|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Fifteen}

"Tell me, don't tell me
The hard part is damning
There's something that you would not like me to tell you."
-Call Me Back, The Strokes
__________

Harlan lied awake in his bed, listening to the soft strums of her acoustic guitar. She wasn't the greatest guitarist—perhaps that's what she needed him for. He smirked at the thought... Liana needed him.

He couldn't seemed to shake her words—the way she said that he "still had a chance."

What did that mean?

Did it mean that if he played his cards right he had a chance to lie between those pretty legs? No. Harlan didn't want that. Well, he can't say it wouldn't be nice, but he wanted something more—something he wasn't so sure of himself.

Harlan groaned, throwing his legs off the side of the bunk. He stood in the walkway of the bus, pretending to stretch incase her eyes wavered his way. He wasn't sure he wanted to approach her just yet; she seemed pretty focused. But if he had to listen to her repeat the start of bar-four again, he was going to lose his damn mind.

Harlan made his way to the table, squinting his eyes at the lights around the nook. He plopped down in the booth beside her, making sure not to brush against her guitar.

She stopped playing, just to glance his way.

"Sup?" Harlan ran his hand through his hair, his cut-off sleeve shirt exposing his armpit—he didn't have much hair.

"Nothin' much." Liana spoke quietly, continuing to strum along. Harlan let out a huff of air, leaning his head back before crossing his arms. His legs were spread too far apart, his knee touching Liana's.

She did it again.

Harlan's hand came down on the neck of the guitar, pressing firmly on the frets, causing the sound to come to an abrupt stop.

"Don't. Don't do that... Again." Harlan spoke low. "F minor... try that instead. Just- please don't start again in bar-four, start from one then work into it." Harlan folded his arms again, staring at Liana's hands, waiting for her to go on.

She wanted to be stubborn—she wanted to put the guitar down and tell Harlan to go fuck himself. But as soon as he told her what chord to play, she knew he was onto something. She started again, this time from the top.

It was exactly what needed to be played. She smiled wide, feeling accomplished, despite it being Harlan that made it possible. She never would've thought to play an F minor.

"I knew I asked you to play for me for a reason." She chuckled softly; holding back the small laugh in her throat.

"Face it baby, you need me." Harlan elbowed her arm playfully. He wished she needed him as badly as he needed her.

"Need is a rather strong word. I would use... appreciate." She smirked.

"I wanna play a game." Harlan said, his expression serious.

"Well this isn't Saw, and I don't much care for Jigsaw. He stopped being scary after the third installment."

Harlan ran his hands through his hair, trying not to let her see him laugh at her pathetic attempt at a joke. "No. I mean, I wanna play a game of truth. Since you're too boring to bring up the uncomfortable shit through casual conversation, I think this is your perfect opportunity to ask me anything."