Chapter Four:

Lance

When I'd gotten back from work, I'd collapsed on my bed and slept for at least ten hours. I woulda slept in more, but someone broke down my door.

My head jerked upwards. I couldn't think of what to do, since I'd gotten so used to not having any powers. By the time I could think, a hand was clasped over my mouth.

"Please be quiet!" someone begged. "Please! Just for a second!"

I was struggling a little, but I think "please" was, indeed, the magic word. I heard some people stampede outside, but they didn't come into my apartment. From the sound of it, they were squealing fangirls.

When the sounds faded, the guy gently released me. I used that as my chance. I hit him in the sternum with my right elbow and swung around, bringing my right fist into the left side of his ribs.

Momentarily stunned, he gasped. I thought I may have hit him too hard, but then decided it was only his ego.

When he looked up at me, being poised and ready to give him a major ass-kicking for breaking-and-entering, I felt like kicking him in the face.

It was the same guy I'd bumped into when I was going to work!

Did he follow me? And what was with those damned fangirls?

"Who are you?" I asked, my tone demanding.

"As soon… as I can breathe… I'll tell you!" he wheezed. "Damn! That… hurt!"

"I hope it did! You don't just break-and-enter!" I jabbed his chest with my finger. "Did you follow me?"

He got his breath back. "N-No! I didn't!" He held his hands up, trying not to appear hostile. "I'm sorry for barging in, but I was being attacked by crazy people!"

"Why?"

"Let's just say they really like me, and leave it at that, okay?" I frowned, but nodded. He sighed in relief. "I'm really sorry. My name's Lance Grey." He held out a hand.

I glared at his hand, but took it and shook it. "Joan."

"Just Joan?"

"Just Joan to you."

He shrugged, taking back his hand. "That's fair." Lance smiled sheepishly. "Um… How can I properly apologize to you?"

"You can start by getting the hell outta my room!" I snapped, shoving him outside my room. "And then get your ass outta my apartment!"

"W-Wait a sec!" he pleaded, turning around suddenly.

I had been pushing on him, and with his sudden change in position, I fell into him, my arms extending by his sides and my face planted into his chest… again.

I couldn't tell if my face was on fire or not, but it sure felt like it. For several seconds, we just stood there, totally stunned. And then I lurched backwards, at least three metres from him.

A few more seconds of awkward silence later, Lance cleared his throat. "I'll, um… I'll leave if you want me to… But I kinda wanna apologize appropriately for breaking-in…"

"What idea do you have?" I asked. I just wanted him out, but I sure as hell didn't want to use my fire for something as stupid as this.

"Dinner?" he asked suddenly.

Why is my face burning? It's not even on fire, for God sakes! "Why?"

"It's not often I get to take a girl who doesn't know everything about me out."

"So breaking-and-entering is more often than that?"

One of Lance's eyebrows rose. "You don't like me very much, do you?"

"Not at all."

He rubbed the back of his head. "One dinner. I'm paying. Tomorrow night?"

I very, very, very, very, very, very hesitantly answered. "… Okay."

"Great!" He gave me a thumbs-up. "I'll pick you up at eight!"

He left then, and I smashed my head against the wall. What the hell did I just agree too? Ugh! Persistent bastard!

"What, you don't enjoy the food?" Lance asked over his spaghetti.

I love the food! It's just you I hate! I thought, glaring at him. I think the people around us were starting to feel uncomfortable with all the "hate" vibes I was giving off.

"It's fine," I replied sourly. "I just think it's odd that I got food with a guy who broke into my house and could've potentially assaulted me."

"You're still on about that?" Lance smiled, something that was really starting annoy me. "You really can't let things go, can you?"

"It was seven hours ago!" I hissed. "It's not like it's ancient history!"

He shrugged. "I said I was sorry. And I'm trying to make up for it. You can really get pissed when you want to, you know that?"

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is; when I had a hand over your mouth, I thought I could feel it burning and I smelt smoke, but I realized that the smoke was probably someone's fire and the heat on my hand was your face, which was pretty red." He poked my head. "About as red as your hair."

I think I was pouting at this point. "I don't see how that's relevant to anything." I sighed, crossing my arms and resting them on the table. "So, why exactly were those girls chasing you? And why are you wearing a hat and those shades? I can't even have a proper conversation without getting distracted by them."

"I'm actually surprised," Lance said, grinning. "I even introduced myself to you, and you don't know who the hell I am. Most girls would be flattered to have dinner with me."

"Well, I'm not most girls. Far from it, in fact. Now spill."

"Okay." He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. "I'm the musician Lance Grey, and I'm told that I'm pretty popular these days. I came to New Marias to escape all the crazy fans." He smiled. "But I guess they caught up with me."

"Or you have other 'fans'."

He tilted his head. "What's with that look?"

I chuckled. "Funny that I've never heard of you."

"Well, if you listened to the radio, you would have."

"That's just it; I don't listen to the radio. I hate all of the channels."

"Really?" He leaned forward in interest. "Then what'dya listen to?"

"None of your business, Grey."

"That's cold."

I'd prefer that you'd been burned, but I can't exactly correct you without a reason… "Whatever. Are you done?"

He glanced at his spaghetti. "No…" Lance looked at my plate. "Wow! You ate it all!"

"That means I'm waitin' on you, so hurry it up, please."