"There are stars in her eyes, diamonds sitting on her lashes, and even more around her neck, and her outfit is worth thousands. Her eyes are like grass, her hair like a halo of gold, her smile able to deminish sadness completely. But she doesn't smile much, only at rare things that she really really loves."
You can't stop smiling at the thought of her. Can't stop talking to her. Dreaming about her. And everyone you know tells you what you must be feeling is love, that you are in love with her.
You deny it, of course you do. You, in love?
Certainly not.
And with her? How could you be? You don't see her often enough to be in love, do you? Love at first sight, they claim. Love at first light.
You don't know if that exists, but she makes you feel all the symptoms of it, and it scares you.
Lois told you that friends are dangerous, and your secrets make that even more true for you. You have secrets that could be your end, and to never ever ever tell. Not to anyone. And you don't. You don't have friends. You don't have family. You don't need love. But my god with her, this Cat Grant, you feel it. It is sick, really, and broken, and hurtful, to you at least.
Love is the same as friends. It's getting close to people, talking to people, and while you live amongst them, you are so scared of getting any closer. Even now, as you walk into the coffee shop where you work, and adjust your glasses on your nose as you do, to help with the overwhelming smell of coffee beans that assault your senses, my god, you find yourself wondering what life will bring you.
Somehow you make it, a tiny apartment, you and your cousin, who is now 7. You don't know how you manage it, barely making enough, but he seems happy, and you are too. Unless Cat is on your mind, which seems to be always, which makes you confused. You nearly stumble into a table and quite literally almost break it when you realize she's there. Waiting in line to order a coffee. You gather attention when you stumble, of course, and keep walking with your head down to the back to get your folded apron, muttering some Kryptonian curses under your breath, then clock in and make your way behind the counters to work, and conveniently you are in line to step up to the counter. You hope to god that you get to make a drink before she gets to the front, but whatever good luck have you ever had?
When she steps up to the counter, a 5 dollar bill in her manicured fingers, you whisper your greeting, a simple what could I get for you?, and everyone barely hears you. You don't hear you. You're hearing songs again, angels singing loudly about stars and beautiful eyes, and her lips part at the sight of you.
You haven't seen each other in more than a year, though clearly she hasn't forgotten you either. Her eyes are cold and hard as diamonds, and you notice the barest inkling of wrinkles which she perfectly hides with what has to be thousands of dollars worth of makeup, you can practically smell the money on her.
"I'll take a small latte with no foam and only half the vanilla. Oh, coconut milk in that." She saves you from your stumble, and if your heart hadn't been shouting at you to befriend her, to tell her something you don't dare admit, well, you might actually touch the right button on the till.
Eventually you manage to get it right, on the third try, and you can't hide the blush as she walks off, smiling as you hand the change back to her. Was that a spark when your fingers brushed hers? It certainly felt like flames.
