Coming Home
~Zane’s POV~
As I stepped off the plane, I immediately spotted Bentley waiting for me. He was my ride, having already been back home for a couple of weeks. He hadn’t changed a bit since the last time I saw him. We left the airport and headed straight to his house, where I’d be staying for the summer. My parents are high-level executives in a large company and spend most of their time overseas, so Bentley’s family has always been my second home.
When we pulled up to the Martens’, the air smelled like grilled steak and corn. I loved spending summers here. Between the home-cooked meals and the pool, we basically lived in their backyard. As I walked through the front door, Bentley’s mother greeted me warmly. I set my bags down, gave her a hug, and thanked her for letting me stay. After a quick catch-up, I hauled my luggage to the spare room and headed out back.
That’s when I saw Daisy. But Daisy wasn’t a nerdy little girl anymore.
Her bright blonde hair was down, her skin was covered in intricate tattoos, and she’d clearly ditched the glasses during college. I sat down beside her just as she climbed out of the pool, the water glistening on the floral ink that wrapped around her limbs. I asked how she was, but she just clipped out a “Fine” and walked away. I couldn’t blame her; I’d been mean to her for years, and I didn’t exactly have the right to her kindness. But as we sat down for dinner and the light caught the green in her eyes, I realized I was seeing her for the first time. She had grown into her features beautifully.
~Daisy’s POV~
I got home a couple of weeks ago. Let’s just say my parents weren’t exactly thrilled to see their “little girl” covered in tattoos. I’d also swapped my glasses for contacts during my first semester so I didn’t have to worry about losing them anymore—when I was a kid, I’d spend hours searching for my frames only to find them sitting right in front of my face.
I’m currently in college for herbology, and I work as a tattoo artist on the side. That’s the reason for the ink; I love the beauty of plants, and my tattoos are a tribute to that passion.
I had completely forgotten that my mom invited Zane to stay for the summer. When he walked into the backyard, I was caught off guard. I expected the boy I knew, but a grown man stood there instead. I hadn’t seen him since I left for a college four states away, and he looked… well, like a god, if I’m being honest. But I still hated him. He made my middle and high school years a living torture.
The constant bullying had done a number on my mental health. It took me until my second semester of college to finally break free from my insecurities. I finally feel good about myself, and I’m not letting Zane change that. When he sat next to me and asked how I’d been, I gave him a short answer and walked away.
At dinner, I tried my best to avoid eye contact, but I kept stealing glances. He had aged like fine wine. When he left for school, he was just a good-looking kid; now, he was mature, masculine, and radiating a confidence that made my mouth water.
~Zane’s POV~
As we finished dinner, the house was full of laughter. I asked Mrs. Marten if she needed help cleaning up, but she told me Daisy was already on it. I headed to the kitchen and asked Daisy if she wanted a hand. Surprisingly, she said sure.
As we worked, she hummed along to the music playing outside, swaying slightly as she dried the plates. I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked stunning. In that moment, I realized I had two choices: I was either going to marry this girl, or I was going to do what I always do—watch the opportunity run away. Not this summer. I’m going to make her mine.
~Daisy’s POV~
I tried very hard to ignore the way Zane was staring at me, like I was something he wanted to eat. I finished the dishes and started wiping down the countertops. The silence broke when he asked if I was single.
I wanted to lie. I wanted to tell him I had a boyfriend just so he’d leave me alone, but my body betrayed me. “No,” I muttered. “I’m single.”
He flashed a smile that made my stomach do four million flips. I narrowed my eyes and asked why it even mattered. He leaned in, whispering in my ear that he was going to make me his. My stomach did another somersault.
You can try, Zane, I thought as he walked away. But don’t think it’ll be easy. I’m a lot tougher than the girl you used to know.
~Zane’s POV~
I didn’t stay to watch her reaction. I knew if I did, I’d either apologize for being too forward or say something even more reckless. Instead, I walked out to the porch, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The “old me” would have made a joke at her expense to hide how I felt. But looking at Daisy now—the tattoos, the sharp intelligence in her eyes, the way she didn’t shrink away from me—I realized the old tactics wouldn’t work. She wasn’t the easy target she used to be. She was a challenge.
Bentley was sitting on the porch swing, kicking a beer bottle back. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he chuckled.
“Not a ghost,” I muttered, leaning against the railing. “Just... realizing I have a lot of work to do this summer.”
~Daisy’s POV~
I stood frozen, the damp dish towel still in my hand. The spot on my ear where his breath had hitched felt like it was on fire.
He’s going to make me his?
The audacity. The sheer, unadulterated nerve of Zane Marten to bully me for years, disappear, and then waltz back into my kitchen acting like he owned the place. Part of me wanted to scream. But another part—a traitorous, annoying part of my brain—couldn’t stop replaying the vibration of his voice.
I finished the counters with more force than necessary, practically scrubbing the laminate off. I needed to set boundaries. This wasn’t middle school, and I wasn’t his victim anymore. If he wanted to play games, he was going to find out that I’d learned how to win.
I walked toward the back door, intending to go to my room, but I stopped when I saw him through the screen. He was silhouetted against the moonlight, looking less like a bully and more like a man lost in thought.
“Daisy?” my mom called from the living room. “Did you and Zane finish up?”
“Yeah, Mom,” I called back, my eyes never leaving Zane’s shadow. “We’re finished.”
For now, I thought.
