|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Thirteen}

"So many fish there in the sea
I wanted you, you wanted me
That's just a phase, it's got to pass
I was a train moving too fast."
-Automatic Stop, The Strokes
__________

Weeks had passed and things seemed to be just as they had been before. Harlan was ignoring Liana—going out of his way not to acknowledge her presence. There was tension—more tension than there had ever been before.

But through it all, Harlan kept his word. He didn't drink before or while on stage. But after each show, he was sure to make up for lost time.

Harlan was surprised that everyone was at the bar. Usually at least one member of the group stayed behind, whether it be on the bus or at the hotel. But tonight, everyone had came out—including Liana.

Harlan was avoiding her. He was going out of his way not to converse with her. It didn't stop him from watching; noticing little things about her habits.

She showered every night after a show—it was the very first thing she did. Then, she would sit at the table on the bus and write for an hour, then play the guitar for another hour. Every Friday (show, or no show) she would call her mother. If she couldn't sleep, she'd be back at the table—writing.

There were times Harlan wanted to yank that notebook out from under her hand. There were times he wanted to smash her guitar on the walkway of the bus—anything to get her attention.

Harlan was avoiding Liana... it didn't mean she had to avoid him. She was good at it—even better at it.

The more he watched her from across the bar, the more he wanted to put a stop to the show she was displaying.

This wasn't like Liana; she was letting a stranger put his hands on her. She was giggling like a damn school girl, blushing at his jokes—jokes Harlan knew weren't funny.

He turned up his drink, trying to rid the foul taste rising to the back of his throat. Only it was a taste he couldn't get rid of, it was the taste of anger.

He watched her as she wrapped her arms around the man's neck, the stranger's hands roaming the curves of her waist. She kissed him.

She fucking kissed him.

In that moment, Harlan could no longer avoid Liana. He slammed his drink down on the table, standing from the booth with pursed lips. He knew where this was headed—he knew Liana was about to make a mistake.

Harlan stormed through the rather large crowd of bar patrons, bumping shoulders and chests as he fought through the crowd to get to her.

"Yeah?... You think so?" Liana giggled with a flirtatious grin. She took a sip of whiskey—not usually her drink of choice. When she turned back around, the good looking young man wasn't the only one standing by her side.

"Uh, what do you think you're doin'?" Harlan asked. To Liana's surprise, he was speaking to her.

"Excuse me?"

"What the fuck are you doin'?" Harlan repeated. This time, his tongue a bit sharper.

"Not that it's any of your business, but I'm having a drink and talking to my new friend." She placed her hand on her "new friend's" arm—the sight making Harlan's anger intensify.