Part 10: The It Girl Busts a Move
Finishing their long procession down the gala's red carpet, Chloe and Oliver entered the Metropolis Grand's hotel lobby with gasps of thorough relief.
"I see spots," she muttered sullenly as Oliver led her to the massive, sweeping staircase that opened up to the building's immense ballroom. "Big, splotchy, purpley-reddish, floating, blurry spots."
"Tell me about it," he agreed, squeezing his eyes shut and popping them back open a few times, his head shaking until his vision cleared. "That," he announced, pointing back at the press scrum they'd just survived, "was insane."
"Well, I warned you," Chloe quipped, fishing her hand into her gauzy skirt to tuck up the front as they began ascending the stairs. "Hanging out with me is gonna get you noticed. My celebrity status guarantees it."
"So true," Oliver laughed. "Everywhere I go its Chloe Sullivan this, Chloe Sullivan that… it's a real burden living in your shadow."
"Not everyone can handle it," she mused just as her heel caught up in the crinoline lining her skirt. Though her stumble wasn't enough to cause a full-fledged trip, it served as a reminder that the garment she was wearing took some serious work.
"Hey, gear down a bit Daddy Long Legs," she muttered as she tugged at him. "The manual this thing came with specifically said it can't take stairs two at a time."
"Noted," he smirked as his pace relaxed and he tucked her arm more securely into the crook of his elbow, ready to make good on his promise to catch her if needed.
When they arrived at the landing without incident, she sighed gratefully and released the dual death grips she had on both the dress and Oliver; comforted by the knowledge that all flooring from here on out was flat and smooth. Entering the ballroom, she felt her breath dispel in slow appreciation as she marvelled at the beauty of the space she now stood in.
Everything was softly lit in light blues, purples and pinks; the colours bouncing strikingly off yards of draped, white silk that hung from all the way up in the vaulted ceiling. A huge band of musicians wearing matching white tuxedo jackets were stationed on the stage, playing whispery music that floated from their instruments and drifted about in perfect harmony with the chatter of the guests and the clinking of crystal champagne glasses. Everywhere she turned, exquisite floral arrangements burst forward – each one a more impressive work of art than the last – their subtle perfumes wafting up around her to dazzle her senses as she breathed them in.
Feeling eyes upon her, she turned to find Oliver looking down at her with a grin, taking in the sight of her taking in the décor.
"Not bad," she shrugged nonchalantly, down playing her awe though her eyes continued to roam the ornate room eagerly, picking out more and more little details to fall in love with.
Unfortunately, her admiring perusal of the venue was cut short when the other guests took note of the Oliver Queen's arrival and groups of them quickly buzzed over to snatch up as much of the billionaire's attention as they could.
They worked their way around the room at a painfully slow pace; a charming smile permanently screwed to Oliver's face as he greeted many of the guests by name and offered each one a firm handshake. Chloe watched in amazement as both men and woman alike melted in his presence, practically knocking each other over for the chance to lap up the bits of conversation he was giving away. Following his lead, she kept her own unwavering smile fixed to her lips and nodded politely when the strangers surrounding her stopped adoring Oliver long enough to cut their eyes at her curiously. At first, she made a point of keeping up with all of the names and topics that were flying around her fast and furious, but it quickly became obvious that no one was expecting any conversational contributions from her, so she gave up the effort entirely and, instead, let her eyes drift over to study Oliver's easy grace as he naturally assumed this role his birthright required of him.
She listened carefully as he volleyed ideas for a potential business venture back and forth with a trio of men who were thoroughly engrossed in his every opinion, insight and comment. Demonstrating both business savvy and boat loads of charisma, he pointed out holes in their proposition tactfully; came up with solutions on the fly; and even assembled a list of prospective partners within just a few short minutes. Her fascination with his performance was interrupted when her eyes caught sight of a familiar grin shining in her direction. Her own smile morphing from pasted to genuine, she slid her arm away from Oliver and cut a path directly across the ballroom towards Dr. Marshall.
"Miss Sullivan!" The sweet natured gentleman enthused as she approached. "What a wonderful surprise!"
"So nice to see you again, Dr. Marshall," she grinned as she accepted his outstretched hand and relaxed in the comfort of a friendly face. "And please, call me Chloe… Miss Sullivan makes me feel like I'm back in detention."
Dr. Marshall laughed openly. "Only if you call me Charles," he proposed with a wink as he released her hand and with a smile, gestured to the elegant lady at his side. "My beautiful wife Adelle."
Chloe smiled warmly as she shook the lovely woman's hand, instantly appreciating her gracefully aged beauty and unfussy style; a welcome change from all the painted cougars that were prowling around the room.
"It's a pleasure to meet you Chloe," the older woman greeted kindly. "I was just telling Charles that you are – hands down – the prettiest creature in this room!"
Chloe blushed at the praise, recalling similar smiles and compliments she'd received from Martha Kent over the years and feeling the same swell of pleasure at the generous approval.
"It's the dress," she downplayed, immensely satisfied that Dr. Marshall had the good sense to marry a woman who projected the same aura of pleasantness as him. "You can't miss something that has its own gravitational pull."
"And she's modest too," Adelle observed contentedly. "Won't you just be a breath of fresh air!"
"So you decided to try out the soiree circuit after all," Charles smiled teasingly.
Chloe hooked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing in Oliver's general direction on the other side of the room.
"Like you said," she chirped. "Manipulative."
"The word Dr. Marshall used was persuasive," Oliver corrected with a grin as he came up behind her and settled his warm hand flush against her lower back, leaning forward to shake Charles's hand happily and dropping a polite kiss on Adelle's cheek.
"Po-tay-to, po-tah-to," Chloe mused cheekily.
"I'm so glad you could both make it," Oliver continued, his eyes rolling away from Chloe's snarking with a smile.
"I'd never miss it," Adelle declared. "These events of yours are always a veritable how-to-guide for hitting up potential benefactors."
Quirking a brow, Chloe was about to ask the older woman what she meant when Oliver helpfully supplied the answer to the question she had yet to voice.
"Adelle chairs Marshall Continuing Education," he explained with pride. "It's a free, all-ages learning centre for individuals with special needs and one of the Queen Foundation's favourite charitable organizations."
"I've heard of it," Chloe nodded, surprised she hadn't made the connection herself. "You do wonderful work."
"The teachers do the work," Adelle dismissed graciously. "I just make sure the place keeps running."
"Which is no small feat," Charles complimented, squeezing his wife proudly and reminding Chloe of Martha all over again.
"What about you Chloe?" Charles asked curiously, tearing his adoring eyes slowly away from his wife. "What profession is lucky enough to count you amongst its ranks?"
Oh, well, she thought to herself, I work for the big guy here, running operations for his underground league of superheroes. You know, fighting crime and corruption and basically bringing justice to the known world and all its inhabitants. It's kind of a big deal.
"I run a counselling centre a very good friend of mine founded," she answered instead.
"Really?" Adelle remarked, eyes wide. "As young as you are? That's marvellous! What centre is it?"
"Oh, it's just a small, hole in the wall," she stressed vaguely, hoping her tone was coming across as self-effacing as opposed to secretive. "Our functions are on a considerably smaller scale than this… less champagne, more pizza, really."
Both Charles and Adelle laughed at her deprecating, but she could tell they didn't totally buy her comments and rather, were tactfully respecting her obvious desire to get off the hook. Thankfully, the band chose that moment to launch pleasantly into a new set, which provided Oliver with an easy subject change.
"So, what will it take to get you out on the dance floor, hmm?" he asked her, the taunting tone of his voice lighting smiles on both Charles and Adelle's faces.
"Look," she groaned as she stared wearily at the expanse of polished hardwood that already had various couples creeping out onto it, "you need to learn to quit while you're ahead. You got me here, let's leave it at that."
Her three companions chuckled over her trepidation.
"Well, guess I'll just have to find someone a little more accommodating," Oliver grinned as he turned to Adelle and gallantly offered his arm. "Shall we?"
Returning his smile, Adelle looped her arm around his and sent an enchanting look to her husband.
"Don't wait up darling," she quipped as she and Oliver glided onto the floor, flowing perfectly with the classically understated music.
"I fear my wife may have a little crush on your boyfriend," Charles joked to Chloe as they watched Oliver and Adelle from the sidelines. "I'll be hearing about this for the next month, I'm sure."
Trying to cover up the way her eyes popped out of her head at his reference to Oliver being her boyfriend, Chloe found herself stammering out a version of the truth.
"We're not really together, together," she babbled, her hands lifting to make jerky air quotes. She knew she should just let Charles believe the image she and Oliver were projecting, but she was unbearably compelled to set the record straight with this man who had been nothing but nice to her. "It's just, you know…" She scrambled for something appropriate.
"New?" Charles supplied helpfully, his gentle smile proving positively heart-warming.
"Yeah sure, that," she allowed, wishing it wasn't still a lie, but feeling as though she'd at least curtailed the commonly held assumption about them just a bit.
"Well, you two make an exceedingly amiable pair," he lauded lightly. "I thought that the moment you both walked into my office yesterday. In fact – and please forgive me if this sounds condescending – you two remind me of myself and Adelle when we were your age."
Chloe's cheeks flamed scarlet, but his obvious sincerity made it possible for her to smile despite her sudden bashfulness. "Not condescending at all," she assured him. "Quite the compliment, actually."
"Why thank you," he grinned.
Seeming to sense that he'd unintentionally landed her in an awkward predicament, he turned to face her fully, extending his arm towards her.
"I realize that you're not inclined to dance," he began courteously, "but how about you help an old fella show the love of his life that he still knows a thing or two about sweeping women off their feet?"
Chloe laughed apologetically. "I'm worried you'll regret asking me when this dress sends me on my backside and I end up spoiling the effect."
He glanced down at her gown, sharing her smile.
"It is quite the show-stopper," he acknowledged. "Must weigh a ton."
"You don't even know the half of it!" She exclaimed, grateful for some sympathy at last.
He chuckled knowingly. "I venture Oliver got it for you?"
"Persuasive," she griped, the simple word causing Charles to laugh heartily.
"Well, you look radiant, so it's not all bad," he appeased, winning her over easily with another one of his grins.
Leaning towards the Doctor with a conspiratorial smile, she motioned for him to do the same. "Promise not to tell him," she whispered, "but I have to admit I kind of like it."
He laughed again, offering his arm to her once more and this time she accepted without hesitation.
"Consider this fair warning," she lectured as they moved easily into the small, waltzing crowd. "I'm not much of a dancer."
"Neither am I," Charles promised. "We'll look awful together."
"Wonderful," Chloe giggled as he guided her effortlessly to the music, instantly proving that he'd out-and-out lied about his dancing prowess.
To their left, she could see Adelle smiling at them delightedly while Oliver's expression was one of mock-indignation.
"Well, we don't seem to be getting through to Adelle," Charles observed wryly, "but we've certainly proven a point to Oliver."
"Let him sulk," she bragged. "It'll be good for that ego of his."
"So this is how it is?" Oliver joked as he and Adelle twirled up beside them, the older woman alight with laughter. "You'll dance with Charles but not me?"
"Obviously," she confirmed flippantly.
"Now, now," Charles reprimanded sarcastically. "No need to get in a huff Oliver, I was merely luring the lady out here for your benefit."
Without warning, Charles spun her arm over her head and deposited her against Oliver's chest where she landed with a clumsy thud. Having vacated her spot with far more grace than Chloe had exhibited, Adelle drifted easily into her husband's waiting embrace.
"A set up?" Chloe exclaimed, her eyes darting between Oliver and Charles. "I knew you two were in cahoots!"
Offering only a smile and a shrug, Dr. Marshall turned affectionately to his wife and together, they sailed off to enjoy their dance in their own little world.
Looking up to find Oliver smirking at her, she readjusted the hold she had on her skirt and shifted slightly to accommodate her new and considerably taller dance partner.
"I can't believe it took a ploy to get you to dance with me," he kidded as he took her hand and began leading her slowly, their conversation dictating their rhythm more than the music. "It's cause he's a Doctor, isn't it? Girls are always after the Doctors."
"Yes, because billionaires are so unappealing," she drawled.
"I'm appealing, am I?" He prodded teasingly, his brow quirking as he pulled her closer, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
"Oliver, I'm a heterosexual female," she stated blandly. "It's practically mandatory that I recognize your appeal, even if it's only in passing."
"Whoa! Don't hold back Sidekick," he laughed. "Tell me how you really feel!"
She paused in that second, suddenly wondering what it was she was feeling. Pressed against his body and pinned by the perfect smile he was beaming at her, it was pretty easy to forget that this wasn't a date. Alarms instantly sounded in her brain and she reminded herself that any ridiculous romantic notions on her part would have her heart handing over its letter of resignation faster than she could say lack of danger pay. She'd travelled down unrequited road before and was very aware of the fact that it was a long, bumpy ride that always came to a dead end. Had the best friend to prove it and everything.
"Hey," Oliver called to her softly, drawing her faraway eyes back to his. "What's going on in there?"
Her brows lowered in confusion, so he clarified his question by reaching their clasped hands towards her and tapping her forehead with a gentle index finger.
"Just concentrating on my dancing," she lied through her smile, finding that the Oliver grin he was grinning at her was leaving her both warm and cold.
An unexpected flash lit up in her periphery and her head snapped around to discover a lone shutterbug that had them in his camera's sights. A second flash popped brightly in her eyes and she immediately lowered her head a little closer to Oliver's chest in an effort to hide her face.
"I thought you had security at this shindig," she chided. "Or are all those guys skulking around in the black suits just for decoration?"
"Got to give some of the press access for publicity," he responded, his head lowering near hers in a similar attempt to gain a piece of privacy. "Necessary evil, I'm afraid."
"Sure," she muttered, hesitating for just a second before closing the bit of distance between them and resting her head on his chest; ignoring how those warning bells in her head went from loud to absolutely wailing.
"So, how's it feel to be this evening's It Girl?" He asked, his chin pressing against the crown of her head and his chest reverberating under her ear as he spoke.
"It Girl?" She questioned wonderingly. "Is that what I am?"
"The talk of the room," he confirmed as his hand drifted against the material of her dress, stroking her back.
"Never been that before," she admitted quietly, the words honest, surprised.
"Somehow I doubt that," he contradicted and she could actually feel his smile.
She was struck by the sensation, unable to figure out when exactly she'd come to know all of his smirks, grins and smiles so terribly well. Lost in her own musing, she barely noticed as their conversation faded away and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, both swaying slowly with the music as the band wound seamlessly into a new song and their first dance melted into their second.
It Girl, she pondered thoughtfully. She'd be lying if she didn't admit to having a daydream or two about being that girl when she was younger – a Lana or a Lois. Despite the fact that she'd grown far more comfortable in her own skin over the years, she still held a little piece of that envy that used to turn up every once in a while during her childhood. No matter how easy it was to recognize that her own charm and wit and beauty were wholly appealing, there was always going to be a little, spunky, tomboy that wondered what it would like to be the girl that the Clarks and the Olivers of the world bowed down and worshipped.
At that moment, the bonafide Prince Charming she was dancing with let his hand absently glide up her spine; his fingers pausing to caress her neck before grazing a delicate path across her bare shoulder blades.
Her heart hammered erratically in her chest and she gave herself a mental pat on the back for having the foresight to hide her face against his chest, knowing he couldn't see the color spreading warmly through her cheeks. Despite her better judgement, she threw caution to the wind and indulged by sinking deeper into Oliver's arms, letting her inner It Girl bask in it all – at least until they stopped dancing.