The Publicist's Plight (Book I in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Forty Four: He Loves Me Not

**
I'm packing my things and going back to L.A.

Or am I? No. I'm going to stay here, and tell Sebastian the truth instead of running away from everything. But is that the best choice?

I'm in my hotel room, staring at my suitcase that lays on the ground. The room is quiet; my phone is on silent. I can't dare face the text messages from Sarah or even Sebastian asking why I immediately left the charity ball after I rushed out of the ball room Sebastian and I danced in.

Unable to make a decision, I sit at the foot of my bed and sigh. Garrett's "threat" to me doesn't even seem like something that happened; it's hard to come to terms with finding out the man you practically looked up to was wearing a mask the entire time. After our encounter, I know have two choices: go back to L.A. and talk to Ingrid Jefferson, or stay here. Stay with Sebastian.

I can't bear to stand in his presence and live in the shadow of a lie, especially after him and I danced so closely. It was a feeling so alien to me that it feels as if it shouldn't have happened. To some other woman, yes; some other woman dancing in the main ballroom with a dress so beautiful it captures every eye and legs so long they seem to go on forever.

But me?

I walk into the bathroom and wash my face with cold water and soap until my skin feels raw. After patting my face with a soft towel, I stare at myself in the mirror—I stare at my freckles that are now able to breathe without the blanket of makeup shielding them from the world. I stare at my big brown eyes that always look so wide; so curious and inexperienced. I stare at the roundness of my face and the overall coyness and plainness of my appearance. I'm not ugly; I'm just average. Plain.

As if my hand no longer belongs to me, I reach for my hair bun tightly wound around pins and hair ties and begin to free it. The minute the last pin is out, my brown curls spring from their previous confinement and fall down at my shoulders.

Is this better? I think to myself. Am I better this way? Am I less average this way?

These curls, this hair falling down into soft, chocolate spirals around me in its wideness and untamed liberty make me feel depersonalized. How can I strive to be someone better if I have yet to find closure within my broken self? How can I strive to be anyone better if the sight of my real self, staring back at me, waiting for me to accept it, doesn't even feel real?

This Leslie, the Leslie with her hair down free and her makeup gone from her face is the Leslie that no one has seen—that he hasn't seen. The artificial me—the artificial me that lies to people in order to get what I want and refuses to see myself genuinely deserving of anything is the person that I have shown to the world. But I made the mistake of showing Sebastian these two sides together at the same time, one sometimes over powering the other. The question is: which Leslie will I tell him is real?

Are any of these Leslie's ones that he even wants?

Did he tell you that you're beautiful? Did he make you feel like you were worth something more than what you believe? Oh, don't tell me that he made you think that he's different and that he's changed? You aren't the first one he's done this to, and you certainly aren't the last. Once he gets what he wants out of you, he will throw you away like the rest of them.

I'm a fool. I'm a confused fool who now has no idea what to do; I have never felt this lost since I isolated myself from those in my life who made me feel this exact way. But I'm a fool who has been hurt too many times to be hurt again. Maybe Garrett is lying. Maybe Sebastian has changed or has shown me who he really is.

But what if Garrett isn't lying?

I leave the bathroom and my thoughts behind in it. Approaching my luggage, I run around my room packing everything back into its designated compartment. After my suitcase is closed, I open my laptop to book a flight. I see a text pop up from Sebastian; one of the few he has sent: