CHLOE
Oh, I started out fine.
Okay, I'm not going to totally dismiss the nerve-wracking grip in my chest area that came when he offered to dance with me, but I managed to handle that just fine, thanks very much. I was positively cool, calm and collected, as if that punch held a mysterious ingredient something other than alcohol that instilled coolness in me (something I've been a bit clueless about, to be honest). I even managed to tease him about it, and to top it all off, he looked more nervous than I did.
Imagine that, Lex Luthor nervous about dancing with me. Huh. Probably thinks I'll cramp his style. Or step on his toes. Huh.
Anyway. It only meant one thing. The ball was in my court (of course, the fact that I'm sober meant that the ball was already in my court, but anyway). I was in charge here. I was in control.
Unfortunately, at the point in time when I thought I was in control, he drew me close and I forgot how to breathe.
I have to remind myself of the mechanics: in through the nose, out through the mouth, inhale pink, exhale blue.
But in all due consideration, you have to understand where I'm coming from. I mean, I have never been drawn close before! Yes, I've been hugged. Yes, I've been kissed. Sure, I've been hugged AND kissed. But I have never had an arm encircling itself around my waist and slowly drawing my body close enough so that my stomach brushes across the belt of his trousers and all I can smell is that cologne circling itself around my head and screwing up my senses.. and for that someone to be LEX LUTHOR???
Oh yeah, there's a big difference between THAT and being hugged and kissed by ordinary guys (well, they were actually both mutants, and I didn't get to kiss the other one, which is good considering he would have sucked the body warmth out of me, but anyway).
We all know that one of the reasons why the idea of going to the Prom with Lex Luthor seemed so enthralling was not only because of the interview or the fact that I actually HAD a Prom date, it was the fact that I was going with Lex Luthor. And no one imagines the weird Chloe Sullivan nabbing an enigma like Lex Luthor (even if it WAS out of charity, but no one needs to know that). And definitely no one can imagine Chloe Sullivan DANCING with Lex Luthor.
That was supposed to be the cherry on top. Dancing with him. Confirming everyone's suspicion that yes, Chloe is at the Prom with Lex Luthor, and no, it doesn't seem like he was arm-wrestled into it.
I was SUPPOSED to be smug and fully enjoying the shell-shocked look on my schoolmate's faces.
I didn't think that everyone around me, even the music, would fade out into a non-existent blur.
And I certainly didn't think that I would feel like we are the only two people in the room.
Nope, THAT I didn't expect.
LEX
There are just too many goddamn teenagers in here.
Being enclosed in a gym with teenagers to the left, right and center of me was the one thing that I was glad to leave behind when I graduated, amongst other things. Why I had to befriend one to get me into such a situation is, at this present moment in time, beyond human comprehension.
Certainly I am far from forgetting the teenager who circles with me in my arms, in the middle of this mangy gym in the middle of this crappy song. Yet I feel like this would be a pleasurable act if there were no flies flying into the mouths of teenagers within viewing distance of us.
And this is only a Prom. Imagine if I took Chloe elsewhere. To one of the many boring social events that I am so compelled to attend. I'm sure that Chloe would make a delightful intrusion in the doldrums of socialite events, but would jaws drop at the sight of us dancing? It's a surety.
She's so young.
Not only in the matters of age, because I believe that a child of fourteen could hold more wisdom than a man of forty-eight, but she's young in every other way. We might differ in five years in terms of age, but in terms of experience I might just have a twenty-year head start.
One might wonder why I'm dwelling on such things when I should, in fact, concentrate on the moment at hand. If truth be told, maybe it's high time that I learn to release myself and fully enjoy a moment, instead of shooting doses of reality into my brain. But those doses of reality are imperative at the moment.
Particularly when the moment at hand is making me feel an effect somewhat similar to drowning. When I do concentrate on the moment at hand, I feel less solid like I should be, looking down and finding Chloe's blue eyes clamped on my face with no discernable hint of what she may be thinking or feeling. I have a horrifying feeling that the sudden liquidation in my bones is a result of a weakness in my knees, and no, that is never a good thing.
I look down into her eyes and she looks unflinchingly back, almost curiously, almost bashfully, almost uncertainly, and all I can smell is that apple scent rubbed onto her skin, and the combination of which makes me almost heady in rhapsody.
And here I am, a person who judges people by the strength of their stares, and I can't seem to hold my gaze for five seconds. Which is, in a quick recap of all my past stare downs with more intimidating people, pretty damn funny.
Hilarious. Ironic. Ridiculous.
Oh, fuck.
Which is why it's imperative to keep my eyes focused elsewhere.
"Lex?"
Her voice is uncharacteristically soft, and it seems to add to the surrealism.
"Yes?" I have no choice, I glance back down at her.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You seem kind of. I don't know. Out of it."
"No."
"So you're okay?"
"Yes."
"Right," she looks at me oddly. Can't say I blame her. "I mean, we can stop dancing if you want to."
"No," the words are too quick out of my mouth. Dammit, Luthor. Get a grip.
"If you're sure."
"YES," exasperation etches my voice. She looks at me archly.
"God, I was just asking," she replies, the normal sardonic tone inching its way back into her voice and I feel a kind of relief.
"Let's just keep dancing," I tell her, drawing her close to me again. "And not talk."
"Shouldn't you talk when you dance though? I mean, isn't it awkward if you just stare at each other throughout one song? And this is a pretty long song, you know. About five minutes."
"So let's not stare at each other."
"Huh," she says, but seems complying enough. We unconsciously move into a different position where she's not craning her neck to look up at me, instead she rests her cheek against my shoulder.
I'm free from her eyes.
But her breath against my neck and a hardness elsewhere is telling me that this position also has its drawbacks.
CHLOE
Yeah, this is definitely better. More comfortable. Lex has nice broad shoulders, and his tuxedo is definitely of a more expensive material than cotton so that has its advantages too.
GOD, he smells nice. In a position where my nose is within close proximity to his neck means that it is one intrusion from my sanity that I cannot escape from. But I'll die trying.
Remember the breathing mechanics, I concentrate on the task at hand. Not stepping on his toes seems like a good thing to focus on. Unfortunately though, he's a better dancer than I would have thought and sidestepping my toes doesn't seem to be much of a problem to him.
Surely, I can concentrate on other things! Like the lyrics of the song that's playing. God, what song is this?
Breathe, Chloe, breathe.
Except that I feel his breath against my forehead now and it's making it harder for me.
He shifts. Or maybe it's just his head that moves. We've been dancing in a comatose stance for a few minutes now (feels more like a year) but the slight movement jolts my nerves. When nothing happens, I almost laugh at myself.
God, Chloe. You NUT. Get a grip, you idiot. He's just a man.
Then instead of his breath, I feel two lips brushing lightly against my forehead. And then there's a sudden motion of his chest that shows an unmistakable intake of breath, which seems to indicate only one thing.
He has taken a sniff of my hair and I think he likes it.
Except now I'm hoping that he's not smelling too much of it, because if he goes deeper then he'll smell the hairspray that has been vainly holding my hair up. Or worse, maybe by some unforeseen force of misfortune, the smell of Clark's truck would probably have latched itself onto my hair.
Clark.
Wonder where he is?
But I have to concentrate on the problem of the moment i.e. getting my hair as far away from Lex Luthor's nose as is humanly possible. I gently extract my head away from his head and look up at him.
Just as I look up at him, he looks down at me.
And I'm suddenly aware of how very close our faces are. So close, in fact, that I feel a slight brush on the tip of my nose, from the tip of his nose.
I stop breathing altogether. Lex, on the other hand, seems to be breathing harder.
He looks at me, but not in that searching way he usually does when it seems like he's trying to pick your brain out for meteorite information. No, he seems to be looking at me more differently right now, but I can't seem to pinpoint it.
And, in another galaxy far, far away, I'm thinking of how even from this close distance I still can't determine what color his eyes are.
But the giddiness of feeling Lex's breath on my face gives way to a more nerve-wrenching realization.
Which is: Oh my God, I think he's going to kiss me.
And close after: Oh my God, I think I'm going to let him.
And comes the moment: that split second where everything has faded away into nothingness, and the only thing you see is the man in front of you cocking his head to one side, staring at your mouth like it's a destination, and leaning into you.
And then you close your eyes and lean forward to receive him.
At that split second where I, we, should be oblivious to nothing else.
Then a voice says, "Hey, Lex!"
Oh, I started out fine.
Okay, I'm not going to totally dismiss the nerve-wracking grip in my chest area that came when he offered to dance with me, but I managed to handle that just fine, thanks very much. I was positively cool, calm and collected, as if that punch held a mysterious ingredient something other than alcohol that instilled coolness in me (something I've been a bit clueless about, to be honest). I even managed to tease him about it, and to top it all off, he looked more nervous than I did.
Imagine that, Lex Luthor nervous about dancing with me. Huh. Probably thinks I'll cramp his style. Or step on his toes. Huh.
Anyway. It only meant one thing. The ball was in my court (of course, the fact that I'm sober meant that the ball was already in my court, but anyway). I was in charge here. I was in control.
Unfortunately, at the point in time when I thought I was in control, he drew me close and I forgot how to breathe.
I have to remind myself of the mechanics: in through the nose, out through the mouth, inhale pink, exhale blue.
But in all due consideration, you have to understand where I'm coming from. I mean, I have never been drawn close before! Yes, I've been hugged. Yes, I've been kissed. Sure, I've been hugged AND kissed. But I have never had an arm encircling itself around my waist and slowly drawing my body close enough so that my stomach brushes across the belt of his trousers and all I can smell is that cologne circling itself around my head and screwing up my senses.. and for that someone to be LEX LUTHOR???
Oh yeah, there's a big difference between THAT and being hugged and kissed by ordinary guys (well, they were actually both mutants, and I didn't get to kiss the other one, which is good considering he would have sucked the body warmth out of me, but anyway).
We all know that one of the reasons why the idea of going to the Prom with Lex Luthor seemed so enthralling was not only because of the interview or the fact that I actually HAD a Prom date, it was the fact that I was going with Lex Luthor. And no one imagines the weird Chloe Sullivan nabbing an enigma like Lex Luthor (even if it WAS out of charity, but no one needs to know that). And definitely no one can imagine Chloe Sullivan DANCING with Lex Luthor.
That was supposed to be the cherry on top. Dancing with him. Confirming everyone's suspicion that yes, Chloe is at the Prom with Lex Luthor, and no, it doesn't seem like he was arm-wrestled into it.
I was SUPPOSED to be smug and fully enjoying the shell-shocked look on my schoolmate's faces.
I didn't think that everyone around me, even the music, would fade out into a non-existent blur.
And I certainly didn't think that I would feel like we are the only two people in the room.
Nope, THAT I didn't expect.
LEX
There are just too many goddamn teenagers in here.
Being enclosed in a gym with teenagers to the left, right and center of me was the one thing that I was glad to leave behind when I graduated, amongst other things. Why I had to befriend one to get me into such a situation is, at this present moment in time, beyond human comprehension.
Certainly I am far from forgetting the teenager who circles with me in my arms, in the middle of this mangy gym in the middle of this crappy song. Yet I feel like this would be a pleasurable act if there were no flies flying into the mouths of teenagers within viewing distance of us.
And this is only a Prom. Imagine if I took Chloe elsewhere. To one of the many boring social events that I am so compelled to attend. I'm sure that Chloe would make a delightful intrusion in the doldrums of socialite events, but would jaws drop at the sight of us dancing? It's a surety.
She's so young.
Not only in the matters of age, because I believe that a child of fourteen could hold more wisdom than a man of forty-eight, but she's young in every other way. We might differ in five years in terms of age, but in terms of experience I might just have a twenty-year head start.
One might wonder why I'm dwelling on such things when I should, in fact, concentrate on the moment at hand. If truth be told, maybe it's high time that I learn to release myself and fully enjoy a moment, instead of shooting doses of reality into my brain. But those doses of reality are imperative at the moment.
Particularly when the moment at hand is making me feel an effect somewhat similar to drowning. When I do concentrate on the moment at hand, I feel less solid like I should be, looking down and finding Chloe's blue eyes clamped on my face with no discernable hint of what she may be thinking or feeling. I have a horrifying feeling that the sudden liquidation in my bones is a result of a weakness in my knees, and no, that is never a good thing.
I look down into her eyes and she looks unflinchingly back, almost curiously, almost bashfully, almost uncertainly, and all I can smell is that apple scent rubbed onto her skin, and the combination of which makes me almost heady in rhapsody.
And here I am, a person who judges people by the strength of their stares, and I can't seem to hold my gaze for five seconds. Which is, in a quick recap of all my past stare downs with more intimidating people, pretty damn funny.
Hilarious. Ironic. Ridiculous.
Oh, fuck.
Which is why it's imperative to keep my eyes focused elsewhere.
"Lex?"
Her voice is uncharacteristically soft, and it seems to add to the surrealism.
"Yes?" I have no choice, I glance back down at her.
"Is everything okay?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"You seem kind of. I don't know. Out of it."
"No."
"So you're okay?"
"Yes."
"Right," she looks at me oddly. Can't say I blame her. "I mean, we can stop dancing if you want to."
"No," the words are too quick out of my mouth. Dammit, Luthor. Get a grip.
"If you're sure."
"YES," exasperation etches my voice. She looks at me archly.
"God, I was just asking," she replies, the normal sardonic tone inching its way back into her voice and I feel a kind of relief.
"Let's just keep dancing," I tell her, drawing her close to me again. "And not talk."
"Shouldn't you talk when you dance though? I mean, isn't it awkward if you just stare at each other throughout one song? And this is a pretty long song, you know. About five minutes."
"So let's not stare at each other."
"Huh," she says, but seems complying enough. We unconsciously move into a different position where she's not craning her neck to look up at me, instead she rests her cheek against my shoulder.
I'm free from her eyes.
But her breath against my neck and a hardness elsewhere is telling me that this position also has its drawbacks.
CHLOE
Yeah, this is definitely better. More comfortable. Lex has nice broad shoulders, and his tuxedo is definitely of a more expensive material than cotton so that has its advantages too.
GOD, he smells nice. In a position where my nose is within close proximity to his neck means that it is one intrusion from my sanity that I cannot escape from. But I'll die trying.
Remember the breathing mechanics, I concentrate on the task at hand. Not stepping on his toes seems like a good thing to focus on. Unfortunately though, he's a better dancer than I would have thought and sidestepping my toes doesn't seem to be much of a problem to him.
Surely, I can concentrate on other things! Like the lyrics of the song that's playing. God, what song is this?
Breathe, Chloe, breathe.
Except that I feel his breath against my forehead now and it's making it harder for me.
He shifts. Or maybe it's just his head that moves. We've been dancing in a comatose stance for a few minutes now (feels more like a year) but the slight movement jolts my nerves. When nothing happens, I almost laugh at myself.
God, Chloe. You NUT. Get a grip, you idiot. He's just a man.
Then instead of his breath, I feel two lips brushing lightly against my forehead. And then there's a sudden motion of his chest that shows an unmistakable intake of breath, which seems to indicate only one thing.
He has taken a sniff of my hair and I think he likes it.
Except now I'm hoping that he's not smelling too much of it, because if he goes deeper then he'll smell the hairspray that has been vainly holding my hair up. Or worse, maybe by some unforeseen force of misfortune, the smell of Clark's truck would probably have latched itself onto my hair.
Clark.
Wonder where he is?
But I have to concentrate on the problem of the moment i.e. getting my hair as far away from Lex Luthor's nose as is humanly possible. I gently extract my head away from his head and look up at him.
Just as I look up at him, he looks down at me.
And I'm suddenly aware of how very close our faces are. So close, in fact, that I feel a slight brush on the tip of my nose, from the tip of his nose.
I stop breathing altogether. Lex, on the other hand, seems to be breathing harder.
He looks at me, but not in that searching way he usually does when it seems like he's trying to pick your brain out for meteorite information. No, he seems to be looking at me more differently right now, but I can't seem to pinpoint it.
And, in another galaxy far, far away, I'm thinking of how even from this close distance I still can't determine what color his eyes are.
But the giddiness of feeling Lex's breath on my face gives way to a more nerve-wrenching realization.
Which is: Oh my God, I think he's going to kiss me.
And close after: Oh my God, I think I'm going to let him.
And comes the moment: that split second where everything has faded away into nothingness, and the only thing you see is the man in front of you cocking his head to one side, staring at your mouth like it's a destination, and leaning into you.
And then you close your eyes and lean forward to receive him.
At that split second where I, we, should be oblivious to nothing else.
Then a voice says, "Hey, Lex!"