|| Love to Hate Me ||

{Eleven}

"Wait, I'm not gonna give it a break
I'm not your friend, I never was
I said, wait, I'm not gonna give it a break
I'm not your friend, I never was, no."
-Automatic Stop, The Strokes
__________

Liana sat backstage, sitting with the guys in the dressing room. Robbie couldn't stop gushing about his girlfriend and how much he couldn't wait for her to see the show tonight. Kyle harped on Robbie's reasons for not bringing her backstage, how everyone had been looking forward to meeting her.

Robbie didn't want to admit it, but Liana knew his reasons. He was looking for an excuse for his dearly beloved Ava not to meet Harlan. She couldn't say she blamed him.

Mark had taken one of Robbie's spare drumsticks; with everyone distracted, Mark placed the drumstick between his pant's zipper. "This is why Robbie don't wanna bring her back here, he's afraid she'll leave him for this!"

"A drumstick?" Liana spoke bored, her face twisting at his childish antics.

"Screw you, that was funny." Mark scoffed, tossing the drumstick onto the table of refreshments.

"Whatever. We all know you're too gay for Kyle to even attempt anything with my girl." Robbie retorted, taking a drink of water.

"Bullshit." Kyle shook his head as he stopped strumming his bass. "He just doesn't want her to meet Harlan. Fucking sleaze bag, dude. I see it finally worked on Liana though." Kyle winked, clicking his tongue.

"Oh no." Liana was shaking her head. "Nothing happened between Harlan and I last night. Nothing." She emphasized.

"Right, so is that why you snuck out of the bar and totally forgot your notebook? You were in such a rush to not sleep with Harlan, that you forgot your notebook?" Mark's eyes narrowed as he waited for Liana to snap back.

"What did you do with my notebook, Mark?" Liana placed her hands on her hips, looking down at Mark sternly.

"I don't know what you're talking about, sweetheart."

"Harlan told me you have it. Not funny."

Mark's eyes lolled back in defeat—annoyed that no one seemed to have a sense of humor. He wasn't "gay" for Kyle, he was just the only one in the group willing to play along. Even Harlan (careless and fearless) had drawn the line a few times on their nightly escapades.

"Dude, I told him not to tell you. Can't take a joke, man... the fuck?"

"So what did you do with it?"

"It's on the bus. I put it in your bunk."

The backstage door came barreling open. Once twisting the knob, Harlan had kicked it with his boot. "Sup, ladies?" Harlan strolled in with a thermos in hand. Liana's chest tightened, knowing exactly what was in it. "Leona." Harlan winked.

Everyone seemed indifferent to Harlan and his apparent intoxication—everyone except Liana.

She watched as he plopped down in the black leather sofa beside Kyle. Harlan's ankle propped on his knee as he took a sip from his thermos. His sunglasses were pushing his dark hair out of his eyes, that damn cigarette still behind his ear.