Chapter 3: “A Kiss Is Just a Kiss”

 

When Clark finished his chores, he ran into the house and picked up the telephone. He had been trying to reach her all day to no avail. Clark figured she had slept in. “Hello?”

 

“Where have you been? Are you feeling better?” Clark asked.

 

“I was in town. And yes, I am. Thanks for asking.”

 

“Good. I need some help.”

 

“With what?”

 

“Don’t laugh.”

 

Chloe was already giggling. “You know I can’t guarantee that.”

 

“OK, I need help picking out some clothes for tonight.”

 

Chloe’s heart sank. She pushed the feeling away and replied, “I didn’t know this was a date. I thought Lana and Whitney just broke up. Horning in on the rebound?” She tried to keep her voice casual and teasing.

 

Silence. Then, “I just want to look nice. Can you come over around five-thirty?”

 

“As much as I enjoy poring through your endless supply of flannel shirts, I can’t. I’ve got a date tonight. A real one,” she added.

 

It seemed that Clark was a little slow on the uptake today because there was another pause before he said, “Really? Who?”

 

“Jorge Costa,” Chloe said, rolling the R dramatically. “He’s an intern at the Ledger.”

 

“OK,” Clark said dubiously. “Have fun.”

 

“You, too.”

 

Clark hung up and dialed Pete’s number. “Hey, Pete? I’ve got a favor to ask …”

 

***

 

Clark nervously rang the bell at the Potter-Lang house. He smoothed imaginary wrinkles from the front of his shirt and fidgeted nervously. Pete had chosen a pair of khakis, short-sleeved navy blue polo and clean sneakers. Clark thought he looked straight out of the Abercrombie & Fitch catalog, but Pete said that was a good thing.

 

The door opened and he faced Nell Potter. “Uh, hi, Ms. Potter,” he said nervously. “I’m here to pick up Lana.”

 

Nell raised an eyebrow and opened the door wider to let Clark inside. “Lana, you’ve got company!”

 

“Be down in a minute!” Lana yelled down the stairs.

 

Nell showed him into the living room, where he sat down on the couch. The TV droned the news faintly, the air conditioner hummed. Nell sat at a rollaway desk and punched numbers in an adding machine, which buzzed and whirred rhythmically. Clark picked up an Architectural Digest from the coffee table and thumbed through it. He placed it back on the table and looked around. Nell didn’t look like she was in the mood for small talk. Clark leaned back on the sofa.

 

Ten minutes later Lana came down the stairs, practically running. She was wearing navy capri pants and a red blouse with brown sandals. A small brown leather purse dangled from her wrist.

 

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said, hastily tying her long black hair into a ponytail. “I was on the phone.” She turned to Nell. “Clark and I are going to watch the revival of ‘Casablanca’ at the multiplex, then have a snack at the Talon.”

 

“We should be back by eleven,” Clark added.

 

Nell gave a cryptic little smile and turned back to her number-crunching. Clark gave Lana a questioning look, but all she did was sigh, roll her eyes and head for the door.

 

***

 

Lana was surprised when Clark held her door open when she climbed into the truck. Such a gentleman, she thought. She wasn’t sure whether she should tell him that she had been on the phone with Whitney, and that was why she had been a little late coming downstairs. It wasn’t Whitney’s fault that he no longer felt at ease with his former football teammates. Lana was his only confidante these days, and she felt guilty for not having been the model girlfriend that he needed. The least she could do was offer her ear whenever he needed to vent about his father’s illness or his plans to attend community college, which he was still ambivalent about. In a way Lana was for Whitney what Clark was for her.

 

Lana sighed. Her relationship with Clark was so blurred between the line of friend and potential boyfriend that she believed there was no real definition of what they had, no matter what she had told him the night before. When Clark started the engine, loud rock music blared from the speakers, and she took that as a sign to keep quiet. Besides, the remnants of her relationship with him shouldn’t come into play if ever she and Clark would decide to … She stopped herself from going down that line of thought. She and Whitney had just broken up. She and Clark were friends right now, nothing more. She stole a sideways glance at him. He was drumming his fingertips on the steering wheel in time to the music. She fidgeted. She needed to be distracted from her thoughts.

 

Impulsively she turned down the volume on the radio. “It’s hard to talk with the radio so loud,” she said brightly.

 

Clark looked slightly annoyed, but he stopped drumming. “What do you want to talk about?”

 

“I heard you went to Metropolis for a couple of weeks with Chloe,” Lana said. “How was it?”

 

Clark hesitated. He couldn’t possibly tell Lana about the experience he had had with Chloe. First, of course, there were the secrets that they had revealed to each other. Second, he wanted to keep his friendship with Chloe separate from whatever he had or was going to have with Lana. Talking about Chloe with Lana was a strange feeling. From the time he had become friends with Lana they had had an instant connection. But Chloe understood him in ways that Lana might never know or understand. It was a strange feeling because Clark had underestimated Chloe, but he would never admit that to anyone out loud. Least of all to Lana, for whom he knew Chloe still harbored ambivalent feelings.

 

“It was fun,” Clark said finally. “Her grandparents took us to the symphony, and we went to a ball game, the museums. And the Daily Planet offices, of course. Chloe’s got a lot of surprises up her sleeve.”

 

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me,” Lana said. “I knew she had to be more than reporting and the Torch.”

 

“Yeah,” Clark said simply. He parked in the multiplex’s parking lot and walked around to open Lana’s door.

 

When they reached the box office, Lana put her hand on Clark’s as he opened his billfold.

 

“What are you doing?” she asked.

 

“Paying for our tickets,” Clark said matter-of-factly.

 

Lana shook her head. “I invited you. I’m paying.”

 

Clark looked unsure. “I don’t know …”

 

“All right,” Lana said. “We’ll compromise. I’ll get the movie; you pay for popcorn and Icees.” Clark still looked uncertain, but Lana held his gaze.

 

“Deal.” Clark relented. Lana grinned and pushed her twenty-dollar bill toward the cashier.

 

***

 

The Talon was crowded when Lana and Clark entered, and despite Lana’s finagling, they had to wait for a table. They stood outside in the humid Kansas night.

 

“How did you like the movie?” Clark asked. Despite the movie being a classic, this was Clark’s first time seeing “Casablanca.” He had to admit, black and white movies in all their simplicity had a certain magic to them.

 

Lana smiled and shrugged. “It was romantic. Given the circumstances, it was really sad. I really wanted her to stay with Humphrey Bogart.” She looked at Clark and giggled.

 

“I would have gone with Laszlo,” said an amused female voice behind them.

 

They turned around. Chloe stood there with a man that Clark assumed had to be Jorge. His arm was draped over Chloe’s shoulder. Chloe was grinning. Clark noticed she was wearing a Hawaiian-printed sundress that was very short, and she had shunned her military boots in favor of black strappy sandals. This was a first. The last time Clark remembered her without her trademark boots was to go to the symphony in Metropolis.

 

“Jorge, this is Clark Kent, and Lana Lang. Guys, this is Jorge Costa. He’s an intern at the Ledger.” Chloe looked quite proud of herself, but not so much so that she was rubbing it in.

 

Clark and Lana shook hands with Jorge. Clark looked at him warily. He seemed like a nice guy, but Clark was always suspicious of the guys who were interested in Chloe. It wasn’t like she had the best track record. Despite all that, Jorge seemed nice and normal. Clark decided to give him a chance, while keeping a close eye on them.

 

“It’s crowded tonight, isn’t it?” Chloe asked, gesturing to the Talon.

 

“Why don’t you join us?” Clark suggested. “If that’s OK with you, Lana.”

 

“Of course. I’ll go inside and tell them to make it a table for four,” Lana said, nodding.

 

“Could you show me where the bathroom is?” Jorge asked.

 

“Sure.” Lana and Jorge headed inside.

 

Chloe and Clark didn’t say anything as they watched the cars pass by on the street. Finally Clark said, “Were you guys at the movie, too?”

 

Chloe looked up at him and grinned. “Yes, we were. We were sitting in the back. I saw you and Lana come in and sit tenth row center.”

 

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

 

Chloe shrugged. “Wanted to give you some privacy. I didn’t know you guys were coming to the movie.”

 

“Would you really have gone with Laszlo?”

 

Chloe’s eyes narrowed. “Do you want the official Chloe Sullivan breakdown, or do you want the everyday movie-watcher opinion?”

 

“The breakdown, of course,” Clark said.

 

“The breakdown of what?” Lana asked. She and Jorge had come back outside.

 

“The official Chloe Sullivan critique of ‘Casablanca,’” Clark told her.

 

Chloe sighed. “Well, the problem was with the story itself, really. There was no other way for it to end the way it did. The movie came out in 1942. Which means Ilsa better be ready to help her husband save the world, not hanging out in some skeezy casino in Casablanca.”

 

“Tell them why you’d rather go with Laszlo,” Jorge prompted, a smile playing at his lips.

 

“Because he’s the man I would have fallen in love with,” Chloe said.

 

Clark raised his eyebrows. Lana looked confused. They were interrupted by a server who told them their table was ready.

 

“But Humphrey Bogart’s character was romantic,” Lana argued when they were seated. “He was all about making her happy and giving her a good, safe life.”

 

“That’s what I said,” Jorge butted in.

 

“Oh, he was a bum by taking the easy way out by chilling in Casablanca,” Chloe said bluntly. “The way I see it, Laszlo was just more exciting. They just didn’t portray him that way. He was saving the world. I would have been right there next to him helping him do that. Rick owned a bar. Boring! But I’m not saying it wasn’t a good story. The United States just entered the war during that time, and if Ilsa had stayed with Rick the movie would have been unpatriotic and sucky. And without the romantic conflict there would be no movie.”

 

“All about the adventure,” Jorge said, looking at Chloe admirably. “James Bond, look out. Here comes Chloe Sullivan.”

 

“Don’t even get me started on those movies,” Chloe said, sipping from her water glass and glancing over the menu.

 

Clark shook his head in amazement. Lana smiled demurely, either not knowing how to respond, or afraid to. Chloe always managed to put spice in a conversation about the most ordinary topics.

 

The server came at that moment, and they gave their orders. Clark noticed the comfortable banter between Chloe and Jorge, a thin line between verbal sparring and flirting. Jorge’s arm seemed permanently slung over the back of Chloe’s chair, except to occasionally massage her shoulder with his hand when he was trying to calm her down. It made Clark feel uneasy. Lana continued to grin at Clark and touch his hand whenever they talked. Clark noticed once that Chloe eyed Lana’s hand as she did this, but her gaze quickly darted away. It made Clark hide a smile. His date with Lana was as uncomfortable for Chloe as Chloe’s date with Jorge was for Clark.

 

When they had finished their food and made a little more small talk, Jorge stood up quickly, dropping his and Chloe’s share of the bill on the table. “I’d like to go for a walk. Are you up for a walk, Chloe?”

 

Chloe stood up. “As always.” She turned to Clark and Lana. “I’ll talk to you guys later.”

 

Jorge waved and said, “It was nice meeting you both.”

 

When they were gone, Lana said, “It looks like Chloe has finally found her match.”

 

Clark shrugged. “He seemed … very much like her.”

 

“She deserves it,” Lana said, giving a firm nod. Then she sighed. “We all do.”

 

***

 

“He likes you very much,” Jorge said to Chloe as they turned the street corner, their clasped hands swinging between them.

 

“Who? Clark?” Chloe said, surprised. “He’s just overprotective. I’ve dated a couple of idiots in the past year.”

 

“That was not an overprotective look he was giving you,” Jorge said. “It was a loving look.”

 

Chloe searched Jorge’s face. “Are you jealous?”

“Of course I am,” Jorge said. He stopped walking and faced Chloe. “I’ve been reading your stories for the past year, and part of the reason I interned here in Smallville was to meet the woman behind the meteor shower theories. You intrigue me, Chloe.”

 

“I … For once, I don’t know what to say.”

 

Jorge smiled. “Well, don’t say anything. I work at four tomorrow, so I’ll have the morning free. Spend the day with me. We can talk meteors. Or whatever you want to talk about.”

 

Chloe’s eyes widened. She was flattered. “OK.”

 

***

 

The night was warm and still as Clark walked Lana to her door. She was quiet on the ride home, despite having been so chatty and animated at the Talon. Clark assumed she was tired.

 

When they reached the porch, Lana turned to Clark abruptly and asked, “Clark, do you like me?”

 

Clark was taken aback. “I thought we weren’t going to talk about this,” he said, avoiding the question.

 

Lana sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just … I just feel really comfortable with you, Clark. Like you know me, and I know you, and we … fit together. Am I making any sense?”

 

Clark nodded, but didn’t say anything.

 

Lana took a deep breath. “Thank you for tonight. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and you made me kind of forget everything. So, thanks.”

 

Clark grinned. “You’re welcome.”

 

Lana approached him with her arms outstretched, and Clark enveloped her, smelling her strawberry-scented hair mingled with a soft, floral perfume. He had been waiting for a moment like this for a long time, and he couldn’t figure out why he was feeling so uncomfortable. Was it because he had felt so comfortable in Metropolis without so much a mention of her name or likeness for two weeks? Or was it because she had just broken up with Whitney?

 

It didn’t matter. He wanted to take things slow with Lana.

 

So when she looked up at him, her face getting closer to his, he pulled away awkwardly.

 

“I gotta go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, striding down the porch steps quickly and toward his truck.

 

Lana looked at him with a puzzled look on her face. She stared for a long time as the truck disappeared into the darkness.

 

***

 

Jorge dropped Chloe off, planting an innocent but lingering kiss on her lips. Chloe was smiling when she entered her darkened living room. She flopped down on the couch and exhaled slowly. It was happening so fast. Jorge was in town for another month, and then he was moving to New York. Chloe decided that she was just going to enjoy it while it lasted. It was obviously not going to be forever, but she wanted it to be fun.

 

And she still couldn’t wipe the ridiculous grin that she knew was plastered to her face. Jorge was a great kisser.

 

But then she thought about what Jorge said after dinner. Did Clark really look at her lovingly? Jorge was a pretty intuitive person. He was a journalist, and he knew how to pick up on the little details. But Clark had always been wary of any boy Chloe was interested in.

 

“Why is that?” Chloe thought out loud.

 

“Chloe?” Gabe Sullivan’s voice drifted down the stairs. “Is that you, sweetheart?”

 

“Yes, Dad.”

 

Gabe came down in his bathrobe and slippers and stood at the foot of the stairs. “Did you have fun on your date?”

 

Chloe nodded, still smiling.

 

“He seemed like a nice boy,” Gabe observed.

 

“He is, Dad,” Chloe assured him. “A gentleman.”

 

Gabe sat down in his recliner facing Chloe, his face half-hidden in shadows. “What about Clark?”

 

Chloe sighed. “What about him?”

 

“I thought you liked him.”

 

“I did. But he doesn’t like me back, and I’m not going to wait forever.”

 

Although Chloe couldn’t see it, she knew her father was smiling. “Good girl.”

 

Gabe got up and headed for the stairs again. “By the way,” he said, pausing for a moment, “He called for you a half-hour ago.”

 

Chloe frowned. “Thanks, Dad. Good night.”

 

“Good night, sweetheart.”

 

Chloe fished her cell phone out of her purse and pressed 1 and Send.

 

“Hello?” Clark whispered from the other end.

 

“Why are you whispering?” Chloe asked.

 

“Because it’s eleven o’clock, and my parents and I have to get up in a few hours.”

 

“Oh. Sorry. I’m still not used to this harvest schedule thing. How was your date?”

 

Clark sighed. “I’d rather not talk about it. How was yours?”

 

Chloe grinned in spite of herself. “It was very nice. Despite the fact that when Jorge asked me whether or not Lana was the girl in Time magazine and I had to plead with him from asking her any questions about it –“

 

“Ouch.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Sounds a lot like you,” Clark added.

 

“Hey! Talk about ‘ouch.’”

 

“Sorry.”

 

They talked for a few more minutes. Chloe realized that since they had gotten back from Metropolis, this late-night phone calls between her and Clark were increasing in frequency. It was nice when they were in Metropolis, when she just had to walk through the bathroom to talk to him, talking his ear off despite his obvious hints that he wanted to sleep. She was naturally energetic, and sometimes she forgot that other people weren’t like her. So she noticed when Clark was only responding to her in monosyllabic words, yet not seeming to want to hang up.

 

“Hey,” Chloe finally said during a lull. “Are you gonna tell me what’s going on?”

 

“Lana tried to kiss me,” Clark said dejectedly.

 

Chloe thought she felt her heart breaking in two. She tried to shove the feeling aside. “Really? And you didn’t go for it? Or was there another Nellus Interruptus?”

 

“No, it was a Clarkus Interruptus,” he said, sounding more and more regretful with each word. “I just keep feeling that it’s never the right time.”

 

“Well, Clark, a kiss is just a kiss,” Chloe said, trying to keep her tone light.

 

“Stop it. It’s not funny,” Clark said. He was irritated now. Chloe couldn’t remember him irritated before. “I’m serious.”

 

“OK, I’m sorry. Seriously then, Clark. Talk to her. I mean, you’ve loved her from afar since the beginning of time.” Chloe sighed collecting her dignity before going on. “You’ve finally got your chance, right?” Chloe debated whether or not to tell Clark that Jorge had kissed her. She decided against it, deciding that it had nothing to do with the conversation. Which was ironic, because that’s why she had called Clark in the first place, and now that she was hearing about Lana’s kiss attempt, she was regretting it.

 

“You think so?” Clark asked.

 

Chloe swallowed, wondering if her voice would give away the huge lump in her throat. “Yeah,” she whispered. “Um. I think I better let you get some sleep.”

 

“Yeah,” Clark answered. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Or you can come by at the usual time.”

 

“Sure.”

 

Chloe tossed the phone carelessly on the couch next to her and punched the throw pillow that was conveniently nearby. She wasn’t in love with him. She was just disappointed.

 

Oh, who was she trying to kid?

 

She was totally still in love with him.

 

***

 

Next chapter: “Soul Search.”