10. Marcus

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

I’ve been practicing. You want to give me a practical exam later?

I love a dedicated student. My place at 8?

Sounds great.

Hoping it will feel great too

I’m pretty sure it’s going to feel spectacular.

Spectacular. It’s such a Seb word. I can’t imagine any other eighteen-year-old texting that word to the guy he’s hooking up with.

But I can’t deny Seb is right. The sex between us continues to blow my mind. I don’t quite understand the source of the chemistry between Seb and me. Why is everything with him so much hotter than it is with other guys?

I should get back to studying, but instead, I find myself picking up my phone to message him again.

How’s your study going?

I’m studying for my animal behavior paper. Did you know dolphins have names for each other?

Aren’t they all just called Flipper?

Lol.

And crows hold grudges and can remember human faces for years.

Note to self: always be nice to crows

Seb continues to tell me fun facts about animal behaviors, so I learn all about how squirrels fake-bury their nuts to fool potential thieves and how humpback whales have been observed protecting other species from orca attacks.

It’s not until he’s telling me about how male nursery web spiders offer gifts to potential mates to avoid being eaten—which produces the next round of dodgy innuendos between us about how being eaten wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, depending on what body parts are consumed first—that I suddenly realize I’ve been messaging Seb for half an hour.

This still counts as logistics to arrange getting together, right? I mean, that’s where the conversation started. I think my argument would stand up in court.

However, as I gather my books and study notes, I can’t help wondering if the only person I’m fooling is myself.

My pulse speeds up when I hear the knock on my door. I have to force myself to slow down as I walk to open the door.

Seb stands on my doorstep, hands shoved in his pockets. His hair is slightly mussed, like he’s been running his fingers through it. Because it’s one of those random warm Dunedin days often scattered through October, offering hints at a summer that never quite eventuates, he’s dressed in jeans and a T-shirt that proclaims, Never trust an atom. They make up everything.

He gives me that shy smile of his. “Hey.”

“Hey, you.” I step back to let him inside my flat.

Then, as soon as the door is firmly shut behind him, we’re kissing.

Something about kissing Seb revs my engine more than kissing any other guy has.

Is it the forbidden nature?

Marcus likes to live on the edge. Marcus likes to self-destruct. Marcus likes to play with fire around the one friendship that matters to him.

But I’m aware there’s something more going on underneath it than that.

It’s the thing that makes me linger in bed with Seb even after we’ve both come, the thing that makes me talk to him differently than I’ve talked with other guys I’ve gotten off with.

Maybe it’s because of my friendship with his sister? He knows me outside of getting off together, which makes it easier to talk to him.

Which is why tonight, after the kissing leads us stumbling into my pokey bedroom where I get to catalog every one of Seb’s moans and shudders, I find myself tucking him into me, his head on my chest, as I trace circles on his skin.

Seb’s curls are like a halo around his face as he looks up at me.

His smile is hesitant. “So, I got that summer internship I told you about.”

“Hey, that’s great. Congratulations.”

It’s his proper smile now, the one with dimples, and I find myself mirroring his expression.

Being with Seb, making Seb happy, makes me feel like I’m a good guy. That I can be the hero of the movie instead of the villain.

And I seldom feel like that in my life, which must be why I find it so…intoxicating.

“What are you going to be doing?” I ask.

“It’s a project monitoring the growth rates and fledging success of albatross chicks.”

“I’ve never seen an albatross,” I admit.

Seb’s forehead furrows. “You’ve never been down the peninsula to the albatross colony?”

“No. Going to Larnach Castle for Saskia’s party was my first time on the peninsula.”

He looks at me like I’ve just admitted I believe Santa Claus is real and is in an explicit relationship with the Tooth Fairy.

“We need to rectify that. Immediately. What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Studying.”

“Can you take a break for a few hours so we can go down the peninsula?”

I hesitate.

Seb and I’ve never intentionally hung out just the two of us without sex being on the table.

But I can’t shoot him down. Not when he’s clearly so excited and passionate about the prospect of showing me the albatross colony.

Besides, nearly everyone I know is busy studying for exams. What are the chances of running into someone who will recognize Seb and me and report back to Saskia?

Low.

And I’m willing to take that chance if it makes this man happy.

“Okay, let’s do that,” I say.

And we’re kissing because, for some reason, I can’t resist kissing Seb, especially when he’s smiling that shy, happy smile.

But kissing Seb leads to another round of sex.

And after our heartbeats slow, I realize Seb’s breathing has evened out.

When I glance at him, his eyelids have closed.

I never let guys stay the night. It’s the one and only thing I’m consistent about in the bedroom. My trademark Marcus hookup rule.

But tonight, I can’t bring myself to wake Seb and ask him to leave.

Instead, I watch him sleep, watch how his eyelashes fan out on his face, the way his nose twitches slightly as he dreams.

I find myself fighting sleep because, for some reason, watching Seb sleep beside me stirs a feeling unfamiliar to me.

Peace.

The next day, Seb and I head off down the Otago peninsula. The peninsula is right next to Dunedin, but it has an untamed, wild beauty, all rugged cliffs and rolling hills embracing the sea.

When we reach Taiaora Head, the headland of the peninsula where the albatross colony is located, the visitor carpark is half-full. Up to the right, half a dozen people are clustered on a wooden walkway.

“What’s up there?” I ask.

“That’s just the lookout that overlooks a seal colony. But it’s quite a steep cliff. I don’t think you’d like it very much.”

The fact Seb has remembered my dislike of heights causes a warm glow in my chest.

“Oh, right,” I say.

“The seals aren’t that interesting, anyway. For my animal behavior paper we came down here to do a behavioral ethogram on the seals, where we each got assigned a seal and had to record what it was doing every thirty seconds,” Seb says.

“That definitely sounds more interesting than what I do in class,” I say.

“Not when the one I was watching slept solidly for three hours. You try writing still asleep every thirty seconds for three hours and see how interesting you find it.”

I laugh, and Seb throws me a grin.

“The albatross colony is up this way.” Seb points to a path leading up to the information center.

Once inside the center, we start by getting an introductory lecture on albatrosses from our guide and watching a short film about them.

Seb keeps flicking these little glances over at me, like he’s concerned I’m finding it boring.

And okay, it’s not as interesting as when Seb tells me animal facts, but I learn the Northern Royal Albatross has a three-meter wing span and flies nearly twelve thousand miles a year, and they can go years without touching land.

They also generally mate for life and can still be raising chicks in their sixties.

After our information briefing, we head to the glassed observatory to watch the large white birds nestled in the long tussock grass, their long hooked beaks and dark eyes visible even from a distance.

Then, one stretches its wings to take off.

The albatross is ungainly on the ground, stumbling about like a drunk sailor. But once airborne, it transforms, its massive wings catching the wind. It soars effortlessly in the sky.

Seb’s beanie is pulled low over his forehead as he stares at the albatrosses gliding over the headland.

I try to track the bird, but honestly? I find it difficult to tear my eyes away from the look on Seb’s face. No feat of nature can match his look of awe.

He slips a glance at me. “Aren’t they amazing?”

“Amazing,” I echo.

“We think we’re so clean and green in New Zealand, but because we had no native land mammals here besides bats, our island ecosystem is so vulnerable. Since humans arrived and introduced predators like rats, stoats, and cats, one-third of our native bird species has gone extinct. We had the largest eagle in the world. We had the moa, a flightless grazing bird bigger than an ostrich. We had the New Zealand laughing owl, the Huia, and the Adzebill. And they have all gone extinct, and eighty-two percent of our remaining bird species are endangered.”

“That’s a high percentage,” I say.

“I know. This is what I want to do with my life. I want to do everything I can to save the species we still have.”

Seb’s expression is so alive and passionate as he talks. There’s no trace of his usual shyness and awkwardness.

For an instant, I get a glimpse of the man Seb will become and have a flare of jealousy over the person who will get to be with him, who will receive the care, intensity, and humor that is Seb.

My jealousy is also partly over Seb himself. He has a passion and a purpose. He knows what he wants to do in this world. Unlike me who is so aimless, directionless.

“I think that is really…noble of you,” I say.

Seb’s shoulders stiffen and his gaze flies to my face like he’s trying to work out if I’m mocking him.

Whatever he sees causes his shoulders to relax, though his frown still lingers.

“My dad thinks I should focus on physics or chemistry because there are more job opportunities.

“I think you should follow your heart,” I say softly.

His frown is replaced by a contented expression as he turns to look back at the albatross soaring over the headlands.

As we head down the path back to the car, Seb turns the conversation to me.

“What about you? What area of law do you think you’ll head into?” he asks.

“I can’t really imagine myself as a lawyer,” I admit.

A crease appears on Seb’s forehead. “Then why study it?”

I shrug.

What you study clues people in to your identity, and I was happy for law student to be my identity for a few years. It also got my father’s approval as a sensible option, and parental approval is a scarce resource in my life.

“So what do you want to do if you don’t want to be a lawyer?” Seb asks.

“I have no idea.”

And that’s the identity I’m trying to avoid. Marcus the aimless. Marcus the perpetual disappointment.

Marcus the lost.

The thought of my time as a student ending fills me with dread. I’ve only got one more year before I’ll be expected to make grownup decisions, to decide on the trajectory of my life.

Panic rises in my chest, like how I feel when I’m on a cliff looking down.

“Tell me some more fun facts about New Zealand birds,” I say.

“Did you know that the Tūī can mimic human speech and even cellphone ringtones? Their vocal organs allow them to produce an incredible range of sounds.”

“You’re like having my own personal David Attenborough on tap whenever I need you.”

He gives me a shy smile.

Without thinking, I reach over and thread our fingers together.

His smile widens and my heart starts thumping.

But I keep hold of his hand, only dropping it when we reach the car.

This time we don’t take the coastal route but instead drive the road that takes us along the spine of the peninsula to the more rugged southern coastline, where the wind slams into the landscape straight off the Pacific Ocean.

We stop at Sandfly Bay, where the wind and tides have whipped the white sand into huge dunes that tower above us as we walk along the beach.

Spending time with Seb is just so easy. I don’t feel like I do when I’m with my other friends, like I’ve always got to be on, be the charming guy who spins any experience into fun.

If I were here with Saskia and the rest of the crew, what would I be doing? Jumping down the sand dunes? Trying to entice them all to go skinny dipping in the frigid water?

But I don’t need to do that with Seb.

I usually don’t like to be left alone with my thoughts, but somehow, Seb’s company stops them from spinning off into darkness, and I can just exist in the world without feeling like it is something I’ve got to conquer before it conquers me.

Seb stops at the base of the path before it begins to wind back up. He looks out at the wild waves crashing in, and I can’t help wrapping my arms around him from behind and placing a gentle kiss on the back of his neck.

Seb turns in my arms, and we kiss properly, soft and unhurried. Just Seb’s lips moving against mine.

A simple kiss.

People are coming down the path to the bay, so this is not a kiss that can lead to anything.

Yet, when we pull apart, I’m breathless.

And that breathlessness remains with me as we climb the hill.

When we get to the top, Seb slides me a look.

“You look like you’re worrying about something,” he says.

I stare down at Sandfly Bay.

This landscape is wild and stark, raw and beautiful.

It’s a landscape that inspires truth.

But I don’t want to say the truth to Seb.

I’m worried I’m starting to like you too much.