Whitney knew almost immediately where he was heading. It was Tuesday evening, after all, which meant that with any luck, Chloe would be parked at the Beanery (never the Talon-- not that he could blame her) chewing another pencil and tapping on her laptop, waiting for her dad to pick her up from his late shift.
He wasn't really sure why he needed to see her so badly; he only knew that if he did see her, he'd feel better about-- well, everything. He'd at least caught on that Chloe had an mysterious ability to snap him out of the doldrums, and he was definitely in a funk after that disastrous talk with Lana.
Still, when he spotted her in the Beanery, her back turned to the entrance, he paused. He hadn't spoke more than a few words to her since *it* had happened. Since he'd lost his mind and asked her to kiss him, and since the shock of her agreement had made him lose control of his better judgment.
Since they'd briefly, sweetly made out in his pick up truck.
Whitney inhaled sharply at that recall, and decided to forge ahead. He'd faced down 250 pound linebackers before. He could certainly strike up a conversation with a freshman girl that barely hit the five-feet-tall mark.
He waited until he was directly behind her, and cleared his throat exaggeratedly, prompting her to turn her head in his direction.
"Oh," she said, completely unenthused. "Hey."
"Hey. Can I sit down?"
She hesitated ever so slightly before she said, "Sure. Why not."
He nodded and took a seat across from her. Chloe typed two more keystrokes, then sighed.
"Can we just fast forward through the awkward lull in the conversation and get to the part where you tell me what you want?"
He stared at the ceiling and sighted tolerantly. "Now, that is not fair. Why do you have to *assume* I want anything?"
She stared at him dubiously. "Call it woman's intuition."
"Well, you're wrong. I just happened to be wandering by, and saw you through the window and decided to say hello. Is that a crime?"
"Fordman, with all due respect, you are one miserably bad liar," she told him guilelessly. "Spill it. What'samatter-- have a fight with Lana?"
He lowered his gaze guiltily. "Kind of."
"You know, having never actually been in one, advice about relationships is not my forte," she said. "Although if you're actually looking for crappy and useless relationship advice, I'm sure one of your football buddies will be more than happy to provide that."
"I'm not looking for advice," he retorted defiantly.
"Ah, I see, so this whole Alpha Male I-don't-need-no-stinkin-map approach to driving that guys usually do extends to more personal matters in your case."
Whitney made a disgusted sound and stood. "Forget it. I don't need this. Come to think of it, I don't even know why I came here."
He started to walk past her as she breathed, "Bye."
Something in her voice gave him pause then, and he took a deep breath and decided to try again. Whitney found himself once again staring at her back, at the slope of the back of her neck, and absently noted that the pale peaches and cream skin had only a couple of small beauty marks, but was otherwise porcelain and creamy. So different from his own skin, which freckled and ruddied at the slightest exposure to sunlight.
He fought the urge to sidle up behind her and study the back of her neck up close. Instead, he mustered up every ounce of bravado and leaned on the back of her chair.
Chloe sat upright, expectant, but unmoving. "You're back," she said lamely, and was ever so glad he could not see her face at the moment.
"Yeah. I lied. I do know why I came here."
"Oh?" She fought to keep her tone as neutral as possible. "Why's that?"
His words came out very slowly, and so low that only she could hear-- and even she had to strain to hear them. Almost... purring. If Whitney were the type to purr. Which he wasn't.
"Because. I can't-- stop thinking about you. Since the other night."
She kept her very best poker face on as she spoke. "That's not good."
That made him let go of the chair back, and he asked stiffly, "Why not?"
"Because," she explained, her voice wavering, "You're otherwise spoken for. And she's my friend, for better or for worse. And-- I don't do things like that."
Whitney nodded, and she finally turned to face him, still sitting. Examining his expression carefully, she began: "Look. I would be lying if I said that what happened didn't affect me. But--"
"Can we talk somewhere else?" he asked uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He noticed too many familiar faces in the Beanery glancing their way questioningly, and when she followed his furtive glances around the room, she nodded her assent, packed up her belongings and followed him out the door.
The street was no better. A couple of people had the audacity to continue staring at them curiously through the Beanery's window, and it was no help that the Talon was within view as well. Chloe pulled Whitney into the space between the Beanery and the next building. It was hopelessly dark and suspiciously humid, but at least it was private.
"OK, speak," she ordered good naturedly. "I'm listening."
"I..." he closed his mouth and shook his head. "I don't know what to say. I just wanted to see you."
"What for?"
He shrugged haplessly. She sighed and looked at him, hard. "Is this about the kissing thing?"
He was glad she couldn't see the way he so easily flushed. "Sort of. I guess."
"Well, I guess I'm flattered that it apparently impressed you so much, but the bottom line is that you're still in love with someone else, and that's that."
He shook his head and grabbed her free arm gently. "It's not like that. I do still have feelings for Lana. But--"
She stared at him expectantly, but nothing was forthcoming.
Instead, he gave a shaky sigh and tried a wholly different tack. "Look, Sullivan, if you're going to make me admit I've got feelings for you without saying you have them for me too, well, then, I'm not even going to bother making an ass out of myself. I'll just—just leave right now." But he stood rooted to the spot, and much to his relief, he was rewarded with a slow smile spread across her face in the scant light.
"You," she said dubiously, "You have... feelings. For me."
He nodded helplessly, his eyes shining in the moonlight. Without warning, she threw her head back and laughed, a deep belly laugh that bowled her over enough to need to lean against the wall for balance. She laughed and laughed, until his eyebrows were knitted together in serious concern.
"This isn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for," he admitted.
That only made her laugh harder. "You're insane, you know that?" she cried. "Completely crazy."
"Wow. Ouch." He couldn't look at her just then. "I guess I'll be on my way now..."
"No!" She stopped him with her hand on his shoulder, still grinning. "God, you're such a nerd!"
"Chloe, I do *not* understand you sometimes."
"Shut up!" she laughed. "So, tell me more about these feelings. I mean, my ego would love to know that a single kiss from me turned your attention from the goddess that is Lana Lang to plain little old me--"
"--you're not plain, and it wasn't just--"
"Shut UP!" she said, and poked him in rapid succession in the shoulder. "However! However, I am having a hard time seeing this, I gotta be honest."
"I don't know. OK? You just make me feel... different."
"Different than what, pray tell?"
He thought for a moment, then looked into her eyes carefully. "It's like... before I started getting to know you, I was feeling really hopeless. You know? Everyone was feeling so sorry for me, with the scholarship thing, and--"
"You were feeling pretty sorry for yourself, too."
"Exactly," he admitted, abashed. "But you weren't like that. You just... challenge me all the time. I don't know. You don't let me get away with my crap about anything important."
"So you're telling me it actually turns you on when I give you a hard time," she asked dryly, but there was a teasing note in her voice.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Maybe a little."
"Mmm. I kinda like the sound of that." Her lips twisted into a wry grin. "I have to admit that you've been pretty challenging for me too. However, there's still that matter of you having a girlfriend."
"I don't know," he said, and kicked the ground self consciously. "I don't know if I'm ready to just walk away from that now, or what."
She nodded, disappointed, and it wasn't lost on him. "Are you ready to walk away from Clark?" he asked.
The question made her flinch, and she could only stare at him, all wide-eyed helplessness.
"But," he began, the words almost painful coming out, "I think there's... something there. Between us. I think it deserves to be given a chance too." But his words were met with a contemplative silence from Chloe, so he prompted, "Do you think so too?"
She smiled demurely at him. "Maybe." A thoughtful pause. "I'm afraid."
"What, of me?"
"Of-- yes." She sighed. "Of rejection and-- of not measuring up against Lana for one more guy."
"You think this is easy for me?" he asked softly. "I mean. I'm talking about. About starting something with you here. I don't know. And what if tomorrow Kent wakes up and realizes his best friend is actually pretty hot? Where's that gonna leave me?"
"You think I'm hot?" she murmured curiously, and the look he gave her made her shiver.
"You said you thought I was cute," he reminded her.
She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall again thoughtfully. "I don't know what to tell you, Whitney," she said. "I don't know if we can do anything about-- about whatever the hell we've got here."
"I can't just break up with her for you," he said with dawning realization. "That'll mess up a lot, between a lot of people."
"Yeah," Chloe agreed. "We're such an incestuous little group, you know?"
Whitney gave her the strangest look. "I guess..." He waited and asked shyly, "Soooo... have you thought about me too? Or is this totally one sided or what?"
"Jesus, you're pushy," she muttered. Then she sighed. "Yeah, I thought about you. I didn't know what to think, actually. It's not like I have much in the way of experience when it comes to these things."
"Me either," he confessed. "Lana is the only serious relationship I've ever had."
"It's one more than me," she laughed, embarrassed suddenly.
"I don't mind." His voice was soft, gentle, a rare tone that put her at ease. "I just-- want to get to know you better. As a girl."
"As a girl?" she asked, feigning offense. "Oh. You mean, and not as the person who kicks your ass when you turn in your article late."
"Right." He added for good measure, "As more than a friend."
"You're not getting off my staff that easy, Fordman."
He laughed. "I said I'd be there till the end of the school year."
"Better be," she breathed, gazing up at him in the dim lamplight. She suddenly wondered if he, too, could feel the low hum of electricity between them. She realized it had always been there, only muted, and was only now allowing herself to really acknowledge it. It felt like a small dam bursting free.
"I will," he murmured, and the nearness of him suddenly made her heart pound in her ears.
"OK."
"I promise."
"That's good."
This time, when he leaned forward to find her lips with his, Chloe didn't push him away. This time, she raised her chin to meet him, her small arm sliding protectively around his neck, pulling him closer to her, till she was allowing him to gently pin her against the faintly clammy brick exterior of the building. She didn't even care that her book bag clunked to the ground around her feet, dimly aware that that was her laptop making the bulk of that sound. Her other hand was busy sliding around his waist, under his jacket, and the soft gasp he gave against her lips when her hand touched the small of his back thrilled her to no end.
After a brief moment, Whitney pulled back, smiling at her with open joy that she had only caught bare glimpses of before, and without warning, he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around in the alleyway midair with a great whooping sound. She laughed and shrieked and clung to him, but then she noticed his wide-eyed, terribly serious expression…
"Let's go somewhere else," he whispered somberly in his best deadpan. "It totally reeks back here."
Snickering, she let herself be led by the hand out of the alleyway and towards his truck, her book bag swinging behind her.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was remarkable how brightly the stars and moon illuminated the night without any streetlamps around. Chloe sat perched on the edge of the back of Whitney's truck, the back door dangling against the back of her legs. This was one thing in which she could honestly admit Smallville's superiority to Metropolis: In Metropolis, you couldn't see any stars without a telescope. Here, in a quiet, anonymous field, you couldn't see anything *but* stars as far as the eye could see.
"This is amazing," she half whispered. Whitney's upturned eyes glittered in the night's illumination as he nodded.
"Do you know what any of them are called?" he asked, gesturing with his chin towards the endless blanket of stars above them.
"No way," she laughed. "I suck at science."
"Me too."
"Uh. I think that one's the Big Dipper. Or the Little Dipper. I get them confused."
"Me too." He grinned at her and held her gaze, and she had to smile back.
"God, you're so tall," she mused. Suddenly, she shifted around onto her knees so that she was sitting on her legs. "There. Now I can look you in the eye without needing a neck brace."
He just kept on smiling, and said, "You're so pretty, Chloe. How come I never noticed before?"
"I keep telling you you're an idiot," she said, without a single trace of derision.
"I must be," he agreed. And his hand crept over hers, and he kissed her ever so gently, his thumb caressing her cheek almost as an afterthought. She kissed him back, sighing into him, and it took considerable self-restraint to push him away again.
"We came out here to talk," she reminded him. "My dad is going to be picking me up in less than an hour, so..."
He nodded and grew pensive. "I've been thinking."
"I'm worried already."
"Do you mind?" he asked flatly, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Take me seriously for a minute, OK?"
"OK. This is me taking you completely seriously."
He looked at her doubtfully, but went on: "Lana and me-- we've been one step away from breaking up for weeks. Before I started getting to know you, even."
"Yeah, I know." She met his surprised expression with, "Well, I've been getting the play by play from you-know-who."
He let out a tense breath and continued. "But. If you and me get together and then I finally break things off with Lana--"
She grimaced. "Oooh, potentially ugly scenario there."
"Exactly."
Chloe realized right then that she was in no mood to make demands, ultimatums, or even suggestions. She wanted to be able to be sure later on that whatever happened next was of his very own volition. She asked cautiously, "So what do you want to do?"
"I was thinking, if I break things off with Lana, and then you and I could get to know each other for a while without letting everyone know--"
"You mean, sneak around?"
"No. No. I mean, keep it quiet for a while."
"Ah. So actually, you mean sneak around."
He bit his lip. "Yeah. Well. Maybe. So that people won't think you broke us up."
"Wait, why is everyone going to blame me?"
"Because they just are," he said, his frustration mounting slightly. "You've got to trust me on this. This way, once everyone's over the fact that me and Lana aren't together anymore, we could come out about it in public."
"We? Like, you and me."
"Yeah."
"Oh. Um. About what?"
"About *us*."
"There's an 'us' now? Did I doze off during the part where you asked me about this, or what?"
"You don't want that?"
Instead of answering, she regarded him briefly, then punched him in the arm.
"Ow."
"So what are you saying, you want me to be your-- your--"
"I'm saying," he said slowly, "That I'm a one-girl kinda guy. You know?"
"Uh huh."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"Well, seeing as I'm girl number two right now for you, can you really blame me?"
"Extenuating circumstances."
"Ohhh, I love it when you use big words, Fordman."
He kissed her again without warning, far more ardently than before, making her whimper softly against his mouth. When he let go, they were both breathing significantly heavier than they had been before and her pupils looked impossibly huge in the moonlight.
But as obsessively preoccupied as he'd been about this all day, Whitney couldn't help turning serious again, and he leaned back onto his elbows with a hapless sigh. "I just want to be careful. I don't want to screw this up. For anybody."
"We'll be fine, Whitney. Everyone will be fine," she assured him, and after a moment's hesitation, she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Trust me."
He smiled, his nose nuzzling hers. "I do," he said truthfully.
Ultimately, Whitney wasn't sure whether he could fall in love with this weird girl who was sometimes infuriating, often outrageous, and always astounding-- but he was sure as hell more than willing to find out.
TBC...
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I totally lied. This time, there really is only one more chapter. It's all my betas' fault, for making me think so goddamn much and making me realize that huge transitions were missing from this story.
He wasn't really sure why he needed to see her so badly; he only knew that if he did see her, he'd feel better about-- well, everything. He'd at least caught on that Chloe had an mysterious ability to snap him out of the doldrums, and he was definitely in a funk after that disastrous talk with Lana.
Still, when he spotted her in the Beanery, her back turned to the entrance, he paused. He hadn't spoke more than a few words to her since *it* had happened. Since he'd lost his mind and asked her to kiss him, and since the shock of her agreement had made him lose control of his better judgment.
Since they'd briefly, sweetly made out in his pick up truck.
Whitney inhaled sharply at that recall, and decided to forge ahead. He'd faced down 250 pound linebackers before. He could certainly strike up a conversation with a freshman girl that barely hit the five-feet-tall mark.
He waited until he was directly behind her, and cleared his throat exaggeratedly, prompting her to turn her head in his direction.
"Oh," she said, completely unenthused. "Hey."
"Hey. Can I sit down?"
She hesitated ever so slightly before she said, "Sure. Why not."
He nodded and took a seat across from her. Chloe typed two more keystrokes, then sighed.
"Can we just fast forward through the awkward lull in the conversation and get to the part where you tell me what you want?"
He stared at the ceiling and sighted tolerantly. "Now, that is not fair. Why do you have to *assume* I want anything?"
She stared at him dubiously. "Call it woman's intuition."
"Well, you're wrong. I just happened to be wandering by, and saw you through the window and decided to say hello. Is that a crime?"
"Fordman, with all due respect, you are one miserably bad liar," she told him guilelessly. "Spill it. What'samatter-- have a fight with Lana?"
He lowered his gaze guiltily. "Kind of."
"You know, having never actually been in one, advice about relationships is not my forte," she said. "Although if you're actually looking for crappy and useless relationship advice, I'm sure one of your football buddies will be more than happy to provide that."
"I'm not looking for advice," he retorted defiantly.
"Ah, I see, so this whole Alpha Male I-don't-need-no-stinkin-map approach to driving that guys usually do extends to more personal matters in your case."
Whitney made a disgusted sound and stood. "Forget it. I don't need this. Come to think of it, I don't even know why I came here."
He started to walk past her as she breathed, "Bye."
Something in her voice gave him pause then, and he took a deep breath and decided to try again. Whitney found himself once again staring at her back, at the slope of the back of her neck, and absently noted that the pale peaches and cream skin had only a couple of small beauty marks, but was otherwise porcelain and creamy. So different from his own skin, which freckled and ruddied at the slightest exposure to sunlight.
He fought the urge to sidle up behind her and study the back of her neck up close. Instead, he mustered up every ounce of bravado and leaned on the back of her chair.
Chloe sat upright, expectant, but unmoving. "You're back," she said lamely, and was ever so glad he could not see her face at the moment.
"Yeah. I lied. I do know why I came here."
"Oh?" She fought to keep her tone as neutral as possible. "Why's that?"
His words came out very slowly, and so low that only she could hear-- and even she had to strain to hear them. Almost... purring. If Whitney were the type to purr. Which he wasn't.
"Because. I can't-- stop thinking about you. Since the other night."
She kept her very best poker face on as she spoke. "That's not good."
That made him let go of the chair back, and he asked stiffly, "Why not?"
"Because," she explained, her voice wavering, "You're otherwise spoken for. And she's my friend, for better or for worse. And-- I don't do things like that."
Whitney nodded, and she finally turned to face him, still sitting. Examining his expression carefully, she began: "Look. I would be lying if I said that what happened didn't affect me. But--"
"Can we talk somewhere else?" he asked uncomfortably, shifting his weight from foot to foot. He noticed too many familiar faces in the Beanery glancing their way questioningly, and when she followed his furtive glances around the room, she nodded her assent, packed up her belongings and followed him out the door.
The street was no better. A couple of people had the audacity to continue staring at them curiously through the Beanery's window, and it was no help that the Talon was within view as well. Chloe pulled Whitney into the space between the Beanery and the next building. It was hopelessly dark and suspiciously humid, but at least it was private.
"OK, speak," she ordered good naturedly. "I'm listening."
"I..." he closed his mouth and shook his head. "I don't know what to say. I just wanted to see you."
"What for?"
He shrugged haplessly. She sighed and looked at him, hard. "Is this about the kissing thing?"
He was glad she couldn't see the way he so easily flushed. "Sort of. I guess."
"Well, I guess I'm flattered that it apparently impressed you so much, but the bottom line is that you're still in love with someone else, and that's that."
He shook his head and grabbed her free arm gently. "It's not like that. I do still have feelings for Lana. But--"
She stared at him expectantly, but nothing was forthcoming.
Instead, he gave a shaky sigh and tried a wholly different tack. "Look, Sullivan, if you're going to make me admit I've got feelings for you without saying you have them for me too, well, then, I'm not even going to bother making an ass out of myself. I'll just—just leave right now." But he stood rooted to the spot, and much to his relief, he was rewarded with a slow smile spread across her face in the scant light.
"You," she said dubiously, "You have... feelings. For me."
He nodded helplessly, his eyes shining in the moonlight. Without warning, she threw her head back and laughed, a deep belly laugh that bowled her over enough to need to lean against the wall for balance. She laughed and laughed, until his eyebrows were knitted together in serious concern.
"This isn't exactly the reaction I was hoping for," he admitted.
That only made her laugh harder. "You're insane, you know that?" she cried. "Completely crazy."
"Wow. Ouch." He couldn't look at her just then. "I guess I'll be on my way now..."
"No!" She stopped him with her hand on his shoulder, still grinning. "God, you're such a nerd!"
"Chloe, I do *not* understand you sometimes."
"Shut up!" she laughed. "So, tell me more about these feelings. I mean, my ego would love to know that a single kiss from me turned your attention from the goddess that is Lana Lang to plain little old me--"
"--you're not plain, and it wasn't just--"
"Shut UP!" she said, and poked him in rapid succession in the shoulder. "However! However, I am having a hard time seeing this, I gotta be honest."
"I don't know. OK? You just make me feel... different."
"Different than what, pray tell?"
He thought for a moment, then looked into her eyes carefully. "It's like... before I started getting to know you, I was feeling really hopeless. You know? Everyone was feeling so sorry for me, with the scholarship thing, and--"
"You were feeling pretty sorry for yourself, too."
"Exactly," he admitted, abashed. "But you weren't like that. You just... challenge me all the time. I don't know. You don't let me get away with my crap about anything important."
"So you're telling me it actually turns you on when I give you a hard time," she asked dryly, but there was a teasing note in her voice.
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "Maybe a little."
"Mmm. I kinda like the sound of that." Her lips twisted into a wry grin. "I have to admit that you've been pretty challenging for me too. However, there's still that matter of you having a girlfriend."
"I don't know," he said, and kicked the ground self consciously. "I don't know if I'm ready to just walk away from that now, or what."
She nodded, disappointed, and it wasn't lost on him. "Are you ready to walk away from Clark?" he asked.
The question made her flinch, and she could only stare at him, all wide-eyed helplessness.
"But," he began, the words almost painful coming out, "I think there's... something there. Between us. I think it deserves to be given a chance too." But his words were met with a contemplative silence from Chloe, so he prompted, "Do you think so too?"
She smiled demurely at him. "Maybe." A thoughtful pause. "I'm afraid."
"What, of me?"
"Of-- yes." She sighed. "Of rejection and-- of not measuring up against Lana for one more guy."
"You think this is easy for me?" he asked softly. "I mean. I'm talking about. About starting something with you here. I don't know. And what if tomorrow Kent wakes up and realizes his best friend is actually pretty hot? Where's that gonna leave me?"
"You think I'm hot?" she murmured curiously, and the look he gave her made her shiver.
"You said you thought I was cute," he reminded her.
She rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall again thoughtfully. "I don't know what to tell you, Whitney," she said. "I don't know if we can do anything about-- about whatever the hell we've got here."
"I can't just break up with her for you," he said with dawning realization. "That'll mess up a lot, between a lot of people."
"Yeah," Chloe agreed. "We're such an incestuous little group, you know?"
Whitney gave her the strangest look. "I guess..." He waited and asked shyly, "Soooo... have you thought about me too? Or is this totally one sided or what?"
"Jesus, you're pushy," she muttered. Then she sighed. "Yeah, I thought about you. I didn't know what to think, actually. It's not like I have much in the way of experience when it comes to these things."
"Me either," he confessed. "Lana is the only serious relationship I've ever had."
"It's one more than me," she laughed, embarrassed suddenly.
"I don't mind." His voice was soft, gentle, a rare tone that put her at ease. "I just-- want to get to know you better. As a girl."
"As a girl?" she asked, feigning offense. "Oh. You mean, and not as the person who kicks your ass when you turn in your article late."
"Right." He added for good measure, "As more than a friend."
"You're not getting off my staff that easy, Fordman."
He laughed. "I said I'd be there till the end of the school year."
"Better be," she breathed, gazing up at him in the dim lamplight. She suddenly wondered if he, too, could feel the low hum of electricity between them. She realized it had always been there, only muted, and was only now allowing herself to really acknowledge it. It felt like a small dam bursting free.
"I will," he murmured, and the nearness of him suddenly made her heart pound in her ears.
"OK."
"I promise."
"That's good."
This time, when he leaned forward to find her lips with his, Chloe didn't push him away. This time, she raised her chin to meet him, her small arm sliding protectively around his neck, pulling him closer to her, till she was allowing him to gently pin her against the faintly clammy brick exterior of the building. She didn't even care that her book bag clunked to the ground around her feet, dimly aware that that was her laptop making the bulk of that sound. Her other hand was busy sliding around his waist, under his jacket, and the soft gasp he gave against her lips when her hand touched the small of his back thrilled her to no end.
After a brief moment, Whitney pulled back, smiling at her with open joy that she had only caught bare glimpses of before, and without warning, he grabbed her by the waist and spun her around in the alleyway midair with a great whooping sound. She laughed and shrieked and clung to him, but then she noticed his wide-eyed, terribly serious expression…
"Let's go somewhere else," he whispered somberly in his best deadpan. "It totally reeks back here."
Snickering, she let herself be led by the hand out of the alleyway and towards his truck, her book bag swinging behind her.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
It was remarkable how brightly the stars and moon illuminated the night without any streetlamps around. Chloe sat perched on the edge of the back of Whitney's truck, the back door dangling against the back of her legs. This was one thing in which she could honestly admit Smallville's superiority to Metropolis: In Metropolis, you couldn't see any stars without a telescope. Here, in a quiet, anonymous field, you couldn't see anything *but* stars as far as the eye could see.
"This is amazing," she half whispered. Whitney's upturned eyes glittered in the night's illumination as he nodded.
"Do you know what any of them are called?" he asked, gesturing with his chin towards the endless blanket of stars above them.
"No way," she laughed. "I suck at science."
"Me too."
"Uh. I think that one's the Big Dipper. Or the Little Dipper. I get them confused."
"Me too." He grinned at her and held her gaze, and she had to smile back.
"God, you're so tall," she mused. Suddenly, she shifted around onto her knees so that she was sitting on her legs. "There. Now I can look you in the eye without needing a neck brace."
He just kept on smiling, and said, "You're so pretty, Chloe. How come I never noticed before?"
"I keep telling you you're an idiot," she said, without a single trace of derision.
"I must be," he agreed. And his hand crept over hers, and he kissed her ever so gently, his thumb caressing her cheek almost as an afterthought. She kissed him back, sighing into him, and it took considerable self-restraint to push him away again.
"We came out here to talk," she reminded him. "My dad is going to be picking me up in less than an hour, so..."
He nodded and grew pensive. "I've been thinking."
"I'm worried already."
"Do you mind?" he asked flatly, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Take me seriously for a minute, OK?"
"OK. This is me taking you completely seriously."
He looked at her doubtfully, but went on: "Lana and me-- we've been one step away from breaking up for weeks. Before I started getting to know you, even."
"Yeah, I know." She met his surprised expression with, "Well, I've been getting the play by play from you-know-who."
He let out a tense breath and continued. "But. If you and me get together and then I finally break things off with Lana--"
She grimaced. "Oooh, potentially ugly scenario there."
"Exactly."
Chloe realized right then that she was in no mood to make demands, ultimatums, or even suggestions. She wanted to be able to be sure later on that whatever happened next was of his very own volition. She asked cautiously, "So what do you want to do?"
"I was thinking, if I break things off with Lana, and then you and I could get to know each other for a while without letting everyone know--"
"You mean, sneak around?"
"No. No. I mean, keep it quiet for a while."
"Ah. So actually, you mean sneak around."
He bit his lip. "Yeah. Well. Maybe. So that people won't think you broke us up."
"Wait, why is everyone going to blame me?"
"Because they just are," he said, his frustration mounting slightly. "You've got to trust me on this. This way, once everyone's over the fact that me and Lana aren't together anymore, we could come out about it in public."
"We? Like, you and me."
"Yeah."
"Oh. Um. About what?"
"About *us*."
"There's an 'us' now? Did I doze off during the part where you asked me about this, or what?"
"You don't want that?"
Instead of answering, she regarded him briefly, then punched him in the arm.
"Ow."
"So what are you saying, you want me to be your-- your--"
"I'm saying," he said slowly, "That I'm a one-girl kinda guy. You know?"
"Uh huh."
"What, you don't believe me?"
"Well, seeing as I'm girl number two right now for you, can you really blame me?"
"Extenuating circumstances."
"Ohhh, I love it when you use big words, Fordman."
He kissed her again without warning, far more ardently than before, making her whimper softly against his mouth. When he let go, they were both breathing significantly heavier than they had been before and her pupils looked impossibly huge in the moonlight.
But as obsessively preoccupied as he'd been about this all day, Whitney couldn't help turning serious again, and he leaned back onto his elbows with a hapless sigh. "I just want to be careful. I don't want to screw this up. For anybody."
"We'll be fine, Whitney. Everyone will be fine," she assured him, and after a moment's hesitation, she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Trust me."
He smiled, his nose nuzzling hers. "I do," he said truthfully.
Ultimately, Whitney wasn't sure whether he could fall in love with this weird girl who was sometimes infuriating, often outrageous, and always astounding-- but he was sure as hell more than willing to find out.
TBC...
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AUTHOR'S NOTE: I totally lied. This time, there really is only one more chapter. It's all my betas' fault, for making me think so goddamn much and making me realize that huge transitions were missing from this story.