Title: A Series Of Observations
Author: furygrrl
Archive: Just ask first
Rating: T - rated for language and hints of sexuality
Disclaimer: Not mine
Part Four: Across a Crowded Room
Jean expertly twisted her thick red hair into a neat chignon, and secured it just above the curve of her neck with several black enameled pins. With that accomplished, she took a step back from the mirror and looked over the results with a critical eye.
She had changed out of the jeans and sweatshirt she'd arrived in, trading them for a pair of slim fitting black pants and an elegantly cut, spaghetti-strapped black tank made of layered chiffon. Both garments hugged her tightly, their tailored lines showing off the graceful curves of her athletic body to their best advantage, while the solid non-colour served to heighten the pearlescence of her alabaster skin until it fairly glowed.
Jean gave her reflection a smile of satisfaction before stepping into a pair of black heels that left her dark red toenails exposed, and exited the room that Duncan had reluctantly put aside for her use during their stay.
Some nerve, she thought, momentarily irked again as the door clicked shut. Thinking that just because I'm spending the weekend we'd be sharing the same bed. In his dreams!
Descending the stairs to the main floor, her senses were immediately assaulted by the party's full force: raised voices, the heavy beat of music, and clouds of cigarette smoke that occasionally carried the earthy, cloying smell of drifting pot fumes. Wrinkling her nose in distaste, Jean made her way through the crowds, searching for space to breathe while pausing to exchange greetings with students who called out to her.
After a few minutes, she finally came to the edge of the massive sunken living room where the majority of people had gathered to dance and mingle. Her green eyes shifted from person to person, intent on finding the party's host, only to land on a sight she hadn't expected to see.
Leaning against the far wall, arms folded against his chest, was the brooding form of Lance Alvers.
To the casual observer, he seemed to be calmly surveying the wild scene, his features schooled to neutrality, one foot absently keeping the tempo of the song currently blaring – the epitome of rebel cool.
Jean, however, could instantly see that he was ill at ease. His body language was stiff, his jaw was clenched, and, if the anxious way his gaze kept darting from one end of the room to the other was any indication, he was searching for someone.
Maybe one of his Brotherhood friends? She mused, her eyes roaming over his agitated face unthinkingly.
It wasn't until Lance's dark eyes happened to flicker her way that she realized, and not with some small measure of unsettlement, that she'd been staring at him a little longer than was necessary.
Thankfully, Lance didn't seem to notice the extended appraisal or the girl who'd been conducting it. He actually disregarded her at first glance, his attention moving on to the next cluster of people without bothering to pause, until belated recognition flashed across his face. His eyes swung back to her, and Jean watched them grow wide, either in surprise at seeing her look so different from her everyday self, or perhaps with anxiety at having been spotted by one of the 'enemy'. Whatever the reason, an instant flush began crawling under her skin, a prickling heat that only intensified when his gaze continued to linger.
Not sure how she should respond to his penetrating, unreadable stare, she finally offered him a simple nod of acknowledgement, a hesitant smile breaking across her face as she did so. Her gesture seemed to take the lanky youth aback for a moment, his tapping foot missing a beat before stopping completely, as if her wordless greeting was the last thing he expected.
And then, he returned the favour.
Without breaking eye contact, Lance tipped his dark head forward slowly, a tentative smile crossing his formerly impassive lips, that ever-so-slight curving of his mouth transforming his usually hardened face into something softer, warmer, and, most shocking of all, darkly handsome. It was in realizing that she was seeing him as that – as physically attractive – that brought Jean up short. Her breath caught sharply in her throat, and a swell of warmth spiraled up from the pit of her stomach, adding to the heat of the blush already staining her pale face, announcing her embarrassment to anyone who chose to look for it.
Shaken and flustered, she turned towards a gyrating gaggle of half-dressed girls in an effort to hide her obvious discomfiture, waiting for her pulse to stop racing and the colour in her cheeks to cool. When they had, Jean peered around the students that had hidden her from view, only to find that Lance had moved on, his vacated spot already claimed by a couple playing vicious tonsil hockey.
Exhaling slowly, Jean shook her head in confusion before remembering what her original intent had been. She honed in on the nearest football player and grabbed his sleeve.
"Hey Mike, have you seen Duncan?" she queried, having to yell to be heard over the music.
"Yeah, out back!" the boy hollered before returning to his interrupted conversation.
Jean patted his arm in thanks, and began to weave her way through the crowd, now aiming for the open doors that lead to rear wrap-around deck, all the while contemplating her body's intense reaction to something as simple as Lance's smile.
Lance hastily twisted the cap off of the bottle of beer he'd lifted from one of the kitchen's many coolers, and took a healthy swig of the icy liquid, feeling instantly relieved as it coursed down his throat. His thirst sated for the time being, he continued to prowl the lake house for his elusive prey.
He'd been searching for the better part of twenty minutes, had been in almost every room, down every corridor, all around the entire building itself, but still hadn't come across Kitty.
His hand tightened around the moisture-beaded bottle he held in irritation, a tremble of power rising in the pit of his stomach as it did whenever his emotions flared, almost on the verge of manifesting. With effort, he pushed the sensation away and reined in his temper. Neither would do him any good if they were unleashed.
Just keep looking... he told himself resolutely, feet already in motion.
Lance knew that she was around somewhere – that Arcade guy he'd cornered for information had said as much, and he'd heard some girl named Amanda squealing excitedly to her friends about having seen 'that sexy Kurt Wagner from math class'.
He took another gulp of beer, hoping to wash away the disgust that surged at the thought of anyone finding Nightcrawler sexy.
"It's enough to make a guy sick," Lance murmured to himself as he checked the line outside the bathroom for brunettes. Not spying any that were Kitty, he sighed and decided to try out front, once again feeling like kicking himself for letting his best shot at locating his missing ex-girl slip right through his fingers.
I should have just gone up to Jean and asked her...she probably would have known...
As his inner voice continued to berate him, Lance found his thoughts going back to his meeting with the telepath, and how he'd caught her staring at him just like he had earlier that week. At first it had startled him, finding that he was once again the target for the redhead's scrutiny. But then, when she'd smiled at him, surprise had melted into some other feeling he couldn't define.
He still had no clear answer as to why he'd smiled back, or why his pulse had sped up sight of her, firmly attributing his reactions to reflex rather than delve any deeper into the episode – he was distracted enough as it was.
But even still, you have to admit she looks pretty amazing tonight... a niggling voice whispered from the back of his mind, recalling an image of the smartly-dressed girl to flash behind his eyes.
A jerk like Duncan doesn't deserve any chick that hot...
Lance shook his head to clear his train of thought, reminding himself that he didn't care who Miss Popularity chose to shack up with, and promptly bumped into several giggling girls.
"Oh, sorry," he mumbled absently, waving a hand at them in apology before recognizing one of their number. "Hey, aren't you in the same chemistry class with me and Kitty Pryde?" he demanded of a slender blonde girl with large blue eyes.
The girl nodded shyly, face going a little pink when her friends started nudging her teasingly.
"Have you seen her tonight? Kitty, I mean," Lance continued, praying for a lucky break.
"Um...yeah. She was just here, actually," the blonde replied, nervously taking a sip from the open wine cooler she held.
Lance swallowed his impatience and instead gave the blushing girl a forced smile. "Did she happen to say where she was going?" he asked.
Rendered speechless by the handsome boy's attention, the girl was reduced to simply pointing to a pathway that led to the rear of the building, cheeks now a full-blown crimson. Lance didn't even notice his effect on her as he muttered his thanks, too intent on finding Kitty before she disappeared again, and strode down the stone walkway that wound through the trees.
Surprisingly, he found the path devoid of partygoers who, he assumed, preferred to remain close to where the action was, rather than risk stumbling about on the darkened outdoor avenues.
Suits me just fine, Lance thought, realizing that if he happened to come across Kitty in the middle of nowhere, he'd be able to talk to her without an audience.
Maybe she'll even be alone... echoed gleefully inside his skull, the shadows around him thickening until the darkness became almost absolute. Not that I'd expect her freak of a lapdog to be far from –
Lance came to a sudden standstill, his inner voice instantly quieting, as soft sounds filtered through the trees furthest from the house. Holding his breath, he waited for the noises to come again, wanting to make sure it wasn't just some nocturnal bird, or his imagination, before going to investigate.
There it is again! He thought triumphantly, now able to discern the hushed voice of someone speaking quietly nearby.
Honing in on where the voice seemed to be coming from, Lance silently slipped from the safety of the path and into the damp underbrush of the forest, the moist bedding of leaves serving to muffle his steps. He continued to strain his senses, listening intently for further sounds, until he noticed movement a few feet away.
Steeling himself, he angled his approach towards the indistinct figure, encouraged by a gut feeling telling him that his search was almost at an end.
He couldn't have been more right.