"So when do I get to meet that mystery man of yours, anyway?" Martha asked as they stepped out into the sunshine later.

"Not at all," Carol said decidedly.

"Thanks a lot."

"Nothing against you, sweetie. But he doesn't know I'm a college student, and I'd like to keep it that way. I'm masquerading as a fascinating older woman. And you'd be sure to blurt something out and give me away."

"Oh, it's one of those relationships based on honesty," Martha remarked dryly. "Should be a huge success." Looking sideways, though, she had to admit to herself that if anyone could pull off an act like that, it was Carol. Her friend's striking features and sophisticated clothes made her appear mature beyond her years. Even her tendency to say whatever came into her head gave her an air of fearlessness and daring that attracted more people—especially guys—than it put off.

"Martha, when you've got a chance to land an incredibly wealthy, charming, attentive bachelor, honesty suddenly moves way down on your list of priorities."

"Um—yeah." Martha suddenly sounded distracted. "Carol, you go ahead, all right? I just remembered something. . . ." She trailed off vaguely.

Carol followed her gaze across the courtyard to where the tall "hayseed" sat on the edge of a stone fountain, eating an apple and glancing through a textbook. "Sure you did," she replied good-naturedly. "Well, you've got a nice, romantic setting there. Why don't you go sweep him off his feet?"

"Very funny." Martha started to walk towards the fountain, adding primly over her shoulder, "Besides, PDAs are disgusting."

"Depends on if it's you or someone else," Carol pointed out sagely. "See you for lunch?"

Martha nodded without looking back. Her heart was pounding so hard she felt slightly dizzy. What am I doing? I don't know this guy from a hole in the ground! What am I even gonna say to him? The answer that occurred to her sounded incredibly stupid, but it was all she could think of.

As she approached, the young man glanced up and got quickly to his feet. Martha gulped. She couldn't remember the last time one of the "duty dates" had stood up for her. The simple courtesy threw her, even further than she'd already been thrown.

"Um—hi. I think you were in Dr. Forrester's class, right?" She found herself craning her neck a little as she spoke. He was even taller than she'd realized.

"That's right," he answered in a voice that was deeper than she had expected, smiling again. "I remember seeing you."

You mean you remember me acting like a nincompoop. Martha forced that thought to the back of her mind. She spoke slowly, concentrating on each word, determined not to make a fool of herself again. "I was just wondering—I think I missed a couple of points in the lecture. Could I please borrow your notes?"

The young man seemed to hesitate just for a fraction of a second. Or was it only her guilty conscience? He saw me talking to Carol—he's gonna ask why I didn't borrow her notes. Or maybe he knows I'm the—

"Sure." His voice cut through her panicky speculations as he handed her his notebook.

She took it, still feeling dazed. The strangest thought had come into her mind, turning her face hot again. Desperately she searched for something to say. "You don't even know my name. How can you be so sure I'll bring it back?"

He shrugged a bit. "I prefer to believe in people." His blue eyes twinkled at her. "You do have a name though, right?"

"Of course—I'm sorry." Martha hastily shifted her books to her left arm and held out her hand. "Martha Clark."

"Jonathan Kent." He shook her hand firmly. "Nice to meet you, Martha."

"You too." He wasn't letting go of her hand, and that was making it even harder for her to think straight. She had to end this conversation before her brain shut down completely and she turned into a babbling idiot. "I'll, um, get this back to you. Thanks."

Jonathan nodded politely and finally released her hand. Although that was the result she'd been trying to achieve, Martha was conscious of a distinct feeling of disappointment. She managed to give him what she hoped was an alluring smile and not an imbecilic grin as she turned to walk away.

She hadn't taken half a dozen steps before she realized she was in for it. Carol was standing at the exit from the courtyard, well within earshot of the fountain, doubled over with laughter. Martha summoned up what little dignity she could and walked towards her, head high, but with her cheeks still flaming.

"I can't believe you just did that!" Carol gasped.

"Shut up!" Martha hissed. "He'll hear you!" She grabbed her friend's arm and dragged her down the sidewalk, away from the courtyard.

"'I think I missed a couple of points,'" Carol mimicked in a high, mincing voice. "What're you gonna do when he finds out you're the note-taker?"

"He's not going to find out," Martha replied, giving her a long, meaningful look. "Not unless you want me to start answering every phone call with 'This is Carol's apartment at Metropolis University. Did you know she's a college student?'"

"All right, all right." Carol wiped tears of laughter from her eyes. "It's worth it anyway, just to see you go after a guy. I can see the headlines now: 'Martha Clark Ambushes—' What was his name again?" She pulled the notebook out of Martha's hands and flipped it open. "Nice name. Kent. Goes real well with Martha."

"Oh, give me that." Martha snatched the notebook back and walked faster as Carol dissolved into giggles again. The corners of her own mouth were twitching over the whole absurd situation, but she wasn't about to let her friend see. And not for anything would she have told Carol the thought that had struck her as she'd looked at Jonathan Kent—the thought that was still haunting her as she walked across the campus toward her next class.

TBC . . .