Chapter Two
They had only left port a few hours ago,
and already Lance was bored. He hated being in this grumpy mood he’d been
in the last few months. He wished he could be his normal self, but lately
he hadn’t been able to pull it off. He knew how lucky he was. With this music
opportunity and getting to share it with his four best friends, he thought
it would be enough.
But it wasn’t. Not by a long shot.
At age 20, Lance had the picture
perfect life. Or so it seemed. On the outside, everyone around him thought
that he had everything he ever wanted. Except for love. That seemed to be
the one thing that he could never find.
Wearing his denim jeans and designer
shirt, Lance stepped onto the poop deck, which was located on the back of
the ship. He wasn’t willing to jump, he knew. Not when his friends were counting
on him. Why did he think he had nothing in the world when he had almost everything?
The deck didn’t have any visitors
right now, so it was nice and quiet. He walked to the edge railing and looked
over at the sunset making it’s appearance. It was a beautiful day, and the
wind was blowing peacefully.
A younger looking girl with long
blond hair and ratty looking clothes, was leaning over the edge just a few
feet away from him. He hoped she didn’t plan on jumping. He wasn’t all keen
on watching that sort of thing right now.
How can she stand to wear stuff
like that? She mustn’t be very well off.
But the girl was humming to herself,
Lance realized. It wasn’t a familiar song, he realized, once he’d heard about
a minute of it.
He didn’t know if he should introduce
himself or not. She seemed like the silent type. Maybe she didn’t even know
he was there. Maybe she was pretending he didn’t exist. Or maybe she was
just too absorbed in the song that she was humming, or maybe she just didn’t
like to talk.
Or maybe she just didn’t see him.
That just wasn’t likely, he decided.
Everyone noticed him. Back home in Florida, he was what people would call
in the future, a chick magnet.
He wasn’t conceited or anything,
he just was so used to all the girls hanging over him that when this girl
wasn’t, he wondered what it was all about. Maybe she was British or something.
“You know,” she said, speaking for
the first time, “if you keep staring at me like that, I might just actually
jump.”
She was smiling, he realized. Okay,
so maybe she could see him.
“I was just contemplating whether
or not I should introduce myself,” he said after a minute.
With the wind blowing at her hair,
she tucked a lock of hair behind her ears. When he didn’t say anything else,
she looked back out at the water.
“Well?” she said.
He glanced over at her with an amused
look on his face. “Well what?”
“Are you going to introduce yourself
or not?”
“Maybe.” Lance grinned. “Only if
you tell me who you are, too.”
“Why should I?” she challenged, her
face expression never faltering.
“It would be the right thing to do,”
he explained. “Don’t you agree?”
She contemplated that thought for
a moment, then shrugged her shoulders. “I guess so. But you have to go first.”
She looked over the mysterious man’s appearance. With spiked blonde hair
and that expensive looking clothing, she decided he was from first class.
What the heck was he doing down on the poop deck?
“Lance.” He stuck out his hand for
her to shake. “Lance Bass.”
Cautiously, she took her hand from
behind her back and shook his hand with hands that were shaking from the
cold air. “Hannah,” she said quietly. “Hannah Jobane.”
“Hannah.” He smiled slowly. He never
met a Hannah before. Well, he thought. There’s a first time for everything.
“That’s a lovely name.”
“Thanks.” She looked his clothing
over again. “What’s a first class man doing on this side of the ship?” She
looked at his expensive watch on his left hand, then glanced at the gold
chain around his neck. “Shouldn’t you be up having a brandy in the smoking
room or something?”
She wasn’t sure if they actually
did that in the smoking room, but she had heard the stories.
“No, I don’t drink.”
“Playing squash?”
Lance chuckled. “I’m not very good
at things like that.”
“I’m sure you could learn, if you
really wanted to,” she said.
When Hannah was twelve, she had learned
all the “important” sports from her father, who had been an instructor for
many different sports. He had made sure that his little girl was athletic
and built.
“No.” He laughed. “Sorry, but I don’t
think so.”
“Reading a book in the library?”
she offered. She heard second class had a fantastic library. How she wished
she could go there!
When she saw the amused look on Lance’s
face, she realized that reading wasn’t his thing, either.
“So nothing interesting to do, so
you decided to come see how the other half lives?” she said.
Well, there’s a new angle. “Not exactly,”
he said. “My friends are all in the smoking room. So I decided to take a
walk. I’ve already been on the boat deck, so this was my next stop.”
“I’d like to check out the engine
rooms,” Hannah admitted. “I always wondered what one looked like.”
“That’s not so crazy.” Lance looked
her over again, and admitted that she would be gorgeous if she wasn’t covered
in all that cloth.
Hannah turned back to look out at
the water as the Titanic glided slowly along the water. She wasn’t certain,
but she swore he was still watching her. What interested this guy so much
that he started a conversation with her? There were millions of pretty,
single, rich girls up in first class.
“Would you like to go up and take
a walk on the boat deck?” Lance asked her.
She turned abruptly and faced him
again. “Why?”
“Why what?” He watched her eyes turn
darker. “Just thought you would like to go and see the boat deck.”
“Look,” she muttered, “I know you’re
trying to be nice, but you don’t have to be. I know you’re just trying to
be nice because you know I’m poor.”
Hannah was sick and tired of being
given charity. A few minutes before Lance had made his presence known, she
had realized that Marie had given her the ticket out of charity. Marie never
intended to go to New York.
“Hey,” Lance said, taking a step
back. “This has nothing to do with the fact that you’re poor.” He paused,
realizing how cold that must have sounded. “I’m just asking if you wanted
to take a walk with me, that’s all.”
Ah, damn. She was a sassy little
thing. Sassy, but cute in her own little way, he thought.
“I don’t think so.” Hannah turned
back around.
The last thing she heard him say
was I soft, “damn,” then he was gone, back inside the doors, and back up
to where he belonged…far away from her.
“So she just totally blew you off?”
Chris was having a good laugh, Lance
thought. He had just finished telling Chris about how Hannah had refused
his offer for a walk on the boat deck.
“It isn’t that funny.” He glared
at Chris. “Man, stop laughing! It’s not funny.”
Chris managed to stop his laughter,
but it still found it hilarious. Lance, considered the most desirable bachelor
in Florida, had actually been turned down. Who would have thought?
“So was she hot?” Justin asked, walking
into the lounge, where they were all meeting for dinner. Lance and Chris
had met up a few minutes ago on B deck, and walked down together.
“Was who hot?” Lance asked.
“The girl that refused to hang out
with you,” Joey said, trying to keep a straight face.
Lance glared at Chris. “I didn’t
say anything!” Chris said in defense.
“He didn’t,” Justin assured him.
“We saw you talking to some girl on the deck, but we couldn’t see her.”
Joey finally gave in to his laughter,
while chewing on a piece of bread as dinner was being served. “You know,
if only the people back in Florida could see you now.”
Lance glared at him. He picked at
his plate, and realized he wasn’t hungry, so he pushed the plate away. “She
just thought I was offering her charity. I kinda did feel sorry for her.”
“Why?” JC asked. He hadn’t said much
all day. In the smoking room, he had played a few hands of blackjack with
an old guy from Minnesota. And he had managed to only lose fifty dollars.
“She’s from third class,” Lance explained.
“But she’s got something about her…She’s very outspoken. Likes to say what’s
on her mind.”
“I thought you said you weren’t looking
for love?” Joey said, once he’d finished eating.
“I’m not,” Lance murmured. “There’s
just something about her.”