Page 149 of Reckless Hearts
“Well, that’s the impact you’ve had on me.”
And suddenly, Seb’s playful mood disappears.
“You’ve had an impact on me too,” he says quietly.
Fuck.
I have no idea what has caused his mood change, but Seb stares out the car window, his jaw clenched like he’s fighting some internal battle.
Seb has been running hot and cold on me the whole time we’ve been in London. And it’s so unlike Seb that it sends dread through me.
I know he was angry with me last night, but his disappointment cut me deeper than anger ever could.
But when we get inside the apartment and I pull him to me, he kisses me back just as passionately as normal.
I’m addicted to how Seb looks at me when we’re having sex.
Like he really seesme. The real me, the Marcus Johnson that exists under all the other layers I wrap around myself and that Hollywood continues to dress me up in.
He knows the real me now, even the absolute worst parts, yet he still touches me with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.
But afterward, when he lies with his long, lean body stretched out beside me, one leg thrown carelessly over mine, I feel jittery, uneasy.
My stomach churns, creating a nauseating cocktail of anxiety and guilt. A cold sweat breaks out on my forehead, and I have to concentrate to keep my breathing even.
Fuck. I need something to take the edge off.
I detach myself from Seb, my hands shaking slightly as I pull a tiny plastic baggie from my wallet. I pour a small amount onto the back of my hand, form it into a thin line with my fingernail, and snort it quickly.
A warm numbness spreads through my body, my muscles relaxing as the edges of reality blur.
“What are you doing?” Seb asks, lazily opening his eyes.
I can’t lie to him, even though I know it will make him angry again.
“Ketamine.”
Seb recoils as if he’s been slapped, scrambling to sit up. His eyes widen in disbelief, darting between my face and the remnants of powder on the bedside table. “Fuck, Marcus, we’ve just had sex, and now you’re getting high?”
“It’s just to take the edge off.”
“The edge off what?” His voice is low.
The question hangs between us like smoke, heavy and suffocating.
“Reality. Sometimes, I need a break from being me.”
His lips press into a thin line, jaw clenching. “You need a break from being you even when we’re together?”
“Sometimes I need it even more when we’re together.” The words are honest, slipping from my mouth before I can catch them, like water through cupped hands.
He goes still. “Why do you need it more when we’re together?”
How do I answer that? Because when I’m with Seb, I feel both invincible and vulnerable. Because Seb sees me, really sees me, and it’s both intoxicating and terrifying. Because being with Seb makes me want to be better, and that scares the hell out of me.
“Because you make me want things I can’t have,” I say.
“What can’t you have, Marcus?”
