|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Nineteen}

"I've never ever cried when I was feeling down
I've always been scared of the sound
Jesus don't love me, no one ever carried my load
I'm too young to feel this old."
-Cold Desert, Kings Of Leon
__________

Harlan had kept his word. A month had passed and not a single drop of alcohol touched his lips. He stayed behind while the others went to bars after shows. There was a rocky adjustment period, but Liana had gotten him through it.

Every night, Liana found herself in Harlan's bed. She'd fall asleep in his arms facing away, only to wake up buried in his chest. They kissed when no one was looking—they held hands under the table to not raise suspicion. And yet, they still hadn't established what was going on.

Sex.

God, did she want him. But, Harlan never made a move. He cracked jokes about it, but never acted on it despite finding themselves alone together in hotel rooms. He had ample opportunity, but never once took advantage of it.

His lips only did so much, his kisses weren't long enough. They were sneaking around without the benefits. Something about the secrecy of their amorous behavior was thrilling to Liana. It made her want him more. She didn't understand what was taking Harlan so long to make his move. He had no problems sleeping with strangers, he barely knew their names. So why Harlan hadn't tried yet was something she didn't understand.

Liana watched as Harlan's fingers moved along the frets of the guitar. He sat on the other side at the table of the bus, plucking away with a pen in his mouth.

Harlan was writing again. She found herself staring across the table at him, her top teeth pressing into her bottom lip as she admired him.

Harlan stopped, taking the pen out of his mouth to jot down a few scribbles on his McDonald's napkin. "Shit." He mumbled; his pen ripping through the thin material. He kept on writing—Liana finally realizing she could actually make herself useful. It was just difficult to pry her eyes away. He was... sexy, being in his own element.

Liana opened her notebook, tearing out a blank page. She slid it across the table, but Harlan hadn't noticed until the edge of the paper bumped into his knuckle. He smiled without looking up, knowing her eyes were on him.

"Thanks, babe." He laughed, moving the pen onto the blank page.

"Next time, ask." She propped her chin on her fists, continuing to internally melt at the sight of him.

Liana Cox was in love with Harlan Hayworth.

How could she have let this happen? She had been so good at keeping her guard up—building her walls up so high she was sure Harlan couldn't climb over. Perhaps he hadn't—perhaps Harlan had dug his way under, or simply walked around it. She wasn't sure how, but it had been effortless for Harlan.

She was terrified of getting hurt. She had been scared of Harlan getting what he wanted from her and that being it. But now, Liana wasn't so sure what he wanted from her. He hadn't made a move—a simple kiss had never went too far. She was in love with him and couldn't even say for sure what he was to her.

They were friends, but not with benefits. They were faithful, without the commitment. It was confusing and it was driving her mad.