Page 142 of Reckless Hearts
So far in my career, I’ve won thePeopleSexiest Man Alive award. I’ve won the Teen Choice Award for Best Kiss, MTV’s Best Shirtless Scene, and Buzzfeed’s Top 10 Celebrity Abs of the Year.
But I’ve never won any awards for my actual job, which is acting.
This is my best chance.
As the ceremony progresses, I catch glimpses of myself on the giant screens flanking the stage. I look the perfect image of a Hollywood star, poised and confident.
But inside, my stomach is a churning mess, my palms so sweaty I’m afraid I’ll leave damp handprints on my designer suit.
When they announce my category, Jake squeezes my arm, his grip almost painful. I lean forward, heart pounding. This is it.
“And the Critics’ Choice Award for Best Actor goes to…” There’s a pause that feels like an eternity. “Eli Hawthorne forThe Silent Hour!”
The applause hits me like a physical blow. I force my face into a mask of gracious defeat.
As Eli walks to the stage, each step he takes feels like a personal rejection, a reminder of my inadequacy.
There’s a voice in my head, eerily sounding like my father.
You’re not good enough. You’ll never be good enough to make up for what you did.
I manageto get through the rest of the ceremony and the after-party by keeping the same brittle smile on my face and popping a Xanax discreetly in the restroom, washing it down with champagne.
All I want is Seb.
But when I finally get home and he answers my video call, his face is drawn, a deep furrow between his brows. He’s biting his lower lip, a habit he only indulges in when he’s truly upset about something.
“What’s wrong?” I immediately ask.
“We lost one of our birds today. A stoat killed it.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
“It was one of our best breeding pairs too,” Seb says. He rubs at his temples, no sign of his usual enthusiasm. “Sometimes, it feels like we take one step forward, two back in this fight. That the odds are stacked so high against us.”
My stomach lurches. Because it almost feels like he could be describing our relationship.
“It was just a crappy day all round,” he continues. “I found out tonight that the couple in my soccer team broke up. You know, Tim and Jamie, the ones I told you about?”
“Why did they break up?”
“Jamie’s going to move to London to do some traveling, and they decided not to do the long-distance thing. They thought it would be too hard,” Seb says in a flat voice.
“Long distance can be hard,” I offer weakly.
Hard is actually not the word to describe it. There is no word that accurately covers what it feels like to wake up after dreaming of Seb, reaching for my phone to see another science pun that would normally make me groan but now just makes my chest ache.
But the thought of stepping away from this life is impossible.
If I based myself in New Zealand, I’d lose so many roles. Hollywood moves fast. If I’m not here, constantly visible, constantly available, I’ll be forgotten in a heartbeat. There are a hundred other actors ready to take my place.
And who am I without my career?
Nobody.
“Yeah, I’m finding long distance hard at the moment.” Seb blows out a breath, raking his hands through his hair. “It’s much harder since you spent so much time here. Because now I know exactly what I’m missing.”
