Kiss Me Chapter 4, a smallville fanfic

DISCLAIMER: NOT MINE. I OWN NOTHING.

KISS ME

oXo

CHAPTER FOUR

CLARK

I stare at her. I've never seen a human being who looks like her – and I'm from Kansas – where All-American Harvest Festival Miss Sweet Corn Pageant contestants go to spawn. But this girl isn't just beautiful. She's…perfect…in a way that's unreal – like an Egyptian goddess or Disney Princess Barbie.

What I'm saying is, this girl…

"Dude, she's freaking hot," Oliver finally says.

Yeah. That.

She's lying on the floor with these silky dark chocolate colored curls all around her, like some magical creature snuck in while she was sleeping and arranged them that way – maybe a Keebler elf or an Oompa Loompa. Her body – I can tell even in her long flowy dress – is totally…perfect. She's taller than almost everyone else here, and thin…in all the right places…and curvy in others…with these great pair of…

"Legs! Did you look at her legs?" Oliver interrupts my thoughts again.

Those too. They seem to go on for miles…and would wrap perfectly around my waist. I stare at the top of her dress – which she's really filling out, let me tell you – with these great…am I drooling? 'Cause my mouth is hanging open. I feel this incredible urge to touch her, but I know it's creepy and wrong and probably criminal because she's comatose.

But the weird thing is…it's actually not her body I notice the most. It's her face.

Her skin is the color of milk with just the tiniest bit of strawberry Nesquik mixed in her cheeks. Her eyes are closed, but I can tell they're huge, with long dark eyelashes that curve upward.

And her mouth. Her lips are full and plump and crimson red…and definitely don't look like lips that haven't seen cherry Chapstick in hundreds of years.

For some reason, my brain starts cataloguing everything about her and compares her to Lana. Not that she looks like Lana, because she doesn't. Lana's pretty in a normal, human way. But, Lana has nothing on this girl. Compared to this girl…Lana's short, push-up bra chopped liver with a strange snaggle tooth.

And somehow, just looking at her, I know she isn't anything at all like Lana. She wouldn't dump her boyfriend for keeping secrets or try to guilt him or trick him into telling her. She would wait. Somehow…I know she would. She would wait for me.

"You're staring like an idiot." Oliver says.

I know I am.

"Let me guess…love at first sight?" he jokes.

I think it is.

Weird. And stupid. I'm an idiot.

"She's totally passed out. You could…" Oliver looks at the door. "…do anything."

"That's sick. Don't be a pervert."

"You know you were thinking about it."

"No, I wasn't. That would be creepy and wrong and probably criminal." Which is what I was thinking…when I thought about touching her.

"Right and wrong's getting kind of fuzzy for me here in the Land of Make Believe. Was it wrong to ditch the school museum Tour of the Damned? Was it wrong to lie to evil event organizer Maddie? Was it wrong to sneak into this girl's time-out room? I mean seriously – there's no furniture and she's on the freaking floor. She's obviously being pun-ish-ed."

I sigh and roll my eyes. I keep looking at the girl. I can't stop looking at her.

"Come on. I dare you to touch her."

"Nu-uh."

"Come on, dude. I double dare you."

"Nope. That's a hard pass."

"I triple dog dare you."

"Man, that isn't fair – you skipped one!"

"Stop being a wuss and just do it. You know you want to."

"Okay." I do want to. I lean toward her, wishing she'd open her eyes.

I reach down and touch one of her curls. Soft. So soft. And silky. I comb my fingers through it to make it last. She stirs in her sleep, and I imagine she's enjoying my touch – that it's waking her.

"Not her hair, dork. She can't even feel her hair. Touch something else. Give her something she can feel. To let her know your love is real." He's trying not to laugh. Jackass.

I roll my eyes. "One...you're not funny. Two…did you just quote Sparkle?"

"It's a highly underrated musical." Oliver shrugs.

"She's dead asleep just like everyone else."

"So why risk being thrown in a rat-infested dungeon for her hair – even a lion's mane like that? Why not touch an important part? Like a Joan Jett part."

"Really man?"

"We've been here too long…tryin' to get along…pretendin' that you're oh so shy…"

"Dude, seriously?"

"Cry at night….no one in sight…an' we got so much to share…"

"Will you please shut up?"

"Every girl an' boy…needs a little joy…all you do is sit an' stare…"

"Alright! Enough!"

"Do you want to touch her there?"

"Where?"

"There!"

"No wonder you have a bad reputation." It's not because Oliver says to. It's because I do want to touch her there. I move my hand back up the length of her hair to her…face. Where'd you think I was going? Hey, I'm not a pervert. Plus I can't stop looking at it.

It feels like—man, I just lost my man card—flower petals. I move my finger across her cheek, to her mouth, tracing her lips. They're parted slightly, and suddenly, I can't keep from admitting it – I do want to touch her there. Her mouth. But not with my fingers…with my lips. I want to kiss her. I totally want to molest her with my mouth. Crazy, because five minutes ago I was completely thinking I wasn't a creep who would commit some sort of assault, but I really want to risk going to jail for kissing this comatose chick. I lean closer…and graze her cheek.

"Not her cheek! Are you for real?" Oliver leans down. "Get out of the way. I got this. Get ready to have your socks knocked off, Legs."

"No!" I block him. Like a linebacker. I stand. "Look, I want to kiss her okay – but not in front of an audience. Why don't you go downstairs and…uh…steal those crowns? This sleeping beauty and I need some time alone."

"Dude, you cannot be serious."

"Wanna bet?" I can put the stolen crown jewels back later. "Just give me ten minutes."

"I'll give you five. I'm not letting you make out with her when she can't even move her tongue. It's like kissing a mannequin." He starts toward the door and then turns back. "Hey, you at least gonna cop a feel?"

I sigh in frustration. "Of course not. What kind of guy do you think I am?"

"One with home field advantage. Don't let the team down. The male gender is counting on you to hit a double and slide into second."

"Get out before I hurt you."

He leaves and I'm alone in the room except for the girl. I touch her silky hair again, and her pink cheek – now that I can do it without Oliver making me feel pervy. She sighs softly in her sleep. She's so beautiful – I wish she'd wake up so I could see her eyes, her smile.

Maybe I could wake her up – like in that story about the chick with mining midgets.

It was my cousin's favorite fairy tale, so of course I knew the story. It's about a princess whose step-sisters lock her in an attic because she steals her step-mother's dress and eats all her apples. The midgets she hangs out with think she's dead so they put glass shoes on her and put her body high up in a tower in a coffin made from a pumpkin. But then the prince slays the dragon who's also a witch and climbs up the chick's hair to the tower and discovers she's choking on one of the apples she stole from her step-mother 'cause karma's a bitch. He does a finger sweep, removes the apple, performs mouth-to-mouth, she's resuscitated…and they live happily ever after.

Piece of cake. Or piece of apple. I'd feel less like a sicko if I think I'm trying to save her life.

I stick my fingers in her mouth to feel for the apple. Nothing. Huh. Okay…onto the next step. I raise her up toward me. Her body is warm, and her dress is made of this soft flowing material, and when I pull her close, I can feel her heartbeat. I wish I could see her eyes. I wish I knew her name.

It's kind of a low blow to kiss a girl if you don't know her name.

"This is low," I whisper to myself.

She sighs in her sleep and sort of…smirks? Is that a smirk? Is she smirking at me? "Now that's low."

Her smirk expands into a grin. She thinks this is funny. Is she laughing at me? "So low."

She sighs again and I swear it sounds like an answer. I pull her toward me, one hand tangled in her hair, supporting her head. I bring my face close to hers, and it's like I can see her whole life – being in this castle, isolated, wishing for something more. I don't know how I know it…I just do.

My lips are on hers. Her sigh turns into a slight gasp, so I slip my tongue past her lips and deepen the kiss. I hold her closer, feeling her hair, her body, her mouth – and then her hands in my hair.

What the—?

Beggin' on my knees

Baby, won't you please

Run your fingers through my hair

I don't want to stop kissing her – especially since she's kissing me back and Joan Jett is egging me on in my head thanks to Oliver– even if it's in her sleep. Still, I should pull away from her to allow her to breathe. Before I can, she bites my lower lip.

"Dammit. That's really low." I open my eyes to glare at her and look straight into hazel ones.

"Really what?" she sighs. Then the hazel eyes widen.

And that's when she screams.