of diamonds and dry martinis [hs]

Chapter Three *

"No, *BLEEP*! You came into my home with that *BLEEP* attitude when I was willing to give you a chance!"

The television was droning on with the sounds of some new reality show about Los Angeles socialites as Merci sat on the couch far too big for a household of only two. She was curled up in the corner with her legs tucked up underneath a light blanket as the women on the screen bickered and brawled against one another.

She had turned on the television some hours ago, but at this point, it was merely background noise as she fiddled with her phone. Closing and opening social media apps like clockwork, as if expecting to see something new; every time though, it was all the same.

Roger had left for work sometime early in the morning. He woke her up softly to let her know he'd be at the office late that night; something about new clients and a very important meeting. She didn't know what any of it meant for him, and she didn't really care. All this meant to her was that she had the house to herself for the remainder of the day. She was excited; ecstatic really.

She went to her pilates class and had an impressive session. Afterward, she went with a few girls from class for smoothies at a modern cafe down the street. When she got home, she took a long shower and washed away the sore muscles and exhaust. She went downstairs to the kitchen and made a morning snack of sun butter and organic dates to hold her over till lunch. From there, she plopped herself onto the couch and clicked on the television.

And there she sat, unmoving and unmotivated once again. She considered heading to the mall to window shop, maybe driving to the cafe down the street for a coffee, throwing on a swimsuit, and sunbathing on the deck. All potential ideas, but all done a million times over; all feeling equally as lonely as the last.

Her phone screen lit up in the palm of her hand, and when she glanced down at the boxed notification, her stomach dropped.

INSTAGRAM

@harrystyles sent you a message

Was she nervous? She asked herself this as she stared down at the notification, her thumb twitching with the urge to open the message. She couldn't remember the last time a singular person made her feel this way. The way her stomach seemed to plummet upon seeing his name, how a sharp buzz flowed up through her legs and into the rest of her being, her mind scrambling with currents far too strong to shut out.

She couldn't stand it any longer and pressed her thumb into the screen, pulling up the white background of their now open line of communication.

@harrystyles: morning, got any plans today? x

Her heartbeat picked up intensely as she stared down. There was an undeniable tension between the two of them; the way his eyes flickered over her face during the party made her shudder.

She knew she should ignore the message; close the app and pretend like it never happened. She should call her husband and see how his day was going, tell him she'd leave him leftovers from a deliciously healthy meal she'd cook that night. Tell him she loves him and that she's so grateful for everything he does.

If she had done that, although, we wouldn't have a story to tell.

@ohmerci: not really, what did you have in mind?

♢ ♢ ♢ ♢

The East Coast sun beat down on her head as her flip-flops clacked against her heels with every step she took down the uneasy dock. The harbor this time of year was packed with boats and yachts, each ranging in size, color, and price tags. Her eyes glided from each slip marker in search of the numbers Harry had messaged her shortly into their conversation.