With the sun fading over the backdrop of LA, the smog and the bright rays cast warm orange and pink hues across the sky. Despite my angle for being here tonight, I bask in the view, and in the handsome company, enjoying the light conversation we share.
I ask Sebastian some simple questions: what his likes and dislikes are. I tell myself I need to know the answers because any detail counts, but really, I just want to know. I want to have a deeper understanding of the man beneath the impeccable suits.
What was it like for him growing up?
Did he have any brothers and sisters?
How did he get into the business?
He answers every single one of my questions, and instead of satiating my curiosity, his answers only feed it. I am like a fiend near him, wanting more. More information, more knowledge, more time. More of everything.
It’s getting warm. More than a little warm. And believe me, it isn’t from the exertion of a long walk outdoors. It’s because of him. His proximity. The intensity and heat of his gaze. It’s the way he grazes my bare shoulder with the tips of his fingers. The way his hand holds mine. It’s all him.
Sebastian King is a pit of fire in my world of ice.
He’s a contradiction, one I find myself more and more infatuated with each time he speaks.
We’re both sitting, me with gelato, him with nothing more than his handsome profile, as we look out at the stars and the twinkling lights of the lively city. After dinner, Baz stopped to get us gelato. It was a welcome and unexpected surprise. It wasn’t even a fancy gelato spot, just a mom and pop joint on Sunset. If his goal was to make this date feel down to earth and casual, he nailed it. I’ve never felt more content or at ease with another man before tonight, and I hate myself for it.
In a lot of ways, LA is like New York. It never sleeps. It’s always bright and lively. But up here, this is what I miss the most about the West Coast. The air, the hillsides, and the nature.
Sitting up here with the dome of the observatory, overlooking everything, it brings me back to when Madison and I would spend our time up above the graveyard, overlooking everything in Ferndale. I think I’ve stayed so far away from the West Coast to help me forget, but the truth is, I haven’t. Not a single day or even one second goes by when I don’t think about my sister.
As I stare out at the trees and the lively city below, I wonder if my mom and dad miss me as much as I miss them. Do they regret their choices after Maddie’s death? Or are they better off without me in their lives? Someone who is a constant reminder of everything they lost.
“You’re awfully quiet,” Baz observes, snapping me out of my inner musings. I offer him a forced smile and shrug noncommittally.
“Just thinking, I guess.”
“If you’re thinking that hard, I must not be good company.”
This time, the smile I shoot him is genuine. We stare at each other. The moon, the light from the stars, and the city bounce off his handsome face, making it hard to stare for too long. He really is like the sun. Detrimental for my health, yet the warmth I feel building in my chest when I’m around him makes it impossible to stay away.
I glance down, severing the connection to get a better look at the tattoo now that he’s sitting so close. For some reason, my throat constricts, my chest tightening with emotion, when I look at the edges of it.
“The tattoo,” I say, nodding toward his arm. “What made you get it?”
At my question, Baz looks down, lifting his sleeve up higher to reveal his ink. There’s still a mean scab on the portion of the tattoo that wraps around the back of his arm from his injury. I can definitely see why he kept it bandaged now.
The expression on his face is contemplative as he looks at the ink. His brows tug in, creasing into a deep, thoughtful frown.
“Back in high school, our group of friends all got one. It was idiotic, but it was our pact.”
“Looks kind of eerie.”
He chuckles darkly. “I guess it does, if you don’t really understand the meaning. It’s supposed to symbolize the reckoning of order, and the eye, it’s a symbol of seeing all. All-knowing.”
“So you guys were basically into the Illuminati?” I quip, and he laughs. It’s a deep baritone laughter that I feel vibrate through my body.
“No. Just young and dumb.”
Playing the part of someone who knows nothing about him, I ask, “The guys you got the tattoo with, are you all still friends?”
He glances up at me, nodding slowly. “You can say that.”
Evasive.
He obviously doesn’t trust me enough just yet.
“What about you, Mackenzie? I feel like you’re always asking all the questions, and you’re still a mystery to me.”
“There’s nothing to tell really. I’ve lived a plain, boring life. Even now, sadly.”
“We’ll have to rectify that, won’t we?” Leaning in, Baz grazes his lips over mine in a feather soft touch. It’s such an epic tease that I’m left with no other choice than to kiss him back, pouring my everything into him. Our tongues war with each other, just like my heart and mind. Our hands grope and squeeze like we’re two teenagers sneaking around together, copping a feel.
When we get back from our date, I place a hand over his warm, solid chest to stop him from coming inside my room. As much as I’d like to spend the night with him again, I think tonight I need to take a step back and record what I’ve learned. And just because he’s had my body countless times and in countless positions, I don’t want to become a passing fixation for him. I need to remain at the forefront of his mind.
We part ways amicably, and even though he looks surprised by my willingness to head to bed, I know I have him hooked.
Men love what they can’t have.
Back in my room, I fire up my laptop and open several of my documents, typing in all the information I’ve learned tonight. And for the first time in months, when I click onto my open word doc, the words fly across the screen—the story I’ve been trying to tell for years finally takes shape. A smile stretches across my face as I pour out the information.
As I’m working, I can feel her talking to me, and it’s times like these when I feel insane. When I feel like I’m losing my mind because there’s no way she can be here talking to me. She’s dead. I don’t care how much research is done. I refuse to believe twin phenomena is that strong.
I can feel her glare. Her judgment.
I slam my hot mug of tea down on the counter and glare her way.
“Stop looking at me.”
I glance out of the corner of my eye. She crosses her arms over her chest and smirks. It’s like a blow to the chest because it’s so Madison. I don’t know how to handle the mannerism.
“You really think you can find a way to stay in his life? What are you going to do when it comes to the rest of the guys? You’re lucky they haven’t realized who you are yet.”
My upper lip curls over my teeth. “You don’t think I know that? I’m different now. I don’t look the same. So long as I continue being this other person, I can do it—keep up the charade.”
She purses her lips in disbelief. And I feel myself growing more and more agitated.
“You don’t think I can do this, do you?” I jerk up rigidly, feeling my temper rise. “Newsflash, Madison, you’re fucking dead, all right? I am your only chance at finding the truth and getting justice. You realize that, right?”