** I love you. Those are the three words Sebastian Harrison told me right before he fell asleep on me. "I love you," he said. That's it. No explanation, no reasoning, no retraction. Just those three words. But I never knew three words could eat me up so badly inside. I helped him to the bed, and he sleepily climbed on top of the covers and passed out. I stared at him before I left him be, and went through every possible meaning behind the three words besides what theyactuallymean: "I love you...as a friend." "I love you...playfully."
SEBASTIANThis is going to come out as a complete shocker, but I'm horrible at talking to girls.Yes, I said it. I'm fucking terrible at talking to girls.Before you get all confused and all, "Sebastian, are youreallythat hungover?" on me, let me break it down for you a bit.When I say I'm terrible at talking to girls, I mean that I'm terrible at talking to girls that I care about. Throughout my life, I haven't had many girls that I truly cared for. There was Sonya, but she was one of my best friends. There was Gloria, but she was a mother figure to me. I cared about Ingrid, but not the way that she cared about me; I didn't love her like she loved me. Regardless, I always thought th
****It's been one day since I quit my job.Well, it's been one day since I terminated my services to Garrett. Because if I would have quit completely, I would have been packing my things and hauling my ass back to Los Angeles, looking for a publications firm that would possibly want me. But no. Instead, I'm in my room in the guest house, tucking my lavender silk blouse into my black slacks as if I'm still a working woman, and thinking of more press strategies that will mend Sebastian's image.I haven't told anyone that I have quit; everything happened so fast. One moment, I was standing next to Sebastian in the hospital hallway, accepting the harsh words being told to me by Patrick, then the next I'm trying to get out of the hospital. After that, I'm stuck in an elevator with Ga
**For the record: I hate running. Especially from people who are faster than me. But I guess throwing my shoes at Sebastian's face gave me a bit of a head start. But not for long. The minute I run through the kitchen and through the back door, I hear him sprinting through the kitchen behind me. I'm screaming now like this is a horror movie, because this is. When have I ever asked to be involved in this? Guest house. Run to the guest house. That was the initial plan, and I follow through with it until I see a tall, bearded man blocking my way. "That's her, Claude!" Sebastian informs him. Asshole.
I sit on the couch in the guest house, staring out of the window in the living room at the dimly lit dinner scene by the main house—where the Vaun's are having dinner tonight. I wonder endlessly if Sebastian is there, too. All I want is to speak with him, at least.The feeling of his lips still makes my heart weightless from time to time. But then remembering how he dismissed our kiss so quickly makes that light feeling go away. Why, is all I want to know. Not why he kissed me, but why did he turn away?The shower I took a couple of hours ago did little to ease my nerves. I got some work done, answered some calls and sat with Sarah in the library (A very happy Sarah, considering she avoided being thrown in the lake) as she herself went through the paperwork and changed my status to Sebastian's publicist officially. It's made
** As if the tension between Sebastian and I wasn't badenough, now we have the fact of more people knowing about us kissing to make it worse. It's currently the next morning. I'm packing my things, as are Lucas, Sarah and Sebastian. We finally leave this afternoon, back to L.A.; back home. I guess I can reflect on what I've learned or what I've accomplished during my stay here, but it would take too long to list. I know now that I do have feelings for Sebastian, and I also know that Garrett has a target set on my head, but he's being really quiet about things, which makes having this said target even worse; I could be shot any moment—metaphorically or literally. When all of my things are packed in their bags, I sit on the edge of the bed. Somehow, I manage to only think about everything I haven't been able to accomplish: Sebastian still didn't get the closure he needed with his family, Sebastian didn't get the publicity he was meant to get
** I would have told you everything that happened at the Harrison Inc. Company party as it happened. I would have told you about the chaos that ensued; the tears and the screams and the shock and the pain, not to mention the embarrassment. But everything happened so fast, I had no time to think straight. The world was spinning, and then it all went black. So now, as I sit underneath my desk in my former office, dwelling in the dark with my canister of wine in my hand as the rest of the party goers enjoy themselves in the conference room below, I will tell you everything that happened, and it is then that you will understand why I'm hiding in my old office as blackness and drunkenness consumes me. Now...where t
** SEBASTIAN This was the last thing I expected to happen tonight. Of course, everything in my life has been unexpected since I've met Leslie—all in a good way, to strengthen my case. But in her own case, it's an unexpected that no one wants to endure. Sarah and I are bystanders, watching Leslie and her mom argue, or more correctly, Leslie's mother yell at her while she tries to break free from her hold. Shit, I should do something, but is it in my jurisdiction to? I feel fucking horrible for not intercepting anything but I don't know if it's my place to. "Your father left because of you!" Leslie's mom screamed at her—Franc