14. Marcus

14

Marcus

Seven Years Later

“I’m getting married in two days!” My best friend is practically vibrating with excitement, her smile threatening to outshine the Fijian sun beating down on us as we stand at the outdoor bar.

I can’t help chuckling. “I’m aware of that fact.”

“It’s going to be a whole day about Saskia!”

“Isn’t every day a Saskia day?” I ask, and she lets loose her tinkling laugh.

She puts down her cocktail to wrap me in a hug, and I get a nose full of her Gucci perfume. “I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I say honestly.

When she releases me, her eyes are brimming with tears. She wipes a hand across her face with a rueful smile.

“God, I’m turning into such a sap. Quick, say something snarky before I ruin my makeup completely.”

“I think it might be too late to save your face,” I say. “That ship has already sailed.”

Saskia elbows me. “Hey, we’re not all famous actors with hair and makeup people ready to airlift in for emergency Botox at a moment’s notice.”

“I’ll have you know I have never touched Botox. I don’t really like the idea of injecting myself with bacterial toxins.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Is that what Botox is made from?”

“Yep. It’s actually made from the same bacteria that causes food poisoning.”

It’s amazing the random facts I’ve picked up in the past seven years of being constantly surrounded by people obsessed with how to keep themselves pretty.

She shudders. “God, you sound like Seb. He’s normally the source of random scientific facts in my life.”

Seb.

My acting lessons come in handy right now. I keep my face neutral and my hand steady as I reach for my cocktail.

“When is your family getting here, anyway?”

“They fly in this afternoon.”

“Oh, right.” I think I manage to deliver that line with perfect nonchalance.

I’ve been thinking about Seb a lot recently, knowing I will see him again. I’ve been thinking about the Marcus I was with him back at university.

Seven years later, I still don’t understand the hold my best friend’s brother had over me. How it developed. Why it took me so long to get over him.

Because I’d spent the first nine months in Los Angeles missing him, having to resist the urge every day to get on a plane and travel the thirteen hours home to see him.

I’d thought constantly about contacting him, sending a benign message and getting a benign message back.

We could be friends, right?

But given how frequently I reread every message we’d ever exchanged, I knew I shouldn’t restart any form of communication between us.

I was in Los Angeles. He was in New Zealand. Those facts weren’t changing. Which meant I had to get over him.

So I’d decided the only way to forget Seb was to pile my brain full of memories of other guys.

But every hookup I had made me miss Seb more because there was such a contrast between the way he’d looked at me and the way other guys did. Sometimes, it felt like I was on a mission to sleep my way through the guys of Los Angeles to see if I could find someone who would make me forget about Seb.

Nothing worked.

Seven years later, I’m now convinced Seb was an aberration in my sex life. Our crazy sexual compatibility, combined with the fact I grew to like him as a person—along with the added dimension of being forbidden—all combined to screw with my brain.

“This is going to be the most awesome week ever,” Saskia is saying, and I switch my mind away from her brother back to her. “I mean, look at this place.”

She’s right. The resort is a paradise of stunning villas set among perfectly maintained tropical gardens, with crystal-clear turquoise water stretching out to the horizon. Palm trees sway gently in the breeze, and the air is filled with the scent of exotic flowers.

I’ve come a long way since the days of my moldy flat in Dunedin and have worked in some of the world’s most glamorous locations, but this place is almost unreal in its perfection.

“It’s so nice to have a break from the office,” Saskia continues as she picks up her cocktail and walks over to one of the sun loungers next to the pool. I follow her, settling myself on the lounger next to her. “That Centriac merger almost killed me. And Tom has been working nearly nonstop on the industrial action at the port.”

It’s always weird to hear Saskia’s stories about her and her fiancé Tom’s lives as corporate lawyers in Auckland, knowing I could have drifted into that trajectory so easily if Jake hadn’t tapped me on the shoulder in that Las Vegas nightclub.

Instead, my life is now a roller coaster ride I’m still not entirely sure I didn’t dream up. Two years as a human coat hanger led to a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it role on Hospital Heights . Somehow, that tiny part snowballed into me headlining Cupid’s GPS , a rom-com about a lovelorn satellite navigation voice actor. Against all odds, the movie became the feel-good hit of the summer.

The years since then have been absolutely mad. Cramming in as many movie shoots as possible, capitalizing on my chance to make it big.

Because I’ve quickly learned that Hollywood is like a shark-infested ocean. The moment you stop swimming, you start sinking. And the water is full of hungry up-and-comers ready to take a bite out of your career.

It turns out that pretending to be someone else is my ideal job. Everyone thinks they know you, but really, they only know the characters you play.

The extra bonus is that the whole world is constantly telling you you’re amazing.

It’s intoxicating, addictive.

Especially for someone like me.

The darkness in my head, the memories that try to drag me down, are kept at bay by the constant adoration, the perpetual spotlight.

And my career means that away from the set, I have an already-built persona I can fall into. A charming and cocky movie star, always ready with a witty quip or a flirtatious smile.

Saskia leans in toward me. “Right. Now you’ve got to tell me all the Hollywood gossip. I want all the dirt.”

“What, you mean the dirt like the fact Vincent Smith is terrified of birds? They had to use CGI for all the pigeon scenes in his latest rom-com because he kept running off set screaming.”

Saskia tips her head back, laughing. “Really? Oh my god, that’s hilarious.”

I continue to fill my best friend in on the gossip I haven’t mentioned to her in our frequent messaging chats.

As the sun dips lower in the sky, more of Saskia’s friends join us by the pool for cocktails.

It’s interesting to see the way they regard me, alternating between staring openly and averting their gaze when I catch them looking. A girl with dark hair keeps not-so-subtly angling her phone for a selfie with me in the background.

Even the people I went to high school and law school with seem slightly starstruck as they ask questions about my life in Hollywood.

“So, Marcus.” Saskia’s friend Ana leans in, eyes sparkling. “What was it like kissing Min Li? Did you have to do many takes?”

I paste on my media-trained smile. “A gentleman never kisses and tells. But I will say Min is a consummate professional.”

Ana giggles.

“But as you know, kissing girls hasn’t ever really done it for me,” I add.

At that moment, the universe decides to throw at me the one person who definitely does do it for me.

Seb.

The cocktails swirl in my stomach.

He looks both familiar and different as he walks across the deck with his parents.

He’s filled out slightly and his stride is more assured than seven years ago. And he’s wearing wire-rimmed glasses, which make him look older.

But when he laughs at something his dad says, his deep chuckle is so familiar. And as he comes closer, I can read the print on his T-shirt: Science: It’s like Magic but Real .

For a second, I forget how to breathe. My heart does a complicated gymnastics routine in my chest, and I grip my drink tighter to stop my hand from shaking.

Saskia’s off her lounger, moving to hug her family.

Shit.

I’d convinced myself the feelings I had for Seb were delusions, that I’d spent a few months pretending to be something I wasn’t. Pretending to be the kind of guy who could actually be in a relationship, be a decent boyfriend.

But seeing Seb now, all the memories I’ve tried so hard to suppress swamp me. The warmth of Seb’s body pressed against mine as we lie in bed together. How his skin was so soft I couldn’t help tracing patterns on it. That feeling of peace I used to have when I held him. A feeling I’ve never been able to replicate in any other way.

Oh, holy fuck.

But I’m not the same person I was seven years ago.

Looking at Seb now, I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not.