Home Bound (18+)

Prologue/Teaser/Whatever (Revised)

A/N:

If there is one annoying flaw of mine as a writer that is I change my mind a lot of times. I tend to be distracted with too many ideas that I lose the whole picture of my plot. This story is one hell of a perfect example for that. I deeply apologize but this won't be the last. If you're not into that then feel free to press the "back" button. If you're there and willing to take a risk to read of  what I love to write then I thank you and hope you'll enjoy it. And be hot and bothered. Lol. *winks*
-Burns

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2 years ago

He was lost.

He knew just by the look of those baby-blue eyes that he was in deep trouble. Though he roughly admitted that he was more into green-eyed redheads, he Lance Jefferson was completely drawn to her.

Her eyes held so much promises that a man like him craved. At twenty-eight, those eyes with hints of perfect sunday dates, picnic on tuesdays, and hot nights on fridays were the absolute idea of heaven. What else a man could hope for more than that?

Lance shifted on his feet and found a perfect spot to have a complete view of this blue-eyed beauty. With his other hand holding a flute of champagne, Lance raised the other to readjust his thick lenses.

She was laughing at something someone said. Unlike anybody, she wasn't holding any alcoholic beverage. She only held a tiny stem of fan that, in his opinion, didn't make sense by the chill that surrounded around the room. By the way she waved it and tapped it on her elbow or palm, she looked as if she was using the fan as a disguise for a weapon.

As a journalist, he learned how to read body language. The meaning of a side-way glance. A smile. A flutter of the eyes. A slight lean of body.

It was infuriating, Lance realized, that he can't stop himself analyzing someone's character with his keen eyes. It was like invading someone's privacy and defenses.

The space around her got crowded again as if she built a snare that everybody seemed to be drawn into. He wasn't surprised, mind you, for he was drawn as well willingly and hopelessly. However, in his annoyance, majority of her admirers were male. Which, he was more surprised than joyful, didn't suit him well.

If he was like some hero in a movie or in a novel. Or like some kind of a prince or warrior, Lance would've swept her off her feet and take her home to seduce her.

He absently laughed a self-deprecating laugh as how his imagination went. Who knew that a man in his almost thirties was still in a habit of thinking fairytale.

Besides, he was just Lance Jefferson. A journalist who in a couple of days will be jobless.

Clouded with self-pity, Lance didn't notice a momentary glance at his way. If he wasn't mistaken, that brief stare came from a pair of blue eyes. Inquisitive, dangerous baby-blue eyes.

Just the time he would decide that he was daft to assume the woman he wanted was looking at her, she stole another glance to him. This time, he could see the heat in her eyes. He saw it once again. He fvcking saw it and he would kill anybody who would say otherwise.

She was looking at him. At him! At Just Lance Jefferson.

He couldn't believe it and looked behind him to crush the hope lingering inside him that maybe, just maybe, no one was there. He silently thanked whichever entity that explains his luck right now when he looked behind him and only stared a chunk of huge white statue of a half-naked mermaid.

He returned his gaze back to those blue eyes and asked her with his brown ones.

Are you looking at me?