|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Seven}

"We're gonna fuel the fire
We're gonna stoke it up
We're gonna sip this wine
And pass the cup"
-Manhattan, Kings Of Leon
__________

For the first time since the tour began, Harlan didn't bring any fans along for his nightly drinking. He wished he could say that he was just embarrassed; he wished he could say that he was ashamed of the way he had acted on stage over that damn song, but that would be a lie. Harlan hated lying, even to himself.

He kept his eyes on Liana at the bar, watching her as she hovered over her notebook, every so often taking a drink of beer. He couldn't keep his eyes off her. Every time someone came up to him, his gaze seemed to find it's way back to Liana at the front of the bar.

A pretty little blonde made her way over to Harlan; her shirt too short and too thin to be wearing without a jacket. He knew her intentions before she even opened her mouth to greet him.

Women only wanted one thing from Harlan; they wanted a night to remember—a night they could gloat to their friends about. Just to say they kissed him and that they 'almost' slept with him.

"Hi." She spoke sweetly, the pitch of her voice a little too high. "I'm Abby." She smiled, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"Hey baby, nice to meet you." Harlan smiled wide, reaching out his hand for Abby to take.

"I'm such a huge fan, really. My girlfriend over there told me you were here. I couldn't believe it." She giggled; her cheeks blushing.

Any other night, Harlan would've bought her drinks—any other night, Harlan would've asked her to come to his hotel room. But for some damn reason, his eyes wavered to Liana instead.

"Yep... I'm really here." Harlan forced a laugh. He wasn't sure how to respond to the delightful Abby with breasts larger than her waist. If it had been any other night, his eyes would've been glued to her 34C cup. It should've been hard not to notice; the fabric of her shirt clinging too tightly.

"You uh, you wanna do something tonight? Somewhere... not here?" She bit her bottom lip, looking up at Harlan timidly. He could see she was bashful about her own forthcoming—that it wasn't typical of the petite young woman.

"As much as I'd love to have you alone, I don't think it'd be fair for your friend over there... Excuse me." Harlan moved away before Abby had time to respond.

He found an empty booth, one within sight of Liana. To think he had spent two months avoiding her was something he couldn't seem to wrap his head around in this moment. There was the obvious reason; Liana was naive—this industry was going to chew her up and spit her out. She took it too seriously and couldn't seem to tell the difference between the truth and a lie.

That was her biggest mistake.

She was young, he supposed; he too had been naive at one point in time. It was like an epiphany—just like the one he was having now as he stared across the bar at Liana.

His eyes narrowed when seeing that she was talking to someone—a man. His jaw clenched at the sight, seeing her smile as she closed her notebook, looking up at the hipster looking fellow. He took a drink of his beer; not really in the mood to get plastered on whiskey. 

"You still mad, bro?" Mark asked, sliding into the booth next to Harlan. There was a smirk on his face, one that showed smugly.