Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang (Teacher-Student Romance Robert Downey Jr.)

Let's Hurt Tonight.

"So, I guess  there are three different ways to handle this," Hannah shows me the amount of fingers.

 I shift my seat a little. Lying in an empty bathtub isn't exactly the most comfortable thing to do. "And they are?" 

The tv resounds from the bedroom coming through the closed bathroom door. John is watching it I assume, trying too hard to give the impression that he definitely is not listening. Meanwhile, Hannah is sitting across from me, fiddling with the tiny soap packet that has the hotel label in  autumn red letters written across the back.  

"I love hotels," she says. "Always liked them."

"I know." My reply is weak and comes out uninterested. "Will you tell me them or not?" 

"Don't rush me," she replies and even though I'd expected her to snap, Hannah smiles calmly back at me. "Success is not a guarantee."

"I figured." I nod 

"Excuse me? I wasn't the one crying in the bathtub for the last forty-five minutes. So don't get cocky." 

"Point taken," I reply and sigh. 

With one hand she brushes a strand of hair behind her ear. 

"First one, which is quite obvious, at least I think that, is that you go to Dad and apologize for everything. By that I mean really apologize, like bring out the big guns. Using words like 'vulnerable', 'lost' and the need to impress him, might help." 

I look at her with disagreement. "Sounds a bit like daddy issues." 

"Well, I don't want to be the bad-mouther, but blaming Robert for everything might be your best option in this scenario." 

I flinch as she pronounces his name. "Maybe not the best solution." 

Hannah nods. "Fair enough, I've got two more." 

"Bring it." 

"Brace yourself." 

We giggle and for a moment you would've thought we'd been talking about a movie we've recently watched together. 

"What's the next one then?" 

"You could pull a Sherlock," Hannah states. 

"I don't know if faking my own death would be entirely adequate, considering you're marrying into his family." 

She shrugs. "Just a thought." 

I stare blankly at the ceiling. Hannah's options are not really helping in any way. At least not with taking my mind off of what happened the other night. Of the things that were said. Especially not the hurt that I saw in his eyes. It's like a loop I repeat over and over again in my head. I can almost see it. It's right there. In front of my eyes. A growing urge inside of me wanting to reach out my hand and touch his face. Afraid of closing my eyes, because when I do there isn't anything that could distract me from the fact that I haven't spoken to him in over thirty-six hours. Sleeping wasn't really an option. So I called Hannah in the middle of the night. She told me to come over. John didn't do anything but greet me friendly, before Hannah gradually pushed me into the bathroom of their hotel room. 

"That leaves only the third one, I guess." 

"Yes?" 

She sits up, a stern expression on her face. "It's my favorite." 

I shut my eyes, waiting to hear another peculiar scenario. 

Hannah takes a breath. "The last option leaves you getting tired of your own shit, finally coming clean not only to Dad, but to him, to stop wallowing in self pity and to go out there and get what's yours."