Page 98 of Reckless Hearts
“I just got a message from my boyfriend,” I reply. I still feel almost lightheaded at the concept I can call Marcus Johnson my boyfriend.
Dot’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, I didn’t realize you have a boyfriend. What’s his name?”
“Uh…I’d actually prefer not to share that. We’re kind of on the down-low.”
I don’t feel comfortable sharing his name because he’s my sister’s best friend. And I’m ultra-paranoid that because New Zealand is so small, if I say his name, it will get back to her that I’m dating someone called Marcus. She’ll realize I’min a relationship with her best friend and a tornado hitting a feather pillow factory will have nothing on her reaction.
Dot’s eyebrows fly up. “Is he in the wardrobe?”
“The wardrobe?” It takes me a second to realize what she’s referring to. “Oh, you mean the closet. No, he’s not in the closet. We’re just on the down-low at the moment for various reasons,” I say.
After Iceland, when we made it official, Marcus suggested we tell Saskia and my parents about our relationship, but I instantly recoiled from the idea.
I don’t know why the idea of Saskia knowing makes me so uneasy.
I love my big sister, but I guess I don’t trust she’ll react in a way that puts my interests first.
And my relationship with Marcus, even after a year, still feels…fragile.
We never talk about the future. We never talk about where our relationship is headed.
I told him I don’t need promises. And I don’t. It’s enough to have what we have now, to have the privilege of being the one to touch Marcus, to be the one he talks to every day.
Saskia wading in with her big-sister routine is the last thing I need.
I hate making Marcus lie by omission. There have been times when I’ve been with him and Saskia has called, and he’s had to tell white lies to hide my presence. And I know that makes him feel shit. It makes me feel shit too.
But at the moment, that option definitely feels like the lesser of two evils.
“Well, I hope you can eventually tell us all about him,” Dot says kindly. Oh god, the sympathetic look she’s giving me makes me realize she thinks I’m making this up, that my boyfriend is imaginary.
“I hope so too,” I say.
Christmas Day underscoresthe difficulty of being apart from Marcus. Because of the time zone differences, when I wake up on Christmas morning, it’s only partway through Christmas Eve for him.
Nevertheless, Marcus enthusiastically participates in Christmas morning phone sex.
Playing with Marcus over video call is one of my favorite pastimes, yet today, it leaves me feeling slightly empty.
Seeing him sprawled across his bed, chest heaving, his perfect features softened by post-orgasmic bliss, gives me an overwhelming craving to be with him.
“Wish I could touch you right now,” I say.
Shit. I don’t normally say this kind of thing to Marcus. Why remind him of the logistic challenges our relationship faces? Why dwell on the things you can’t change?
“Hopefully, I’ll manage to come home next Christmas,” he replies.
“Yeah.” I glance at the clock. “Bugger. I’ve got to get going, or I’ll be late.”
“You going to your parents’ place?”
I’m already scrambling to get out of bed. “Yes.”
With Saskia and I living in Auckland, my parents made the decision to relocate from Dunedin six months ago. Now, it feels like every conversation I have with my mother, she’s moaning about the traffic or humidity.
“What are you planning for tomorrow?” I ask.
“Jake is having a party at his house, so I’m going to go to that.”
