He had me in the middle of his suite, in nothing but a pair of socks and one of his shirts, mic in hand, dancing my ass off to my off key version of Becky G's Shower.
"La-da-dee, la-da-da, la-da-da," my voice rang out into his suite, as I moonwalked across the wooden floors while staff filed into the room to set up for my party.
This was my response to him having cameras installed in the suite this morning, because f**k him. If he was going to watch from behind a screen, then I was damn well going to give him a show.
I didn't see Harmon again after he stormed out of the suite on Tuesday night. It was two nights and one day later and I was done playing nice. He came back to the suite, presumably when I was out cold. The shirt I was wearing, literally the shirt off his back, was the pr
