|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Thirty-Two}

"I know you're thinkin' I'm heartless
I know you're thinkin' I'm cold
I'm just protectin' my innocence
I'm just protectin' my soul."
-Too Good At Goodbyes, Sam Smith
__________

Their first show with Laura on drums had gone smoothly. She played the songs just as well as Robbie had. Mark and Kyle on the other hand seemed distracted—they couldn't stop gawking at Laura; winking and blowing kisses. But she took it like a champ, brushing off their advances with laughs and eye rolls.

For two days, Harlan kept sober. He was trying to build up the nerve to confront Liana about the mess Robbie had created—the mess Harlan had prolonged with his ignorance.

"Hey." Harlan stood beside Liana backstage as she reached across the table for a water.

Harlan had startled her. He hadn't acknowledged her presence since that day on the bus, when Harlan had told her to 'stay the fuck away.'

"Hey?" She spoke carefully.

"Can we talk?"

Liana looked around the room, watching as Mark and Kyle tried flirting with Laura. She played along, doing "thumb wars" with them. Liana couldn't help but to internally cringe at the sight—no one seemed to catch on that they were barking up the wrong tree, so to speak. Laura had a girlfriend back home in Washington.

"Ah... yeah, sure." Liana followed Harlan out of the room, leaning against the wall.

Harlan closed the door, stuffing his hands in his leather jacket before turning to face her. He hung his head down, scratching under his bottom lip apprehensively.

She wanted to hold him—to wrap her arms around him and beg for his forgiveness; despite her having done nothing wrong.

But the more she looked at him, the more she wanted to break those sunglasses setting on top of his head. She wanted to take that cigarette out from behind his ear and crush it between her fingers. Anything to make him pay for the amount of time he had ignored her, for jumping to conclusions the way he had.

"Robbie told me about the deal."

"And?"

Harlan sighed, tilting his head back in despair. "I was wrong. I was- I was so, so wrong, Lee." Harlan spoke with a whine, finding himself gravitating toward her. "I was wrong."

Liana nodded. She kept her eyes on his, watching him stand before her. She wanted to reach out. She wanted to place her hand on his chest and feel his heart. She wanted to feel that heart against hers—feel it thump against her bare flesh as he made her feel things no one else ever had.

But she also wanted to hit him. She wanted to smack him across his stupid face—push his back against the door.

"Please... say something'." Harlan begged—his eyes searching her face for a sign of forgiveness. He saw none.

"What do you want me to say?" Liana whispered, looking up into his dark eyes.

"That I'm a dumbass. That I'm the biggest piece of shit that's ever walked into your life. That I don't deserve to even be standing here talkin' to you right now." Harlan's voice trembled. It was clear he had a problem admitting his faults.