Page 27 of Reckless Hearts
Fuck.
“Sweet,” I say a beat or two too late, and Saskia glances over at me.
“A condition of him coming with us is he has to be our sober driver on Saturday night. It will save us a fortune instead of Ubering from town.”
“Oh, right. Yeah, that’s good. I’m all about whatever saves me cash.” Shit, I’m really not doing a good job maintaining my usual cool here.
Why am I freaking out? Okay, I’ve hooked up with the guy twice now, but Seb’s a smart guy. He’ll know there’s no way we’re hooking up again right under Saskia’s nose.
But even as we pick up Neets and John, I remain on edge.
When we pull up outside Saskia’s parents’ house and I see Seb dressed in a navy-blue puffer jacket, jeans, and sneakers, that tuft of his curly hair sticking up in the back, and an eager smile on his face, I realize why I’m feeling unsettled.
I feel weirdly…protective of Seb, in a way I’ve never felt for any of my other hookups.
Seb lacks the layer of cool everyone else naturally has. It’s understandable why I feel some level of protectiveness for him. The world isn’t kind to people who wear their hearts so close to the surface.
I know that only too well.
Seb throws his duffel in the boot and climbs into the back seat.
“Hey.” His voice squeaks. He clears his throat and tries again. “Hey.”
Neets and John greet Seb normally.
“How’s it going, Little Kleggs?” I manage to make my voice smooth.
“Good. It’s going good,” Seb says. I flick a glance back at him. His cheeks are tinged with color.
“Right, let’s hit the road,” Saskia says. “Mountains and snow, here we come.”
I cue the first song on my road trip playlist, and “Born to be Wild” blasts through the car.
It’sa three-hour drive to Queenstown, and Seb’s quiet the whole way. I suppose it’s natural when he’s surrounded by Saskia’s friends, all of us two to three years older and far more outgoing than him. We slide into our usual game, telling funny stories with a sarcastic tone, talking over each other, competing for who can be the most amusing, the most charming, the most entertaining.
Just who can be themost.
Maybe because Seb is super-secure as Saskia’s only sibling, he doesn’t feel the need to compete for the spotlight.
The rest of us don’t have that luxury.
When I look back at him, he’s pulled out a battered copy ofThe Alchemistand has lost himself in the pages. His face lights up at something he’s reading, and he seems oblivious to the swirling conversation about the latest law school drama.
“All right, place your bets. Who’s going to score the summer internship at Chapman Tripp?” Saskia asks.
“My money’s on Emily. She’s practically married to the library,” I say.
“Nah, I reckon it’ll be Zack. His mum’s on the board of half the companies in the NZX 50,” Saskia says.
“What about me?” John pretends to be affronted.
“I’m not sure if the ability to recite the entire Crimes Act after three Heinekens is what the partners are looking for,” I say.
“My money is actually on you, Marcus. All you’ll have to do is bat those long eyelashes, and you’ll get whatever you want,” Neets says.
“I’m not applying for any internships,” I say.
“Marcus and I are going on a road trip across America this summer,” Saskia reminds them. “Well, it’s a winter road trip because it’s the Northern Hemisphere, but you know what I mean.”
