Clark woke slowly the next morning to the muted sounds of traffic and sirens and the everyday noises of a city. It took him a minute to remember where he was. Metropolis. Lois.
His eyes flew open. She was asleep beside him, curled on her side facing him, her dark hair spilling in her face. He rolled to his side gently, careful not to jostle her. He wanted a minute just to look at her before she woke up.
It was early, the pale morning light just starting to filter in through the window. His heart squeezed happily as his eyes drifted over her face. She must have gotten up at some point last night after he fell asleep to go to the bathroom and wash her face, because all traces of last night’s makeup were gone. She was so rarely still or quiet, usually rushing from one thought to the next, and she looked so young and innocent, laying there peacefully in the morning light. Seeing her like this seemed almost as intimate somehow than seeing her as he had last night.
His gaze settled on her lips for a minute, then drifted lower to the bare shoulder that poked out from under the comforter. His mind flashed back to last night, her gorgeous body almost completely bared for him. The way she clung to him as she cried out his name. Her hand on him, better than any fantasy he had ever concocted.
He felt his body twitch with interest, and he took a slow, deep breath and forced his mind away from the details of last night.
The whole night had exceeded his every expectation. Her reaction to his gift had completely melted him. She was so obviously thrilled, not just with the necklace itself, which she clearly loved, but with the sentiment behind it. He hadn’t meant to say so much about how precious she was to him, about the fortuitous timing of finding the pearl. But she had been so thrilled, so stunned with the fact that it was from the oyster, that he had to tell her.
They had very nearly not even made it to dinner after that. They were both so caught up in each other, longing to express their feelings without words, that they had almost skipped dinner and stayed in. He was so glad though that they had gone. Because it was perfect. She was perfect. The whole night, from the smile on her face when she saw the flowers, to the way she looked so stunning in her dress, to the fancy meal and the endless conversation, to the moment she took that bite of cheesecake off the fork he held for her and they both knew it was time to leave. It was the date he had dreamed of his entire life with the woman of his dreams.
And then after dinner. It was…. There were no words for what it was. It was the best night of his life. She had told him that she wasn’t ready to make love, but what she meant was that she wasn’t ready for sex. Because last night, they had made love. There was no other word for it.
Watching her sleep beside him, he was blown away by the intensity of his feelings for her after last night. He had already loved her so much for so long. He hadn’t imagined that a single night would increase that feeling so much. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him. And he loved her more than he had even known he could.
He needed her. He needed to spend his life with her. There was no going back now. Now that he knew what life was like with her, there could be no other life for him.
He had been happy before he met her. He had thought he was happy. But the thought of going back to that life now without her was nauseating. He imagined rambling around his house, watching tv and reading books and occasionally calling friends to catch up and felt so alone. He already missed her so much between visits, even with a steady stream of calls and emails. He couldn’t imagine how devastating it would be to lose her entirely.
“You look awfully serious for this early in the morning,” she teased quietly.
His mind jerked back to the present, his gaze sharpening. She was still curled up beside him, but awake and smiling at him.
“Hey,” he said, a wide smile spreading immediately across his face. “Good morning.”
“Good morning,” she said shyly.
He reached over and brushed her hair out of her face, unable to stop smiling. “How are you even more beautiful in the morning?”
She blushed and rolled her eyes. “What were you thinking about?” she asked softly.
“How much I love you,” he said honestly.
A flicker of worry passed over her face. “You looked awfully sad to be thinking about how much you love me.”
“No, honey,” he said, stroking her cheek. “I just got…distracted. You make me so happy. Happier than I’ve ever been.”
He could see the skepticism in her eyes, and his heart clenched. He didn’t want to hurt her. He never wanted to hurt her. He hated that whatever she had seen on her face made her doubt his feelings or worry about his reaction.
His smile gentled into something sweeter and more tender. “It’s a little scary,” he confessed quietly. “Loving someone so much.”
He watched as the concern in her eyes was replaced gradually with understanding. She nodded. “Yeah,” she said.
He scooted closer to her, sliding his hand under the covers to reach for her. She rolled toward him, resting her head on his chest and her hand on his stomach. His whole body was instantly on alert. She felt so good. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the softness of her breasts pressing against him. He smoothed his hand over her back, rubbing gentle, slow circles on her soft skin.
“Last night…” she started shyly.
“Was incredible?” he finished for her. “Was amazing? Was the best night of my life?”
She giggled, and he moved his hand from her back to her hair, stroking gently.
“Yeah,” she said. “All of that.”
“Yeah?” he asked lightly, suddenly needing confirmation that it was as good for her as it had been for him.
She was quiet for a minute, and he could feel her working up the bravery to tell him something. He stroked her hair and waited, trying to reassure himself that it wasn’t something he had done wrong.
“I didn’t know it could be like that,” she said finally, her voice soft and timid. He remembered suddenly her heartbreaking confession about not being good at sex. For just a second, he was consumed by anger toward whatever man or men had convinced her of that. Then he shoved that feeling aside, and focused on the present.
“Like what?” he asked. “What part of it surprised you?”
She paused, thinking, and he lifted his head and kissed her forehead.
“All of it?” she said. She paused for a minute and then went on. “I didn’t know…. I wasn’t nervous. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing. I wasn’t thinking about making a mistake or doing something wrong. I wasn’t in my head the whole time just trying to make it through without screwing up.”
“You did everything right,” he said. “You were…incredible.”
He felt her smile against his chest. “And…I could feel how much you wanted me, but…it was more than that.”
“I love you,” he said softly. “I do want you. I wanted you so badly last night. But it’s more than that. It’s always more than that for me, Lois. I want you because I love you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “I could feel that. I didn’t know I’d be able to feel that.”
“I waited a long time for you,” he said after a short pause. “You were worth the wait. This was worth the wait. You make me so happy.”
She was quiet for a few minutes, and he started to wonder if she had fallen back to sleep. He stilled his hand in her hair, resting it on her back instead. He sighed gently and rested his cheek against the top of her head. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall back to sleep, but he would happily lay here and hold her for as long as she slept.
“I wish I had waited,” she said softly, not asleep after all. He inhaled sharply, his heart aching for her.
“Oh, honey, no,” he said, struggling to find the right response. He didn’t care about her past, not the way other men might. He didn’t care how many men she had been with. He didn’t need to be her first. But he cared so much about the damage they had done to her heart.
“I don’t like to think about you hurting. I hate that the men you were with before didn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated,” he said finally. “But your experiences made you who you are. I'd like to think that…even if our lives had turned out differently, if we'd chosen different paths, we'd still have met. I feel like my heart would know yours, whatever our lives looked like. But I wouldn't want to take that chance, that any different decisions would lead to us never having met."
She lifted her head from his chest and pulled herself up onto her elbow to look at him. She was breathtaking, with her big doe eyes and sleep-tousled hair. Her movement shifted the blankets, and his gaze was drawn to her chest, where his necklace lay alone on the bare expanse of skin. His heart clenched seeing it like that. Her body, bared for him and so impossibly beautiful, with only the necklace that symbolized his love for her as adornment.
His gaze went back to her face, and he realized she was watching him tenderly, and he wondered if she had guessed what he was thinking.
“How do you always know the exact right thing to say?” she asked quietly. “How do you know what I need to hear?”
“I don’t,” he said quickly. “I never know if I’m saying the right thing. I’m just honest with you. I just tell you how I feel.”
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then curled against him again, sighing happily, and his conscience pricked at him. It was true that he had always been honest with her about his feelings. But he hadn’t been honest with her about everything.
There were still things she didn’t know about him… and it was time to deal with that. He couldn’t pretend there was any more reason to wait. He loved her. He wanted a life with her. She needed to know exactly who he was before their relationship went any further. He owed her that.
His stomach lurched at the thought of telling her, but it was time. He would talk to his parents when he got home, and then he would start planning how to tell her. And in the meantime, he would try to have faith that this love between them was strong enough to survive that revelation.
*****
“A little different from the Smallville town library?” Lois teased as his gaze swept past the large circulation desk to the towering three story staircase that wrapped around the main floor. The floors above were open, visible through the metal railings, and he could see row after row after row of bookshelves lining each floor.
“Just a little,” he said with a laugh.
They had spent the morning lounging in bed, drifting in and out of sleep, snuggling and whispering. When they finally emerged, they sipped coffee and talked about their plans for the day, and he had told her he wanted to cook for her – a real meal, not just pasta sauce thrown together because it was quick and easy.
It had been Lois’ idea to visit the international food market down by the docks, and he had leapt at the idea. He had asked for preferences or requests, and she had smiled and shrugged, asking instead that he make her something from his travels that he wanted to share. He had loved that idea, eager to share all his memories and experiences with her.
He had been running through a mental list of dinner options while flipping halfheartedly through a library book that had been laying on her end table when it fell open to the back, and he saw the date stamped on the card in the pocket was over a week old. When he pointed that out to Lois, she had shrugged ruefully and admitted she was behind on some errands.
He knew he was at least partially to blame – because she was hurrying home from work most evenings to spend time with him on the phone. So he had suggested they get her caught up before heading to the market. It had taken a little bit of convincing for her to believe that he really was just happy to run errands with her, but ultimately she had been persuaded.
“Do you want to look at anything while we’re here?” Lois asked, as she slid her book into the return slot at the circulation desk.
“No, that’s– Actually…cookbooks?” he said, interrupting himself. “There are a few dishes I can make from memory, but if I browse through some cookbooks, that might give me some extra inspiration.”
An adorable smile spread across her face. “We’re going to have to ask the librarian where to find those.”
He laughed, endlessly charmed by her ridiculous lack of culinary knowledge. And even more charmed by her complete lack of pretense.
A librarian was more than happy to help him find the correct section, and then even happier to escort him to the foreign language section when it occurred to him to ask about cookbooks written in the authors’ native languages.
Lois disappeared for a while, reappearing with a new biography of Abigail Adams. He heard the increasingly familiar sound of her heartbeat before she appeared, and his heart skipped a beat as he waited for her. She approached him from behind, sliding her free hand around his waist and pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade before resting her head against the same spot. His heart beat wildly in his chest, and he found it hard to imagine he could ever be happier than he was in that moment.
It was such a small thing, browsing library books together. But it was so easy to slide into this life with her: lounging around her apartment drinking coffee, dropping off her dry cleaning, picking up a package at the post office. It felt so normal. So natural. And he wanted it with a ferocity that surprised him.
He twisted around to face her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “Did you find something?” She stepped back and held up her book. “Good. You ready?”
She nodded. “Did you find a recipe?” she asked, craning to look at the book in his hand and then raising an eyebrow when she saw the cover. “Is that in Chinese?”
“Mandarin,” he replied. “I know you like dumplings. I thought we could see what looked good at the market and then we could make a few variations.”
“We?” she asked skeptically. “I can’t even follow a recipe in English, and you think I’m going to help you with this?”
He laughed again. “I’ll do all the recipe reading. You can just help me stuff the filling into the dumplings. It will be fun.”
She smiled and nodded, and he couldn’t resist leaning forward to kiss her cheek. She was so incredibly beautiful, and when she looked at him like that, all sweet and flirty, he lost all self control. She blushed and turned to go, but slipped her hand into his and held onto it the whole way to the circulation desk to check out their books.
It was a short drive to the food market, but the place was packed. Clark was impressed to see such a wide variety of both produce and packaged foods offered by the market. And he was especially happy they had decided to wait on lunch, since there was a large vendor area with stalls featuring fresh food ready to order.
They wandered the stalls first, snacking their way through the aisles.
“I can’t believe I haven’t been down here since college,” Lois said as she accepted a paper bowl of fried plantains from a vendor. “I don’t know why it never occurs to me.”
“The food market is always one of the first places I check out when I visit a new city,” he told her with a grin. “Priorities.”
She laughed. “Yes, I’m well aware of your priorities. What’s your favorite food market that you’ve visited?”
He took a minute to ponder all the options. “Bangkok, I think? So many amazing curries and chilies and noodle dishes. But it’s hard to choose just one. Morocco is amazing too. It’s in the shadow of this gorgeous four hundred year old mosque. There are amazing teas and spices at every stall, and all throughout the market are snake charmers and herbalists and musicians. It’s like stepping into a fairy tale.”
“That sounds amazing,” she said. “Like something out of Arabian Nights.”
“Exactly. It’s wonderful. Istanbul is famous for their Grand Bazaar – it’s the oldest and largest in the world. It’s not just a food market. It has everything you could ever imagine. But because of that, it’s become something of a tourist trap and it doesn’t have quite the same feel as some of the smaller markets. But…across the city there’s a separate spice market. And that…you’ve never seen – or smelled – anything like it. It’s just booth after booth of heaping bowls and baskets of spices, teas, dates, figs, nuts, and cheeses. It’s so beautiful and…delicious.”
She laughed again. “I read something the other day about modern wealth, and how we imagine that if someone from hundreds of years ago could be transported to today, it would be our technology they would be most shocked and impressed by. Cars, telephones, computers. But in reality, what would surprise them most would be our easy access to spices.”
He nodded his head. “Yeah, so many wars were fought, so many countries colonized…all in a quest for spices. I can only imagine how those rulers would be shocked by the contents of our spice cabinets.”
“Well…your spice cabinet,” she countered with a grin. “I hardly think they would be impressed with the contents of mine.”
“Do you even have a spice cabinet?” he asked, a little afraid of her answer.
“I have…a cabinet that has some spices in it. If by spices you mean salt and pepper. Also possibly cinnamon?”
“Cinnamon? How did you come to acquire that?” he teased.
“There was…a failed attempt at a pumpkin pie last Thanksgiving,” she admitted. “You can assure your mother I will not sully her Thanksgiving spread with that monstrosity this year. Oh god…I’m going to have to bring something to Thanksgiving…”
He laughed at the terrified look on her face. “We are going to have to bring something. It will be fine. My mom usually assigns me sweet potato casserole, and Sophie helps me put the marshmallows on top, but that can be your job this year.”
She gave him a dirty look and then broke out laughing. “Who am I kidding? That’s probably exactly my speed.”
His heart soared at the thought of her joining his family for Thanksgiving this year. It was always such a fun day catching up with family and friends. Family holidays had felt a little bittersweet the last few years though, as he watched everyone around him pair up and start their own families. He had thought for the longest time that he could never have what they had. That he would never find someone he loved or trusted enough to share his life – and therefore his secret – with them.
An automatic jolt of terror shot through him at the idea of someone else – anyone else – knowing his secret. But he had to tell her if he wanted a life with her. And more than that…he wanted to tell her. He thought back to that night under the stars, and the way she had asked if he thought there was life out there; the way she had said she thought that life would be “just like us”. He thought of her whispered dreams of flying. If he told her – if she knew – he could take her flying. He could give her that dream. And that was what he wanted more than anything: to make her dreams come true.
Maybe he would tell her when she came for Thanksgiving. Maybe Thursday night, or Friday morning. They would have the whole weekend to themselves, all of their social commitments already fulfilled, and he could take his time telling her everything about how he came to suspect he was different and how those suspicions had been confirmed and why he never told anyone. He could show her the globe.
He darted a sideways glance to look at her and felt his heart surge the way it always did when he saw her. She looked over, as if she felt his eyes on her, and smiled.
“I can’t wait for Thanksgiving,” she said softly.
“Me too,” he said, reaching out and resting his palm on the small of her back. “Hey, have you looked at flights? Do you know when you’re coming in? Because on Wednesday night, a bunch of us usually meet at the bar on the square. Everyone who has moved away and comes home for Thanksgiving usually stops by, so it’s a big reunion of sorts. I don’t know how early you can get off work or….”
He knew she was lucky to get the holiday off, and he didn’t want to be greedy. But he would so love to put in an appearance with her.
“I’ve got Wednesday off,” she said with a smile. “I can come in early. Or even Tuesday night if-”
“Yes!” he said eagerly, absolutely no desire to play it cool. “I want every second I can get with you. Come as early as you can.”
She laughed gently, clearly touched by his eagerness, and nodded. “Okay, I’ll come Tuesday night. It’ll be late. I can rent a car.”
He shook his head. “So I can sit home and go crazy waiting for you to get there? No thanks. I’ll pick you up.”
She stopped walking and turned to face him. Her free hand came up to caress his cheek, and he beamed at her, so unbearably happy just to be with her. This whole visit was a dream come true.
“I adore you,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you have any idea how happy you make me?”
“Let’s go finish our shopping and get out of here,” he said. “I really want to be alone with you.”
She arched an eyebrow and grinned suggestively.
“That is not what I meant,” he said with a laugh. “But…I wouldn’t complain.”
She laughed and turned, walking again, but he could see the rosy glow of her cheeks and her self-satisfied grin.
They made their way to the market, collecting first a variety of produce along with some fresh pork and shrimp and then the wrappers, vinegars, spices, and dipping sauces.
“This is…a lot,” Lois said, surveying the basket.
“Trust me,” he said with a grin. “You are going to beg me to make these again. Next time we’ll have everything we need except the fresh ingredients.”
They checked out and headed back to her apartment, where they put the groceries away and decided to go for a run. The day had started out chilly, but the early afternoon sun was warm and inviting, and Lois seemed excited to show him her favorite route through Centennial Park.
When he emerged from his bedroom in basketball shorts and a Smallville Tigers t-shirt, she was already dressed in black running leggings and a long-sleeved t-shirt, doing stretches on the living room floor. He joined her, sneaking a glimpse of her legs as she stretched her hamstrings.
She reached over and backhanded him playfully on the arm. “I see you,” she said with a laugh.
He turned to her, chagrined, and shrugged. “Can you blame me? My girlfriend is smoking hot. I just want to look.”
She stood and balanced on one foot, grasping her other foot behind her back. “Play your cards right, and you can do more than look,” she teased.
He stood too, and she dropped her foot and took a step toward him, sliding her arms around his neck. His hands went to her waist automatically as he leaned down to kiss her. He had expected it to be a little peck, but after behaving themselves all day, neither of them was satisfied with that.
Her tongue traced his lower lip, and he parted his lips in invitation, letting his hands slide down, tracing her curves in those tight pants. She tightened her grip on his neck, pulling their bodies flush together, and he groaned at the contact. She felt so good. He wanted to feel her again like he had last night. He wanted to see her beautiful body in the light of day.
She finally pulled away, out of his embrace, and they were both breathing heavily. “You promised me a run,” she said, the shake in her voice betraying her as she tried to tease him.
He nodded, trying to pull himself back into the moment. If she wanted a run, he would give her a run.
Her face turned tender as she watched him nod, and she stepped forward and kissed him on the cheek. “Later,” she whispered against his cheek, then she stepped away, and his heart jumped at the prospect.
He followed her out into the hall and then down to the street, where they started to jog to warm up. By the time they reached the entrance to the park, they were both itching to pick up some speed. He let her set the pace, and unlike their race in Smallville, she made no effort to best him, and they just ran alongside each other easily.
The trees were at their most glorious, all reds and yellows and oranges, and the park looked picturesque, filled with families picnicking in the afternoon sun.
She pointed out landmarks and favorite spots along the way, including other paths she took for shorter or longer runs. And again he found himself slipping into a comfortable familiarity, imagining a world where this was their everyday life.
He wanted nothing in the world more than a life where they spent their Saturdays catching up on errands, running in the park, and making love before dinner. Could he possibly be that lucky? Could she really love him enough to look past all that made him different? Would she still look at him like that once she knew who he really was?
“And…we’re back!” she said, as she turned left back onto the main path through the park. Sure enough, up ahead was the metal arch with the park’s name where they had entered forty minutes ago.
“That was great,” he said, slowing to a jog.
“So much better than the gym on a day like this,” she agreed.
They slowed to a walk, then stopped to stretch a bit before continuing toward her apartment.
“What do you want to do tonight?” she asked softly. “Besides dinner, I mean. It’s your last night.”
His heart twisted in his chest. “I can’t believe it’s already my last night,” he said. “That went so fast.”
She nodded, but didn’t say anything, and he knew she was feeling it too. It was always so hard to leave her. So hard. But this time…. After last night…. He didn’t know how he could possibly walk away and not see her or touch her for a month.
“Let’s just stay in,” he said. “We can…watch a movie or something. I just want…I just want to be with you. No…distractions. No audience.”
She nodded immediately. “That’s good. We can rent a movie, if you want. There’s a place right down the street. We could walk there after dinner and pick something out.”
“That’s perfect,” he said. He saw the sharp lines of her shoulders, the stiffness in her posture, and decided to try to lighten the mood. There was no sense wasting the rest of the time together anticipating the goodbye. “I think, though, it’s my turn to pick the movie. I sat through The American President for you. Now you can watch…Rocky with me.”
“Rocky?” she exclaimed, clearly gearing up for diatribe. He smiled. Mission accomplished. “First of all, you loved The American President. Don’t even try to deny it. And secondly…Rocky? Ugh, I hate boxing.”
“What? You hate boxing? Since when? What happened to Miss You’re Thinking of Mason-Ramirez?”
“I didn’t say I don’t know anything about boxing. I just said I hate it. It’s so…brutal. I’m totally game to watch a sports movie, but can’t we watch a football movie? Like School Ties or Rudy?”
“School Ties?” he said skeptically as her apartment building came into view. “You just want to watch that because Brendan Fraser is in it.”
“Doesn’t hurt,” she said with a wink. He pretended to be offended, and she laughed. “Oh, please. You’re way cuter than he is.”
“Good answer,” he teased, reaching an arm around her waist and squeezing her hip affectionately.
“What’s your objection to Rudy?” she asked.
“No objection,” he said. He slid his hand from her hip to the small of her back and as they started up the front steps of her apartment building. “I’ve just never seen it.”
“You’ve never seen Rudy?” she said incredulously. “You have never seen Rudy?”
“You can say it as many ways as you like, it’s not going to make it any less true.”
“How? Why?” she stuttered. “You would love it.”
He laughed. “I have no idea. I just haven’t gotten around to it. We can rent that if-”
He heard the clicking sound first. The unmistakable metal snick of a gun‘s safety being clicked off.
And then everything was in slow motion. He heard the click of the trigger and whooshing of the bullet in the chamber repeated again and again as they sped through the air, headed straight for them.
Last edited by AnnieM; 07/29/22 12:24 AM.
