ambit. [hs au]

Chapter 14

I didn't see at what time Harry left.

I have no idea if it was right after I fell asleep on his lap or if he waited around a little longer. All I know is that waking up alone in my bed wasn't exactly a surprise, but it still left a bitter taste on my tongue.

The night before felt, and still feels like a dream. It doesn't matter how hard I think about it, I still can't believe I actually almost went through with it.

Was really about to go all the way with not one, but two guys?

It seems like ever since I landed in Thirskot, asking myself if I was really about to do something ridiculously out of my character is all I've been doing lately. Forget writing my new novel, crafting a plan to conquer my husband back or trying to piece my life back together.

Apparently, I'm wasting my time whoring around dingy nightclubs with bad boys from my past.

I'm starting to think I might suffer from some kind of multiple personality disorder that's triggered by strobe lightning or something like that, because I turn into a completely different person every time I step into that damned nightclub.

Maybe that's just my sick, twisted way of dealing with my life falling apart. I mean, at some point, pressing the self-destruction button might've sounded better than watching things being slowly torn apart, right? At least, they go faster in my way.

Either way, for the second time in a week, today I woke up feeling like trash because of the poor decisions made the night before. I barely managed to drag myself out of bed to pee before I was crawling back under the comforter to pretend I was dead to the rest of the world.

I kept asking myself - what the fuck is wrong with me?

Why do I keep doing these things?

Why do I keep putting myself in those situations?

I mean, yeah, sure they feel good. Two sets of flaming lips burning against my skin, Harry's strong hands holding my waist while Luke pulled my hair and kissed my neck, and the way Harry shoved his fingers covered in my arousal in Luke's mouth--

Fuck, Birdie, don't be like that. Focus!

What I'm trying to say is, as good as it might've been at the moment, the aftermath is just too much to handle. The guilt and the shame and how fucking bad I feel about myself - because at the end of the day, that's the strongest feeling, the one that weights above everything else.

How fucking bad I feel about myself for doing something like that, when I should be focusing on trying to save my marriage.

You would think knowing my husband was currently on a plane flying to fucking Thailand the moment I woke up would help with the guilt trip, at least, right?

Well, it didn't. It just made me sadder.

In fact, the moment I remembered why Harry was even in my room before I fell asleep last night, everything else vanished from my mind and suddenly, the fact that Harry wasn't there in the morning was the least of my concerns.

I've spent the whole morning and most part of the afternoon in bed, torturing myself with the most various scenarios of what the fuck Chris might do when he arrives in Thailand. I kept creating situations where he would meet beautiful, foreign women with sexy accents and long, silk hair, who would be all tiny and hot and seductive, everything I never was, and that he would fall in love with one of them right away, fuck like bunnies and fill her belly with hundreds and hundreds of babies. Also like bunnies.

I kept imagining he would call me to say he was going to make a deposit for my half of the flat we own in L.A and pack all of my things that are still there, because he and his new Thai wife would live there with their children. And that she was nice enough to let him have that pet ferret he always wanted, but I lied about having allergies because I didn't want to deal with the mess.