| FATES 17 |
| Lance woke with a start, his pillow drenched in sweat and his heart hammering erratically. He reached over into the darkness to feel for Olivia but she wasn't there. He bolted up, one hand over his heart, his head swimming. A dream, he must have had a nightmare of sorts. A faint glow illuminated the room and he heard a sniffle from the corner. "Did I wake you?" Olivia asked. "I don't think so." He climbed out of the bed and switched on the lamp next on the table beside the bed. "Hey, you're crying," he cooed, hurrying to her side. "What's wrong?" He noticed she still wore her street clothes which told him she had yet to be to bed. "Baby, what?" His deep eyes searched her red rimmed ones for explanation. Lance brushed the hair from her face and wiped a stray tear away with his thumb. "Livvy, talk to me." She snifled again, wishing she'd just stayed away, stayed on the cold, hard floor of the stairwell and cried until she had nothing left. Instead, she'd pulled herself together enough to head down to the bar, have herself a shot or two and call Elite, making an appointment for the morning. Fuck it. If she had a shot, she planned on taking it. Lance would understand. It was either get out of his life, or hurt him. If she revealed JC's offer, she knew Lance would be furious, possibly relapse, or worse, blame her. She'd thought it out carefully, envisioning each scenario. The only one that made any semblence of sense was the one where she took a chance at modeling and made a new life for herself, sans Lance. She knew it would hurt, hurt them both, but he could get over it. The new album would come out and blow up and he'd be fine, forgetting all about her. The only problem was JC, the fact he would win. Lance persisted, fussing over her like a mother hen. "Baby, what's got you so upset? Is it me? What I said earlier because I didn't mean it and..." She pressed her finger to his lips. "Shh." Olivia didn't want to hear him talk, or try to pry things from her. She wanted to take him back to bed and make love for one last time. Just one sweet night of endless passion and 'i love yous' and all the wonderful things Lance was. If fate had brought them together, maybe fate would have mercy and work it all out. She stood up, pulling him to his feet. The tears fell randomly down her face at what she knew, at what he had yet to learn, that they were about to be through. "Make love to me, Lance. Please?" Her eyes blurred as she gazed at him, her body trembling in his arms. She just wanted to etch each move in her mind, remember it in living color, take each touch and kiss into her soul and capture it there forever. His green eyes sparkled endlessly, and she cringed when she realized they would change by morning, when the realization of the broken relationship became real. Lance grinned, making her cry harder and rocked her in his arms. "I can't make love to you when you're crying," he whispered, kissing her earlobe. "I can't have you sobbing though this." He pulled her back and stroked her hair. "You sure everything is okay?" Olivia pushed her tears back, pushed them somewhere behind her own pain and suffering, way away from JC's offer of a pay off and the future she hoped to find in a world she knew nothing about. And she thought about fate and what a cruel and unusual thing it was. As Lance peeled her clothes from her, she took a deep breath, giving herself to him for this last night. When he was onstage the next night at the VMA's, she planned to be gone. *************************************************************************************************************************************************** Olivia stared at the sleeping figure next to her, at her Lance with the lopsided grin, and the dimple that pressed into his boylike cheeks when he was happy, the dyed blonde hair that was matted down against the pillow and her heart ached. She slipped from the bed and moved around the room quietly. She'd stay until he left for the awards show, since she wasn't allowed in the limo anyway, then go. Her appointment was set for nine am with Elite, and she would never look back. Sleep eluded her, and she shivered, naked in the room. Grabbing Lance's sweatshirt, she pulled it over her head, lifting it to her nose for a sniff. It smelled like him, it was him, warm and toasty, comforting in every way. She would take the sweatshirt with her and never wash it. Olivia padded toward the window and sat contemplating the good times with Lance. "Woman, what are you trying to do?" he laughed deeply as she jumped on Joey's back in a game of touch football. "I'm taking him down," she replied through gritted teeth. Joey grunted under her and spun around attemting to get her off his back. "Sweetie, this is touch football," Lance had reminded her, crossing the yard to pull her from his friend. "Touch means no tackle." Olivia nodded solemly, her big eyes innocent. "I see," she said, biting her lip. "So like this is a foul right?" She took a running leap and jumped into Lance's arms, knocking them both the the grass, covering his lips with summer kisses. "Yeah," he gaped, rubbing his head. "It's a foul." Olivia smiled at the memory. They'd always had good times like that. Until recently. Until JC and his foul mouth and his laws. She watched with jaded eyes as the sun broke through the dawn, smiling down on NYC and it's morning risers. She crept back into bed next to Lance, running her hands down his body, waking him with soft kisses and sweet caresses. One more time she wanted him, once more before the sun reached it's peak and her decision was sealed. They fell asleep immediately after and Olivia let herself rest in his powerful arms. She dreamed of snakes and pits, and modeling over the edge of hell with JC egging her on and Lance floating above her shaking his head. The dream shook her hard and she woke with tears in her eyes. The shower was running and she realized Lance was up. Coffee wafted through the room and she rubbed her face, eyeing the cart filled with danish and flowers and a pot of java. She would miss his thoughtfulness. "Hey you," Lance grinned, stepping from the bathroom, a towel knotted about his waist. He rubbed another towel through his hair, and she smiled as it stood on end. "I got coffee." "I see that," Olivia nodded, hugging her knees to her chest. "Thanks." Lance dug into his luggage, producing a pair of jeans and tee shirt. "About last night, Liv." He dropped his towel to pull on sports briefs. "About you crying. Did I do that to you?" His eyes were sad, upset with the idea he may have caused her any pain at all. He loved her ferociously and while he wasn't thrilled with the modeling thing, he'd stand behind her as she'd done with him all these months. "No, it wasn't that, Lance," she sighed, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I was just upset in general." She hated to lie to him, but the truth would only hurt him, destroy his soul. "I'm fine now," she assured him. "Where you off to?" Lance rolled his eyes, pulling his jeans on. "Publicity. Tons of it. I'm already nervous enough about tonite, but to have all this media crowded around too is driving me nuts." He tugged his shirt on and went to the mirror for a quick squirt of gel. "But I'll be back about four and we'll get ready, okay?" His eyes met hers in the reflection of the glass and he smiled. "You sure you're all right?" Olivia nodded, climbing out of the bed naked and hugging him from behind. "I love you," she whispered, wrapping her arms around him tighter. "I thank God everyday for you. Remember that. Remember that no matter what okay Lance?" He turned in her arms. "Okay, Liv." He didn't like the way she trembled in his embrace. The bang on the door took the moment away from him. "It's the guys," he said, kissing her forehead. "I'll catch you in a few." He grabbed his wallet and headed out the door. From the hallway, Olivia heard laughing and goofing off. She bit back another round of tears as she packed, not wanting to be late for her appointment. Carefully, she tucked Lance's sweatshirt into her bag. He'd have to understand, this was all for him. |