my eye.
She claps when she's finished, like she's on a plane that has just landed.
"Okay," she mutters as she puts the pencil back in her bag. "When you get home, wear something cute. A dress - Ooh, you've got great legs! Are you going to shower?"
"I showered this morning." I tell her, wide eyed.
"Great!" she grins.
I nod at her enthusiasm.
"So your makeup around the eyeliner. Overfill your eyebrows slightly, and straighten your hair. Don't overdo the bronzer or the blush, alright?"
"That was one time." I sigh, cringing at the memory.
The last work party we threw, I didn't look so hot. The electricity along my road had cut out and I had gotten ready using my phone torch. Nobody has ever let me live it down.
Noah: I'm outside.
I show Isobel the text and she squeals, shoving all of her belongings into her bag. She begins rattling off more instructions in the lift, going through my outfits from memory as we both walk through the lobby.
Her waterfall of words halts when we step through the doors. I look up from the floor to see Noah parked in his usual non-parking spot, right outside the glass doors.
His window is down today and his grin is breathtaking as he smiles up at us both.
"I'll see you tomorrow, Izzy." I turn my head to her, knowing what her reaction will be.
"Girl," she coughs.
"I know," I crow, looking back to Noah, now scrolling on his phone as he waits for me.
I know she wants to say everything I've been thinking for the past few days. That this man is three-course meal worthy. That he could eat her off of a dinner plate and she'd thank him. She's probably already got something lined up about shagging him in his car.
"Don't dress cute," she whispers to me. "Dress killer. Call me when you're getting ready."
"It's a game night," I remind her.
Noah looks towards us then and we quickly turn to look at each other.
There's little room to deny it; it's obvious we were staring and talking about him.
"Are you ready?" he asks gently. His voice is soft but the husk of it still rattles me to my core. "I dont wanna rush you but im starting to think im not allowed to park here."
I smile at his joke. Isobel squeezes my arm before beginning to walk around the building and towards the company car park. Noah's eyes stay on me as I watch her round the corner. I still feel the heat of his gaze when I dip into the passenger seat.