Page 61 of Reckless Hearts
“We’ve booked out the restaurant for dinner, so you guys should freshen up. We’ll aim to meet at the bar for pre-dinner drinks around six,” Saskia says.
“Freshen up? You mean I can’t keep this ‘just survived a long-haul flight’ look? And here I thought I was starting a trend,” Dad says with a grin while Saskia rolls her eyes yet again.
I’m grateful to retreat to my villa.
It’s a haven of luxury, all polished wood and crisp white linens. The floor-to-ceiling window frames the ocean view like a living postcard.
After a quick shower, I forgo my usual science pun T-shirt and instead spend an embarrassing amount of time choosing between two nearly identical blue shirts. I pair the winner with my best chinos and then dither about wearing my contact lenses rather than my glasses. Marcus has never seen me with glasses because my diagnosis of a slight astigmatism didn’t come until my second year of university. My ex-boyfriend dug my look with glasses, but who knows what Marcus thinks?
In the end, I decide to go with the glasses.
I give myself one last once-over in the mirror, running a hand through my hair in a futile attempt to tame it.
Marcus used to laugh about how the one tuft of hair at the back always stuck up no matter what…and now I’m back to thinking about Marcus.
It’s like he’s become my brain’s default screensaver, popping up whenever my thoughts are left idling for more than two-point-five seconds.
My heart rate increases with every step as I walk to the bar.
Now that the sun is setting, the party has migrated from the deck into the bar.
I spot Marcus immediately. He’s standing near the door, looking effortlessly perfect in a lightweight linen shirt. It’s like he’s been airbrushed into reality. He stands out even in this crowd of beautiful people.
I head to the bar on shaky legs and order one of their local beers.
I sip my beer, suddenly fascinated by the label’s intricate design. Anything to avoid making accidental eye contact with Marcus.
“Seb!” Saskia calls out.
I turn around.
Saskia’s dressed in a flowy sundress, her golden hair catching the light. She’s standing next to Marcus, and she waves me over to them.
My feet suddenly feel too big for my body, and I’m acutely conscious of my arms. Have they always swung this awkwardly when I walk?
It’s like I’m in a nature documentary:Watch as the awkward biologist attempts to integrate with the glamorous species.
When I reach them, Saskia slings an affectionate arm around me.
“You remember my brother Seb, right?” she says to Marcus.
I meet Marcus’s gray eyes. His expression gives nothing away.
“Sure. Of course I remember Seb.” Marcus’s voice hasn’t changed. His voice is warm honey, smooth and inviting.
What does he remember about me? Does he remember the way he used to kiss down my neck, the way his fingers used to trace patterns on my skin, how perfectly we fit together when he fucked me?
I resist the urge to ask him those questions.
It now feels like a dream. Something that happened to someone else.
A few months of hooking up with a gorgeous, charming guy.
But they remain the most impactful few months of my life.
Would I ever be able to explain to Marcus how he taught me to chase after what I wanted?
Before we started hooking up, I was such an innocent eighteen-year-old, a kid who’d spent my childhood playing second fiddle to my older sister, someone who let life happen to him. I’d never chased hard after anything.
