Page 42 of Reckless Hearts
I can’t imagine a scenario where one of my parents’ friends would have had a chance to seduce Saskia or me.
He’s right. It does feel like we come from different worlds.
But right now, I’m most concerned with trying to live in a world where we get to do that again.
“Like…I don’t have much experience, and I want to get more. And I’d prefer to learn with you than with anyone else.” I cough awkwardly. “If you’re up for that.”
Marcus stares at me, those deep, beautiful eyes searching my face as if looking for answers to questions I don’t even know. I feel exposed, vulnerable, but I force myself to meet his eyes.
“Anything we do has to be on the complete down-low,” he says finally.
The relief shooting through me would have collapsed my legs if I wasn’t already lying down. “Of course.”
Personally, I want to tell the world I’m hooking up with Marcus Johnson. I’d take out a full-page ad in theOtago Daily Times. I’d get a tattoo listing every date and time we’ve hooked up—along with the activities we engaged in because I wouldn’t mind those permanently embedded in my skin.
But I understand it’s not the same for Marcus, that hooking up with me isn’t exactly reputation enhancing.
And there’s the whole Saskia factor. I’ve been Saskia’s brother for eighteen years now, and there’s one fact about my sister I learned very quickly and had reinforced many times over the years.
Saskia does not like to share her toys.
She’d definitely lose the plot if she found out about Marcus and me.
And I know my sister well enough to know how clever she is, that she’d disguise her anger by pretending concern and would guilt Marcus into believing that unless he was planning to give me a promise ring, he shouldn’t hook up with me. She’dmanipulate the situation to make it look like she was being a good big sister while ensuring Marcus never touched me again.
I’m not going to let that happen.
“We don’t have to tell anyone,” I add.
10
Marcus
I’m in the law library studying for my tort exam when my phone beeps with a message.
Hey, are you up to anything tonight?
I can’t help smiling. Seb is the only person I know who sends grammatically correct texts.
Was planning on washing my hair. Why? U offering me a better alternative?
It takes a few minutes of dots appearing and disappearing before Seb’s next message comes through.
I was going to offer to pay some attention to one of your heads, but I can’t promise it’ll be clean.
I can’t help laughing out loud at that. The guy studying at the next table turns to glare at me.
Oops. I guess the history of tort reform in New Zealand between 1963 and 2002 isn’t usually the most laugh-inducing topic.
But I love seeing these little flashes of Seb’s humor buried under his science-nerd persona.
Since returning from Queenstown, Seb and I have fallen into a regular routine of hooking up.
It’s a casual, friends-with-benefits thing. That’s all it is.
I try to make sure the only times I message him are to arrange hooking up. But often, like now, I can’t help extending our conversations.
Look at you mastering the art of innuendo
