Author's Note: Right, I am truly sorry that it took me so long to update these last two chapters. I have a very good reason for it, but I'm not going to bore anyone, so, just hope you forgive me and enjoy the rest of the chapters. I promise to try and be a lot more prompt :)

With the risk of sounding sappy, I gotta thank everyone for the lovely reviews.

Oh, and big thanks to Beautiful N' Bruised for taking the time out to check up on me :)

* * * * *

CLARK

I found Lana at the football field.

When I saw her, I slowed my pace down to an easy walk, although it was with a mixed presence of mind and a rapidly beating heart that I approached her. It surprised me, somewhat, that I could find her so easily. It gave me some effort to find Chloe, yet it's never that hard for me to find Lana.

I don't really want to question that right now.

She heard me approach before I could say anything, whipping her head around with a little gasp, which soon gave way to a sigh of relief. "It's you, Clark."

Who else could it have been? Hasn't it ALWAYS been me?

"It's me," I confirm, taking my place next to her. Although I would rather focus my eyes on her, she seems quite content in staring at the sky above, and I feel that I should be content in doing that too, even if the view down here is miles more spectacular than that up there.

"The night is so beautiful, Clark," she says with a small sigh.

I silently agree.

"Ever wonder what's up there?" she continues. When I glance at her, she has an impish little smile on her face. "Maybe there's something beyond there. Something amazing. Something different." She pauses, and adds, almost to herself, "Something better than this."

"I wonder all the time," I reply, in all honesty.

"Ever wish you were there instead of here?" she says, ruefully.

I look down at her, her face upturned towards the sky, the moonlight dancing on her skin. "No, never."

"It's wonderful to be so content, Clark."

"Sometimes you just have to appreciate what you have."

She's silent. When I look down at her again, I find that she's the one staring at me this time, curiosity on her face.

"Sometimes I wish I were like you, Clark," she says. "Not letting anything get me down."

Not letting anything get me down? If I did, then I would either be homicidal or suicidal, both ways not very advisable hobbies to get into.

She wishes she were like me. Not WITH me. Like me.

"Are you okay?"

She shrugs. "I guess I am. Just another spat, right?" I refuse to comment. "But why he wants to get into one in front of the whole world is just beyond me."

Why she wastes her time with him is beyond me too.

"It's gonna be a little awkward winning Prom Queen when the Prom King has gone AWOL."

She smiles at this. "What makes you think I'll even get titled Prom Queen, Clark?"

"A little bird told me."

She laughs a long, delighted laugh. "Well if I do, I guess I could always slow dance by myself on the dance floor," she says with a wry smile.

"Well hey, if there are no other candidates lined up," I say, looking down at her. "I'll be honored to dance with you."

She smiles up at me. "You would? Thanks, Clark."

I smile back at her, and instead of breaking her gaze away from me as she normally does when our looks get just a bit this side of intense, she keeps her eyes on me.

I feel like the whole football field is charging with electricity. Through my mind run a million thoughts: should I kiss her? Would she let me kiss her? Does she want me to?

But no, I just stand still. Why? Maybe I'm just not good at these things. Maybe I don't want to be a reason why Lana and Whitney break up. Maybe I'm just not sure of her feelings for me yet.

Maybe I'm just chicken.

Lana breaks her gaze from me and looks down at her hands.

"I think I'd rather be left alone right now, Clark."

I sigh. Of course she does.

"Well, you know, just make sure you're there when they announce you Prom Queen."

She smiles at this. "Just make sure you're there when I don't have a Prom King to dance with."

"I promise if you promise."

"I promise."

"Great," I grin at her, and she laughs at the exuberance in my face.

It's when I reach the gym that my carefree cavalier attitude of saving damsels in distress starts to break down when I suddenly remember that I'm only good at superhero activities - not dancing.

Which is why it's urgent for me right now to find Chloe and get some practice moves in case I actually do have to go up on my word and dance with Lana. On the gym floor. In front of everybody and his brother to see what a lousy dancer I am.

I find her easily this time. Not a lot of people have a bald man in their company tonight.

From far I see her dancing with Lex.

Watching the two of them dance, I feel strangely uplifted. I'm thankful, more than anything else. Thankful of how an evening with such potential disasters has managed to turn out, if not perfect, at least okay.

I feel especially thankful to Lex for bearing with the evening's quirks and inconsistencies like he has. And topping it all off by dancing with Chloe? He deserves a huge gold star for his efforts, and for being such a great friend tonight.

I'm buying him the biggest steak sandwich at the Talon for this.

I call out, a spring in my step and a grin on my face, "Hey, Lex!" and then stop when I'm hit with a realization.

They didn't look like they were dancing. In fact, or my eyes could be deceiving me (although they never have before), it looked like they were about to kiss.

At the sound of my voice, they jump apart from each other, and that confirms my suspicions.



LEX

Crap.

"Clark!" That came from Chloe, a little too cheerful for my liking.

Clark walks up to us, eyes blue and darting from Chloe's face to mine in split seconds, as if trying to make a quick judgement or to ascertain what is already a certainty. He really doesn't have to bother, I could tell him quite easily.

Yes, Chloe and I were about to kiss, and yes, you ruined it.

"Hey, guys," he says, kind of unsteadily, kind of suspiciously, kind of confused.

Since Chloe seems eager enough to act like the guilty wife caught of almost kissing her husband's best friend, I let her do all the talking. "Hey, Clark!" she replies, brightly.

"I was going to ask." he's very confused now. I see him battling with his brain, wondering if he should be angry when he has no good reason for it. I watch him struggling with indecision with a mixture of amusement and annoyance, "I was going to ask if I could cut in."

He looks at me, or to be more apt about it, he stares hard at me.

"Be my guest," I reply. I glance at Chloe just as she looks away from me.

The three of us stand in an awkward triangle, Clark's eyes still darting from Chloe to me, Chloe's eyes fixed on her shoes, my eyes fixed on Chloe. The tension in the air between us is so thick, but despite how I might have felt earlier in regards to Clark's esteem of me, right now I can't seem to give a shit whether or not he hates me.

And I'm standing here, irrevocably and irrationally vexed at the two of them.

But then, I have to wonder what it is that's really pissing me off.

Is it the fact that Clark interrupted us? No, I suppose that's more to do with frustration.

Is it Clark himself? Probably. The self-righteous attitude never worked well on me. If he's angry at me for showing Chloe a little too much attention, then maybe he should have showed a little more attention to Chloe first. I refuse to be an object of scrutiny under those conditions.

Is it Chloe? I have to pause and think about that. We could be kissing right now. We could be exchanging breaths, heartbeats, air, a little bit of our souls, or just plain venting out our evening's frustrations on each other and it would have been, there was a promise that it would have been, absolutely amazing.

How does she feel about that? I understand the sudden awkwardness of the situation that would keep her eyes away from my face. Yes, I AM human, after all.

But why the fuck is she acting so guilty about it?

It's amazing that I even have to wonder. Does Chloe not have that neon sign flashing above her head: 'Made Available For Clark Kent At All Times'?

And with this comes another gut-crunching thought: maybe I'm not angry. Maybe my pride has been wounded. Or maybe something else has been wounded, because all I feel right now is self-pitying HURT, and I cannot stand for that.

I'm beginning to realize what a huge waste of time this is.



CHLOE

Lex's voice forces my gaze away from my shoes and onto his face.

"I'm leaving."

When I look up at him, he's staring at me, with an almost triumphant, self- satisfied look, the kind that is usually at home with his face but has gone absent for the past few hour.

I try to say something, but for some reason, I can't.

I hear Clark's voice, "You're leaving?"

"Yes," he replies. "I think I've been exposed to too many teenagers tonight. It makes me lose my insanity."

I wince, as if those words were aimed at me in the form of piercing arrows.

Clark doesn't seem to know what to say. Or maybe he does say something, because I hear another voice somewhere to the right of me, and Lex responds, "I'll see you tomorrow, Clark."

He says to me, "Have a nice evening, Chloe."

I want to say, "Don't leave," but I can't. At this point in time, I'm not sure if I DON'T want him to leave. His presence seems to be screwing up my senses at the moment, and I think I might be relieved to find him gone.

Yet at the same time, I don't WANT him to leave.

Instead of saying so, I nod.

As if that was the answer he was waiting for, Lex abruptly turns and leaves the gym floor wordlessly, no last good-byes from either Clark or I, which is just another proof to the evidence that tonight has gone way past normal Smallville weirdness. But unlike a few seconds ago when the sudden appearance of Clark was a heart-stopping shock to bring me down to an early grave, I couldn't stop looking at him. My eyes stay on his back, follow him through the throngs of students, until he's out of view.

I glance at Clark, whose face is expressionless, but the fact that he didn't ask Lex to stay tells me, as he would have normally done, that maybe he's a bit irked at him.

But why? What's wrong with Lex and I kissing? Okay, maybe there ARE a million things wrong with it, but maybe to my father's eyes or Mr. Luthor's eyes or someone else's eyes but what wrong would it make in Clark's eyes?

It's not like he was taking advantage of me. Dammit. I WANTED to kiss him.

Crap. I really did want to kiss him.

He looked like a damn good kisser too.

Clark gives me a tight smile and gestures his arm out to me. "Wanna dance?"

I step into his arms and force myself to be happy, to be content with the fact that I am here tonight, in the gym, dancing in Clark's arms, like I've been dreaming about for so many nights prior to this moment when it has actually come true.

Can't I just, at least, ENJOY this moment?

The rigid way Clark holds his shoulders isn't helping me out in that department. I know he's dying to say something. I can feel it. He's just dying to ask me what happened. He's probably still trying to figure out whether or not he should be angry about it.

But why the hell should he? Does he play such a big part in my life for him to be affected every time I choose to kiss someone other than him?

Then, dammit, he should have made himself a bigger part of my life before this. That's HIS mistake, not mine.

But Clark and I aren't best friends for nothing, and he seems to sense something stirring in me.

"What's wrong?" he asks, and he sounds concerned.

I reply honestly, "I don't think I wanted Lex to leave."

It makes me feel so much better.