| Lance tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and reached over to click the heat up one more notch. "Damn," he grinned, his green eyes shining. "How much colder does it get in Vermont?" Laughing lightly, he knew no one would answer him, as he was all alone in the SUV. He bopped his head along with the latest release from Ricky Martin, vowing silently to suggest making videos more like his, more daring and well, more mature. The fans would love that, and he thought the group could stand a small make over, following in the VMA performances footsteps. He spotted the lodge sign up ahead, and slowed down, unused to driving in the snow. Actually, he was unused to doing anything in the snow. One thing Mississippi was missing was the white stuff. Sun and water was plentiful there, but no snow. Chuckling, he turned the radio down, and felt the crunch of the old unshoveled snow under the tires as he pulled down the driveway and into a parking spot. Grabbing his cell phone, he cut the engine off, and opened the door. The frigid air assaulted his Southern senses causing him to gasp. His breath formed in front of him, and he pulled his ski jacket tighter around him, zipping it up quickly. "Gloves," he muttered, "Joey warned me." He stuffed his hands in his pockets and hurried for the door. The sun was fading behind the purple mountains, casting a beautiful orange glow across the sky. As Lance dashed for the porch, a snowball clipped him in the side of the head. "What the heck?" He turned to see two small children standing there, giggling apologetically. "It was him," one said, pointing to his brother. "Was not," the other one said, shoving his accuser to the ground. The two children broke out into a mini wrestling match, and Lance laughed. "It's okay," he said, smiling. The air seemed to get colder by the second, and he hopped up onto the porch, swinging open the old screen door. Inside the lodge, a wallsized fireplace hosted a roaring fire, and Lance stared at it, mesmerized. He'd never seen such a large fire before, and the flames jumped as high as he was tall. "Hey there," a soft voice said, causing Lance to turn slowly. An older woman stood behind the counter, a mug of cocoa in her hands. "Cold out there tonight?" Lance rubbed his hands together and nodded. "Yeah. It's crazy." He approached the desk. "You must be Mr. Bass," she said, pulling her glasses on. "Good thing you made it. Weather reports calling for a storm soon." She handed him a registration card to fill out, sipping her drink. Lance eyed the scene outside, wondering if she would make it. He hadn't told anyone she was coming for fear the media would find out and hound him. Truth be told, it was her idea. She chose the lodge, and persuaded him to take a weekend. "Umm, I'm expecting someone," he explained carefully. "No one is supposed to know, but she is on her way." He handed the woman the card, and his credit card. "Do you think she'll have any trouble getting here?" The woman shrugged as she ran his card through the computer. "When's she due?" Lance checked his watch. He hadn't spoken to her since before he left for the airport, and she said she was on her way. "I'm not sure. She's coming from NYC." A couple entered the lodge, laughing and holding hands. He watched them, unable to wait to hold her in his arms for the entire weekend, cuddle with her, and just have some quiet time for themselves. "I hope the storm won't delay her." "Mr. Bass," the woman started. "Please, call me Lance," he grinned, tucking his reciept in pocket. The woman returned his smile. "Okay, Lance. The storm is coming in quickly, from the north. If you have her number, you should call her and let her know." She handed him a room key. "Tell her to hurry on up here. Wouldn't want her to miss spending the weekend with someone who loves her so." Lance blushed. "Am I that obvious?" he asked, shyly. "Been married 40 years," she commented. "I can tell love in a man's eyes. You've got it." She placed her hand over his. "We have room service, should you need it. Champagne is chilling in your room. You call your lucky lady, and tell her you're waiting." "Will do," Lance nodded, heading out to the rented SUV. He stared into the sky and frowned. It was turning an odd shade of grey, almost like the large thunderclouds that pierced the Florida sky pretty much daily. Grabbing his bags, he hauled them back inside, and up the winding oak staircase to their room. He let himself in, and tossed his stuff to the side. "Wow," he whistled lowly, glancing about the room. A old fashioned four post victorian bed sat in the center of the room, a handmade quilt tossed over top of the mattress. A dozen red roses graced one pillow, and the champagne, as promised, was on the nightstand in an ice bucket, two crystal glasses beside it. French doors lead out onto a balcony holding a jacuzzi, with a grand veiw of Vermont's famed green mountains. Lance covered his mouth with his hand, excitement coursing through his body. His first get away with her, actually, his first real get away with any girl. A lovely faux bear skin rug held it's place in front of a marble fireplace, a warm fire already glowing in it. He peeled off his ski jacket, throwing it carelessly on the bed, and bent down to poke at the embers. The orangy red flames licked at the logs, crackling loudly, catching Lance's gaze. He was entranced by it, warming his hands near them. A loud ring interuppted his stare, and he jumped up, rushing to his jacket and pulling the cell phone from his pocket. "Hello?" he asked. "Baby, it's me," a small voice broke up on the other end. "Sweetie, it started snowing really heavy. I don't know if I can make it." Lance's heart fell. "How far away are you?" He tried to keep his emotions in check, wanting to see her so desperately it hurt. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling it sink a bit under his weight. "The gas station attendant said it's about another hour to the lodge, but it's coming down really thick." She paused and he could hear the disappointment in her silence. "I'm pulled over right now, waiting. What's it doing there?" Lance stood up, and crossed the room. He pulled the curtains back from the French doors and stared into the dusk. "Nothing. It's grey, but no snow. Maybe I should come get you." He didn't want her to risk her saftey by attemping to drive in the mess she described, but he wanted to see her so badly, he would risk going to get her. "No, no use in both of us getting stuck. I'm going to make a go of it. I'll go slowly, but don't panic if it takes me a few more hours okay?" She cleared her throat and sighed. "Is it nice?" Lance crept back in front of the fire, plopping himself down on the soft rug, imagining her there with him, her face basking in the glow of the flames, touching her, holding her. It had been so long since he'd seen her. "It is," he whispered. "You did good." Her laugh floated across the line, making him feel better. "That's cool. Don't have too much fun without me, baby." Lance snorted. "Yeah, like what? I'm sitting in front of a roaring fire, dreaming of you, lonely and cold. I'm not having fun." He picked at the fur beneath him, and returned his gaze to the dancing flames. "I miss you," he admitted quietly. "Really miss you." "I know, same here. It's been too long. Why do we wait so damn long to hook up?" "Angel, if I knew, I'd tell you. We're idiots. Anyway, keep your phone on, and call me okay? I'm in room 4." "Alright, I will. I love you." "I love you too. Be careful." "Naturally," she said easily, listening for his goodbye. "Lance?" "Yeah?" he murmered, not wanting to let her go. "Say good bye." "Never. Not good bye. See ya later." He could hear her grin, and it made him smile. She was always good with his silly superstisions, and humoured him endlessly. "See ya later," she whispered, making a loud kissing noise. "And you best be naked when I get there!" Lance laughed, caught off guard by that comment. Nevertheless, he blushed at the thought, and sighed. "Be careful." "You said that already," she reminded him. "Don't drink the champagne without me okay?" "I won't. I know what it does to you," he raised his eyebrow, remembering the loving he'd gotten last time they shared a bottle. His cheeks flushed at the image. "Bad boy," she scolded lightly. "Okay, well then, I know you'll wait for me. Look, baby, I want to focus on the road now, so I'm going to go. Love you." "You too." He heard the small click and sighed, chewing on his lip nervously. He hoped she made it okay, and soon. Early evening settled upon the lodge, and Lance was feeling restless. He turned on the small rose glass lamp next to the bed, lighting the room subtly, and stepped into the bathroom. Stripping his clothes off, he started the shower and climbed under the spray. This would be so much better if she was here with me. God, I miss her. Gotta see her more, no matter what. His thoughts wandered to the past year of having her in his life. There wasn't a day that went by that he didn't thank the Lord for bringing her to him, a chance meeting really, a sign of fate, she claimed. It was the previous November, and he had been consumed with the lawsuit, ah the infamous lawsuit. It was his turn to appear in court, and his nerves had been shot to hell, causing him to throw up at least twice. His mother attended with him, for support, even though his group members would be there as well. He was led into a small room, confronted with the knowlege he would need to testify in front of all those faces. He listened as thier lawyer droned on and on, reminding him of what and how to answer questions. He felt the stare of his four friends counting on him to relive that horrible May incident. He felt his throat tighten, and his chest grow heavy, making him bolt from the room, down the historic halls of the court building, and out to the street. He ran and ran, down the steps, past the press, and into the street. His stomach rolled, threatening to expel more of it's contents, and he doubled over at the feeling. A loud horn blasted in his ears, and he blinked, seeing a taxi heading for him. Frozen with fear, he just stood there until a pair of hands grabbed his suit jacket, shoving him roughly to the sidewalk with a grunt. He fell onto the concrete, shaking, and looked up. There she was, staring back at him, a horrified look on her angelic face, hair tousled and clothes dirty from tumbling to the ground with him. He gazed at her, speachless. "Are you suicidal?" she asked him directly, annoyance and fright laced her question. He merely shook his head, and then his mother, JC, Joey, Justin and Chris were there, pulling him to his feet while the media captured every dramatic moment. Joey was busy shoving them away, Chris was embroiled in a war of words with a camera crew, his mother was biting back tears and fussing over him, while JC and Justin were escorting him back across the street, leaving her standing there in shock. "Hey!" she yelled, causing him to turn slowly. "I just saved your life and you don't have anything to say to me? How rude!" He pulled away from everyone and leaned back in her direction, not fully comprehending what had just happened. He focused his stare into her brown eyes, and took a deep breath. She moved closer to him, brushing a piece of dirt from his cheek, and he grabbed her in a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear. "Thank you so much, you have no idea." She followed him back to the courthouse, and that had been that. Smitten with one another, she stuck by him throughout the entire mess, was with him while they rerecorded parts of NSA, hung out with him during media duties, and then the tour started. She went back to her job as a production assistant in NYC, her extended vacation over, and he went on tour, keeping in touch by e-mail, letters, and phone calls. They had only seen one another a handful of times since the explosion of the album, and it took it's toll on them both. Love was love though, and they knew that when this crazy N Sync ride was over, they would still be. Lance's shower had been over hours ago. He had been down stairs to the homemade dining area and eaten, even stayed in the lobby and chatted with some guests. It was nearing ten pm, and he was getting worried, having called her cell phone dozens of time and getting no answer. The snow had started it's assault on the lodge, and already they were three inches under. His nerves were shot, and the innkeeper felt badly, feeding him hot cocoa and trying to keep his mind off her. "She'll be okay. It just takes time," she stated, showing him a map of the area. "This here is where she most likely is. If the plows haven't gotten there yet, she's probably going slow. It's a very turny road." Lance stared blanky at the map, debating if he should take off and go get her. "It's been four hours," he fretted. "Something isn't right. I have to go get her." He took off up the stairs, his body dizzy with fear for her. The woman called for her husband. "Talk to him," she requested. "He's a wreck over his girlfriend and wants to go out in this mess to get her." Her husband waited in the lobby for Lance to come down with his jacket and keys. "Son, you can't go out there. You don't know the roads, and they're dangerous, even for someone with as much experience as me. You'll never make it." He held Lance's shoulder firmly. "Let me call the local police and put the word out. They'll keep their eye out for your girl." "I can't just sit here," he cried, desperation and panic filling his voice. "She's in trouble. I know it." He pounced out onto the porch and stared out into the now blizzard like wall of snow. The man was right with him, tugging him gently back inside. "Now, come on. You think you're going to do her any good going out and getting hurt yourself? Come in." He was sympathetic, but firm. "Lance, come on son." Lance reluctantly headed back inside, slumping down into the country couch, shaking his head. "Call the police, please." The man nodded and hurried off, making a series of calls. Lance pulled out his cell once more, and dialed her number. Nothing. He dialed Justin, knowing he was on a weekend with his lady as well, only they had chosen the warmth of the Bahamas. He listened as the call was patched and Justin's voice answered, breathlessly. "Yeah?" he asked. "J, man, it's me. You got a minute." Lance was close to tears, and needed a friendly voice to reassure him. Being all alone with strangers, however nice they were, was uncomfortable. They didn't understand how much she meant to him. To them, she was just a name, nothing more. They didn't know how gentle she was to children and animals, how she twirled her hair when she was tired, or how her eyes lit up when she did something that she was proud of. They had no idea how she smelled when she got out of the shower, or how her lips curled when she was telling a joke, or how much she loved whipped cream in her hot cocoa. He choked back a small sob when he heard Justin on the other end. Justin knew her, Justin loved her like a sister. "What's wrong?" Justin knew that Lance would never bother him this weekend unless something was wrong, really wrong. He disentangled himself from his lover and sat up in bed, listening. "Lance, you're freaking me out. Speak!" Lance sighed, trying to compose himself. "Uh, she's not here yet. There's a huge storm, and her cell, she isn't picking up. They've called the cops to look for her. It's umm, I just know..." his voice trailed off, unable to continue. "Man, I'm sure she's fine. Maybe she stopped off somewhere for a break. You know how it is in the snow." Justin rubbed his hand over his face, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. He himself felt something was wrong too, but didn't want Lance to hear it in his voice. "No! I have no idea what it's like in the snow!" he snapped. "I'm from fucking Mississippi." He paused, sorry that he yelled at his friend. "Dude, I'm so sorry. I'm just freaking out here. I just want her to be okay." "Let's say a prayer, man. It's okay. Let's just ask God to bring her to you safely." Lance couldn't speak, he was so overcome with emotion that Justin knew exactly what he needed and together they said a small prayer. By the time Justin let Lance hang up, there was a flurry of activity in the lobby. Everyone had heard about his missing girlfriend, and had come down to assist in any way they could. He was besieged by well wishers, more hot cocoa being pushed at him, a warm blanket covering him, offers to play card games to get his mind off it. It was all too much for him, and he jumped up, running to the peacefulness of him room. Only there did he truly contemplate the horrific possibility that she could be in danger, hurt, or worse. Tears stung his eyes, and he noticed the fire was dying. He approached it, and collapsed to his knees in front of it, adding a log, not wanting it to be cold for her arrival. He sniffled and closed his eyes, trying to recall her smell. She wore Victoria, and he leaned back, a tear escaping his eye. He tried to conjure up the last time he'd held her, and buried his head in her soft brown hair. When was it? He pressed his eyes tighter, and clenched his jaw. It had been over a month, in New Jersey he thought. She had taken a few days off and spent them with him, laughing and fooling around. Nothing heavy, just a good time. Lance could actually smell her perfume, and grinned, amazed at the power of the mind. If anything happened to her, he couldn't forgive himself. It would be his fault for not carving out more time for her, for agreeing to come to this wintery hell. He gupled hard, and forced the negative thoughts from his head. The fire was warming slightly, and a drop of something wet landed on his lips. His eyes flew open and he saw her, standing over him, champagne glass in hand, dripping the liquid onto him playfully. Lance jumped up, overcome with relief, grabbing her into a tight hug. "Geesh," she gasped. "Honey, let go. You're squeezing me to death." He pulled back a bit, and held her face in his hands, kissing her without saying a word, his lips insistant and firm on hers. Finally, he let go of her a bit. "I thought..." "I know what you thought," she murmered. "I talked to the crowd downstairs. They actually applauded when I came in." She kissed the tip of his nose. "Embarrassing!" she complained lightly, pulling her ski cap from her head and tossing it at him. Lance shook the terror from him and hugged her once more. "Hey," she cried, pulling away. "You're not naked. You promised me!" Tugging at his shirt, she noticed how he trembled under her touch. "Baby, you're really freaked out." He nodded, staring at her in the shadows of the fire. "I was scared to death you were hurt. I called Justin and everything." She took his hands in hers and lead him to the bed, handing him a rose. "I'm okay, I'm here now. It was a rough ride, and my cell phone died." She gazed into his green eyes, still watery. "I'm here, touch me. I'm real." Lance's eyes fell over her, a puppy dog look on his face. "I love you very much," he stated, brushing his lips gently along her forehead. "But I am never, and I mean never, going anywhere near snow again." She bit back a giggle. "Aww, and I was gonna suggest sex in the snow." Laying back on the bed, she reached for him. "Come here, southern boy. Let's make up for lost time." Lance smiled, and leaned over her, melting into her body, ready to spend a relaxed weekend with his love, thankful that she was here, and safe, and in his arms. |
| SCARED by destiny |