From Part 3
With shoulders slumped, I crept to the refrigerator. When I opened it, I remembered that I had already used up the last chocolate chip ice cream in the previous night. I cursed, first under my breath and then loud enough for all my neighbors to hear.
"Bloody hell. How am I supposed to get on like this?" I wrestled with my destiny. Another dream like this, Clark in the same hotel room and no chocolate chip ice cream in sight – I was bound to lose my mind. If that had not already happened, that was. "Lois Lane, you have to forget about that partner of yours!" I tried to encourage myself. Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.
Only in my dreams
Part 4
Anxiously, I watched the big hand of my clock that relentlessly moved towards twelve. It seemed like ages ago that Clark had warned me not to try anything funny, when we had shared the honeymoon suite at the Lexor. I missed his good-natured teasing. For weeks now he had barely even smiled or if he did, it was at Mayson Drake. His unnerving brotherly way of treating me had turned into the even more annoying professional relationship that we now shared. I straightened my shoulders and tried to prepare myself for whatever this weekend would have in store for me. Mad Dog Lane would not waver. I had to forget how I felt for my partner, though... or just because he lately chose to ignore me.
But my brave face fell the moment Clark knocked at my door. A quick glance into the mirror confirmed what a sorry picture of misery I was. The last night - and especially the dream - had taken their toll. I would have liked to smash the mirror into millions of pieces for showing me something like this.
"Lois, are you ready?" Clark asked, his voice muffled by the door. He sounded impatient, as if he would prefer being anywhere but in front of my apartment.
"Yes," I replied, hoping my voice did not tremble.
I glanced at the packed travel bag that looked back at me menacingly, reminding me of the impending departure. Presumably, even the prospect of a Pulitzer would not have made this step any easier. Not that there was any chance of getting an award for the story we were supposed to write. Perry had every intention of making his "hottest team in town” work again, no matter what. There was no arguing about that, try as I might. And honestly, however insane that was, I really hoped that Perry’s plan would work out. I wanted to know what it was about Mayson that Clark liked and why he suddenly hated me so much.
Before gathering my bag, I took another deep breath, squared my shoulders and went to the door. It was like I was walking to the scaffold. I knew that I was being hysterical. It was Clark out there, my partner, my best friend. That could not have changed completely, or had it?
When I stood in front of him, I realized that this was indeed becoming a nightmare, a torturous one at that. My partner wore tight black jeans that perfectly accentuated his hips. A black shirt stretched over his chest muscles. He had left a few buttons open, revealing his olive tanned skin. Every inch of him was like I had imagined in my dreams. My mouth went dry and I knew that I would talk nonsense, should I try to say something.
"Hello, Lois," Clark greeted me and even managed a wry smile.
Although it was nothing like the thousand-watt smiles I had come to love so dearly, even this small gesture made my heart beat loudly in my chest. Inwardly, I cursed myself that my heart suspected reason for hope where there was none.
"You look great," Clark continued, sounding so polite, that I wondered whether he had practiced those words.. "I’ll take the heavy bag," he offered and did not wait for me to protest. For no more than a split second, he actually crossed the threshhold to my apartment. Then he turned around with the luggage in his hand and walked down the stairs.
I locked the door behind me and followed him. My heart pounded and my stomach churned at the thought of the many hours and probably even days that lay ahead. Clark would certainly torture me with hours of sweet talk with Mayson, while I would irrevocably become a nutcase. Why had I not been the one complaining about Perry’s assignment? I vaguely remembered that Mad Dog Lane would have handled things very differently. But that was before I broke my own vow never to fall in love with the wrong man again. The real problem was that I was not likely to get to breaking rule number three. Sharing a room would undoubtedly be the first step on a painful way to lunacy.
to be continued...
