*FICTION AWARDS CHICKLIT WINNER 2017*
Lies. Betrayal. Secrets. Corruption. Just your average day in an American corporation.
Sebastian Harrison has successfully secured his spot as Harrison Incorporated's Chief Executive Officer. And although the g...
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SEBASTIAN
Being back home is a feeling almost unfamiliar to me.
Everything is pretty much the same - the Board up my ass, Claire's pestering me to no fucking end and the everyday struggles I'm used to facing with carrying a name like mine. Nothing has changed. But still, something is off. Different.
Leslie is still in Scotland. At least I think she's still in Scotland; I left before I could even ask her if she was planning on leaving back to the states that morning or staying with her family. The morning after Leslie and I had sex, Claude woke me up when the sun was barely rising above the horizon.
"Sebastian," he whispered, pushing against my shoulder. "You need to get up."
I opened one eye, which was enough to see the urgency on Claude's face. He was already dressed, bags packed in the corner of the room - even my own.
"What's going on?" I groaned. My first instinct was to assume it had to do with Leslie, which awakened me even more. I don't even know why Leslie came to mind, but she did, which worried the shit out of me.
"We need to head home. I already called a cab, but you need to get dressed."
That's all he said before walking out the door. The squeak of the faucet was muffled on the other side of the door before the water of the shower followed right after. I sat up, rubbed my eyes but didn't move. I just sat there wondering what the fuck was going on. Claude came into the room, wondering why I wasn't getting ready.
"Claude, what the fuck is going on?" I asked.
"Can you just shower and get ready first?" he snapped at me, making me even more reluctant to follow his demands. And when he sensed that my stubbornness and curiosity was going to be a problem, he pulled out his phone and showed me the screen. I saw my father's name and knew the graveness without having read the text yet. And after I read the text he sent, I swallowed the questions begging to come out of my mouth and hopped in the shower. I didn't say goodbye to Leslie; those were Claude's instructions. I only opened her bedroom door, watching her sleep soundly and brushing hair out of her still face. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye; I didn't want to leave at all. But I didn't want to ruin what is now growing between her and I, no matter how fucked up and morally shit it is.
So now, I'm back home where everything is unfamiliar yet the same. I'm tired; barely slept on the flight home and forced to get ready for a dinner between my father and I. I'm somehow plagued with the fear that Alejandro will be there, but he's deep in Colombia, doing God knows what. I have an idea; Leslie is completely in the dark. I feel unworthy of her for lying to her, especially since I told her that I loved her. I meant every word of my confession, but I can't help but feel as if I don't deserve her affection in return, and that's if she even feels the same way that I feel about her. I know what sex means more than anyone; the different meanings behind it. And I'm positive it meant something completely different to her than it meant to me. That shit fucking hurts.
