|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Seven}

"I don't get mad, I get even." Harlan wrapped his arm around Mark's neck, pulling his head into chest. He squeezed his face with his bicep and tricep, dragging his knuckles across the top of his head firmly. Harlan pushed him back to the side of the booth, laughing. "Nah man, we're good."

Mark tried fixing his hair back to it's original state to no avail. "You kinda scared me when you slung that fender across the stage. I saw my life flash before my eyes."

"Aw, did you see Kyle?" Harlan teased, elbowing him in the ribs.

"Fuck you." Mark scoffed.

"Where is your boyfriend, anyway?" Harlan moved his eyes away from Liana, searching the crowded bar for Kyle.

"He went back to the hotel, he's tired."

"So what are you doin' then? Robbie's at the hotel with his girlfriend, probably gettin' laid."

"Lookin' for some strange, duh." Mark giggled; his laugh deep and childlike.

Harlan's eyes went back to Liana, seeing that she was now standing—the hipster looking dude towering over her in his skinny jeans and plaid shirt. She was laughing; nodding with her hand on his arm.

"Is it like this every time you guys go out? Does every creep just- gravitate to her, or somethin'?" Harlan asked, his eyes still on her.

"Pretty much. Why, you wanna piece of that?" Mark and Harlan shared a laugh. "I mean, who doesn't, right?" Mark finished.

"Who'd have the guts to go up to her? She's... intimidating." Harlan admitted. Perhaps that's why he avoided her.

"Liana is not intimidating. Sure she's hot, but I can pick out probably two others in this bar right now even hotter."

"It's not her looks, she's... I don't know. She's too confident, I guess." Harlan finished his beer, chugging the contents of his bottle with ease to rid the taste of his own admission.

He watched as Liana turned, walking away from the glasses wearing schmuck. His narrowed eyes widened when seeing the man's hand smack across her ass. She stopped for a moment, then proceeded to move on without giving the fucker a second glance.

Harlan was already out of the booth, making his way toward the piece of shit. Harlan's hands were balled into fists, he was ready to fight. He wasn't drunk, (for once) he knew he could take him without the alcohol clouding his judgement.

But something told him to move past him—that he needed to find Liana. He knew that getting in a fight with some guy was only going to disappoint her. Instead, Harlan pushed past the creep, his arm bumping into the guy's shoulder as he went to find her.

Harlan found himself standing in front of the restrooms; the creep who had the audacity to put his hand on her was cussing at him from behind. Without a second thought, Harlan entered the woman's restroom.

His brows furrowed in confusion when seeing a long line of women standing against the wall outside the stalls. He couldn't help but to laugh—no wonder women took so long in public restrooms.

His worried lines smoothed when seeing Liana standing by the sinks. He was already getting questioning looks from some girls waiting in line—some looking at him in disgust while others seemed to be in wonder of his presence.