“I’m sick and tired of your attitude, and feeling like I don’t know you. You tell me you want me, then cut me down.”
– Taylor Swift, Tell Me Why
One morning, I spotted Larry standing outside of the hotel. He was was just standing outside the doors, hands in his pockets, watching the traffic go by. I found this to be strange, so I made my way out the doors, and came up behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist, my head coming up to his shoulder blades. He jumped at first, a little startled, and then continued to stand there.
He didn’t pull away, but he also didn’t respond. I pulled back, confused, and stepped in front of him. He didn’t look at me.
“What’s going on?” I asked, confused and a little hurt as his lack of response. He didn’t answer for a while, and for a few minutes I started to believe he wasn’t going to respond at all. He was wearing sunglasses, so I couldn’t see his eyes.
“Nothing. Everything is fine,” he said, still not looking at me.
“Larry…” I said, raising my hand, and touching his cheek. He looked down at me, his jaw slightly clenched. I still couldn’t see his eyes, and it was killing me.
“Bee,” he said in a tone that basically said “drop it.” I pulled my hand away and took a step back.
“Okay, sorry…” I said, making my way around him to go back inside, tears welling up. He had never been so cold to me before. I heard him let out a breath, and then felt his familiar hand take mine, turning me back around to him, and pulling me into him. He wrapped his arms around me, and I desperately tried not to let the tears sitting at the bottom of my eyes fall. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and wrapped my arms around him.
“Je suis désolé,” he said, running his hand through my hair. “I’m sorry. Things been stressful lately.”
I just nodded into his chest, afraid that if I spoke, my voice would crack.
* * *
For the next few days, I didn’t see a lot of Larry. When I did see him, he was going back to his room, or whispering furiously with Laurent. Dahlia didn’t mention Laurent acting strangely, so my assumption was that whatever was bothering Larry wasn’t taking as much of a toll on Lau. I was sitting with her at a table in the lobby of our most recent hotel, and she was chattering about something dance-related, though I wasn’t listening. I was continuously scanning the room to see if Larry had entered it. I had hardly talked to him, and I was really starting to miss him.
Finally, he made an appearance. I just nodded at whatever it was that Dahlia was saying and told her I would be right back. I made my way towards Larry. He was wearing dark jeans (backwards, as always) and a gray t-shirt, his white belt peaking out at the seam. His hair was fluffed up to perfect, and it took everything in me not to just jump his bones. I grabbed his hand, turning him towards me.
“Hey!” I said, smiling wide. He half-smiled.
“Hello,” he said, bending down to peck me on the lips.
“What are you doing this afternoon? Let’s go out and do something,” I said. Larry had always been the one that suggested plans, but I figured with him being so stressed out, it wouldn’t kill me to ask him. Two wrinkles dented his flawless skin, right between his eyes.
“I can’t,” he said, with an emotion in his voice that I couldn’t quite place. I frowned.
“Why not?” I asked, confused. The only priorities that he had were the same as mine. Rehearsals and shows. What could he possibly have planned?
“I just can’t,” he said firmly. The little bit of smile that was left on his mouth was gone, and he just looked down at me, his eyes looking hurt. This made me a little angry, considering he was the one hurting me.
“Larry… I hardly see you anymore. I miss you…” I said, feeling the familiar knot in my throat. He laughed humorlessly.
“Vous ne me rate pas maintenant,” he said. I crossed my arms.
“Don’t do that,” I said angrily. He knew perfectly well that I hardly spoke any French. He looked at me coldly.
“What, Bee? We can’t spend few days apart? Don’t be that way,” he said. I couldn’t prevent the tears from spilling over. I didn’t understand why he was being so hateful.
“I just thought you might want to spend some time with me…” I said, letting the hurt show on my face. Now that the tears were running down my face, there was no use in trying to hide it. He looked away, but not before I caught the hurt in his dark brown eyes, too.
“I can’t do this now…” he said, turning away from me, and making his way back to his room.
All “Once In A Lifetime” stories are written by Les Twins fan Cara Ford