Chlollie Fanfic: Trajectory (Book 2 of Chlollie Series)
Any Chlollie fans in the house? :-)
So, here's what happened. I was pleased by the feedback I got on Slingshot, and I actually wrote it with the idea of revising it at some point.
Well...'some point' seems to have arrived. ;-)
More than that, it looks like I'm going to have to write at least three more stories if I want to do this sucker justice. I'm going to try to stick to SV Chlollie canon as much as I can, but there will be some (workable) wankery along the way to smoothen the lines a bit. :-)
New story is called Trajectory, and is written in line with the events of Slingshot. If you haven't read Slingshot, it would be a good idea to play catch-up first.
Enjoy!
Image-heavy. But worth it. :-)
ETA: Also posted for tehzo 's birthday. Happy Birthday, and many happy returns, hun! :-)
Title: Trajectory
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie, Part of The Chlollie Series
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Timeline: Season 6 (Reunion *hint-hint*)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe and Oliver meet for the first time. But as the episode title suggests, is it really their first meeting? Sequel to Slingshot.
Feedback: Would be stellar. J
Read Book 1: Slingshot here
Read Book 2: Trajectory, below.
The Chlollie Series, Book 2
Tra·jec·to·ry (definition): The planned out/presupposed path of an object’s progress/journey; a chosen or taken course.
Oliver:
I sat on the steps in the dusty, hay-strewn barn of my unusual friend, Clark Kent, listening to him describe how my former schoolmate Duncan Ellermyer met his demise. Up until recently, I’d believed that Duncan had died in a tragic accident; the incident had, of course, happened before my very eyes. And if I’m to be truthful, it wasn’t so much an accident as it was the end result of a series of events that I had pretty much had a big hand in orchestrating.
Duncan had been best friends with Lex Luthor, who had been known to my family for years. Both Lex and I had experienced tragedy around the same time, so in my mind he was connected with pain and trauma. My parents had died in a terrible plane crash just days before Lex himself had suffered exposure to some sort of radiation and lost all his hair.
He and his father, Lionel Luthor, had attended the double funeral for my parents, and…I could be wrong, but I swear I saw a satisfied smirk cross Lionel’s face briefly as the caskets were being lowered. From that moment on, I was convinced he’d had something, if not everything, to do with my parents’ untimely death. Unfortunately, I was just a young child, and there really wasn’t anything I could do about it, not without proof.
I know it was completely unreasonable and all kinds of wrong, but I transferred all my rage and fury at the injustice of being orphaned to Lex. We didn’t see each other that often, but when we did I tormented him mercilessly. The bullying got worse when he began attending Excelsior Academy, where I was already a student. I, along with my friends Geoffrey and Alden, hounded and tormented him, making fun of his premature baldness until anyone who was anyone steered clear of Lex unless they wanted to be subjected to the same treatment.
Then along came Duncan. Duncan Ellermyer was a bright young man, the son of a single mother who couldn’t afford his tuition, so he was a scholarship student and didn’t have much in the way of possessions. But what he lacked in physical assets, he more than made up for with his generous spirit and fierce determination.
He’d become firm friends with Lex, knowing full well that by doing so he may as well have hung a dartboard around his neck with a flashing arrow pointing to the bullseye, as by default he also became a target for torture. But the more we bullied and attacked them, the stronger Lex and Duncan had become, defiantly standing up to us every time.
One afternoon, Lex came to my friends and me and confronted us with evidence showing we’d stolen exam question papers. I was surprised he’d come to us with this information instead of going straight to the Dean, until he stated his terms. He wanted unfettered acceptance and friendship from us for himself and for Duncan, and to be treated with some respect. I agreed, figuring that a nod of the head and a ‘good afternoon’ every now and then was a small price to pay in lieu of expulsion.
But Duncan wasn’t impressed when he found out, and insisted on going to the Dean anyway. I thought we were sunk. Angrily I turned to Lex and told him to sort it, thinking he’d persuade Duncan to come round.
But to my surprise, Lex had attacked his only friend with fierce rage. He’d pounced on him, knocked him to the ground and beat him till his face was a bloody mess.
I was horrified; not at what Lex had done, but at how my actions had led to all this. Duncan had backed away from us in horror and walked straight into the path of a moving car.
After that, I felt my life was completely worthless. I began sneaking out of school, drinking and getting into all sorts of trouble. I had no parents to answer to, no-one who really cared if I lived or died. I was twelve years old, going to hell in a hand basket, and I didn’t care. I think I just wanted to end it all, and was taking the fast path to self destruction.
Then something happened. One afternoon, I’d sneaked off school grounds with Geoffrey and Alden and gone to a theme park. I’d given them the slip, intent on smoking a pack of cigarettes behind a boatshed, when…something happened. I don’t remember what, exactly; there are three missing hours from that afternoon that are just a blur to me. The only evidence I have of that experience is a green silk ribbon, and a happy-smiley Polaroid of me with a young blond girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six.
Whatever I’d gone through in those missing hours is a mystery, but it was something life-changing and hope-inspiring, because I’d thrown the cigarettes away and starting living my life, instead of coasting through it. I’d changed my attitude towards Lex Luthor completely, though I hadn’t been able to bring myself to verbally apologise for my treatment of him and Duncan.
Until this evening, that is. After the harrowing death attempts Lex and I had miraculously managed to live through, I swallowed my pride and went to the Luthor Mansion, completely repentant.
“Lex…what happened to Duncan,” I said quietly, “the way I treated both of you…it’s not something that I’m proud of. I want you to know how much I regret it.”
But I guess it was all too little, too late to the younger man. He glared at me through narrowed eyes, his expression cold.
“And I regret ever thinking that I needed friends like you,” he said bitterly.
I’d sighed and left, making my way over to the Kent Barn.
***
Clark was shifting some hay bales when he noticed that I’d gone all quiet and introspective. He straightened and leaned on the banister, looking serious.
“You know, making the wrong choices and living with the consequences is never easy, is it?” he said softly.
I gave a wry little smile. Was I that transparent? Remind me never to play poker with this guy.
“Speaking from experience, huh?” I countered, turning defence into offence.
He nodded slowly. “More than I’d like.”
I rose and dusted hay from my tan slacks. The time for regrets was past.
“You know, we all make bad choices, Clark,” I said simply. “All we can do is hope to make the right ones in the future, right?”
The other man smiled and nodded in agreement.
Just then a voice rang through the air, clear and resonant as a crystal bell.
“Clark?”
I saw the other man look beyond me and smile. Curiously I turned around to see who had spoken.
Standing silhouetted in the doorway was a young woman of about Clark’s age. She walked forward, and as she emerged out of the shadows, I let my gaze travel over her from her feet upwards. She was wearing black high-heeled shoes and a dark green business suit. As she stepped fully into the light, I couldn’t help but notice that she had a gorgeous figure and very attractive face framed by shoulder-length blonde hair.
There was something about her…
“Oh!” she exclaimed as she neared us. She glanced from Clark to me, and back to Clark. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.”
Did I say 'attractive' earlier? Scratch that. She’s straight‑up beautiful. Her eyes were hazel-green, but the green hair accessories and earrings she wore made them sparkled like polished emeralds. She was also carrying a green purse slung over her shoulder, and was without doubt the best thing I’d seen all day.
Something about seeing this girl - and in green, no less - struck a familial chord in my memory. I sort of have a thing for green. It’s my signature colour. I’ve been into it ever since I discovered that mysterious green ribbon in my possession.
Once again, I had that nagging feeling that I’d met her before, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place it.
Clark smiled at her. “That’s okay. Chloe, meet Oliver Queen.”
A light frown creased my brow. Chloe…
She beamed up at me, her smile so bright I could have sworn a lightbulb had been switched on in her head.
“Oh, hi!” she said enthusiastically.
Her smile was definitely infectious, because I grinned back at her.
Chloe…
That name, together with the face, stirred my memory again, and I felt a mist in my head begin to lift.
I know her, I thought excitedly. I’m sure I know her…
“I feel like I know you already,” she said, her voice breaking through my reverie as though reading
my mind.
My heart thumped so hard and so loudly in my chest I’m surprised she didn’t hear it. “You do?” I whispered, an odd note in my voice.
She nodded. “Yeah, Lois talks about you all the time.”
Lois. Her cousin, Lois.
I sighed. Of course. That must be it. I’m dating her cousin, so it’s probably just a slight, familial resemblance, nothing more.
All the same, I was oddly disappointed. I was sure something was coming back to me, but it had just been a false alarm.
“I was actually gonna go see Lois right now,” I mused. “Maybe it’s time I did some talking.”
She stood there smiling at me, and I gazed back at her, trying not to make it look like I was staring at her too searchingly.
“Well, look, I’m looking forward to your article on Dark Thursday,” I went on, making small talk, remembering that this must be the reporter friend that Clark had talked about.
She said nothing, but her grin widened, if that were possible. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Clark regard her with a little frown. I guess this wasn’t Chloe’s usual reaction to meeting new people.
“I hope my satellite images helped?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” she blurted out. Clark dropped his head and shook it slightly as if embarrassed on her behalf.
Hmm. It seems I have an unusual effect on the young reporter.
“Good,” I said, smiling down at her. “It was good to meet you.”
I held out my non-injured hand to her and she took it, curling her fingers around mine in a firm handshake. To my surprise, a tingle warmed my palm, crept up my arm, and began to radiate through my entire body.
Hmm. It seems she has an unusual effect on me, too.
Get a grip, man, I cautioned myself. She’s your girlfriend’s cousin. It’s just a handshake, not a handjob.
Wrong choice of words. At that thought, my body began to tighten as an unmistakable jolt of arousal ran though my veins and headed straight for my groin.
Quickly I let go of her hand, but the tingly feeling remained. Fortunately, she was still looking at my face, otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d have awoken to front page news proclaiming Oliver Queen to be a pervert who gets his jollies from innocent handshakes.
Time to leave, I thought desperately. Now.
I turned and nodded curtly. “Clark,” I said, taking my leave.
I walked away, trying to remain loose-limbed despite the pressure in my pants. I could feel her eyes boring into me as I walked away.
Don’t turn around, I told myself. Don’t turn around…
I couldn’t help myself. Against my better judgement, I glanced over my shoulder, and smiled smugly.
Chloe was definitely checking out my ass.
***
Chloe:
Dayum, that is one fine ass.
I know, I know; it’s wrong to stare, but I just can’t help myself. Oliver Queen moves with panther‑like grace, all long strides and powerful muscles that just begged to be touched.
I’m completely overwhelmed and surprised by my reaction to this man. I mean, sure, he’s a world famous billionaire, and a hot one to boot, but I’ve never really been into blonde - at least, not when it’s not on my own head. I’ve always been attracted to a man men with dark-hair.
But there’s just something…magnetic…about Oliver Queen. I haven’t felt drawn to a man this strongly since…
Well, since Clark, to be honest.
Finally Oliver stepped through the door of the barn and into the night.
I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding.
“Wow,” I breathed when I could trust myself to form coherent words. “In person, he is really…”
Sex personified…?
A walking humpfest…?
Straight-up shaggalicious…?
All of the above…?
“Wow,” I whispered again, arousal spreading warmly though my limbs. I know he’s my cousin’s boyfriend and all, but…
“Chloe?”
Damn. I would love to tap that.
“Chloe?”
Dimly I heard someone calling my name. I glanced over to the left and saw Clark looking at me strangely.
“Were you able to pull anything off the satellites?” he said dryly.
I blinked, and suddenly came back online. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, handing him a pink folder with some satellite images and launching into a long explanation of the research I’d done, but in the back of my mind I was tingling with excitement for a whole different reason.
For the first time in my life, I’d felt an intense connection to someone other than Clark. See, I’ve loved Clark since the first moment I laid eyes (and mouth) on him. I’d resigned myself to the fact that he would never feel for me the way I felt for him, felt I was doomed to be the unfortunate harbourer of unrequited love for the rest of my life.
Until now.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the feeling of walking up to Oliver and meeting his gaze, looking into warm eyes the colour of melted chocolate. And he looked at me, really looked at me as if he knew me…or wanted to get to know me.
I’m generally a loquacious sort - most of the time, the problem is getting me to stop talking - but I was quite honestly struck dumb by Oliver Queen. I stood there grinning like a fool, looking so loopy he must have thought I was a lost escapee from Belle Reve.
Then he shook my hand, and…whoa. I seriously felt my insides begin to melt.
I swear, if he hadn’t been dating my cousin, I’d have done what I did with Clark the day I met him: kissed him, just so that I’d know that no matter what happens afterward, I’d always have had at least that one kiss.
But alas, the freedom and folly of youth has long since left me, and I managed to content myself with watching his rear end as he walked away.
Don’t get me wrong; as good-looking as Oliver is, my attraction to him seems to go beyond that. I feel…drawn to him somehow, like we’re sort of connected. Like we were meant to meet, as though our association has a higher purpose. It’s weird, because the only person I’ve ever felt this way about is Clark.
I’m cautiously optimistic of have a chance of a future now, one that doesn’t have me standing on the outside looking in. Even so, I admit that it isn’t a much better situation than the one I had with Clark and Lana. Oliver is, after all, dating my cousin, which actually makes it worse. But just the knowledge that I can feel for someone other than Clark is wholly liberating.
It isn’t much to go on…but it’s a start.
I bade Clark goodbye and walked out of his loft, a big, cheesy grin on my face.
***
The End.
Read the sequel: Book 3, Misdirection
So, here's what happened. I was pleased by the feedback I got on Slingshot, and I actually wrote it with the idea of revising it at some point.
Well...'some point' seems to have arrived. ;-)
More than that, it looks like I'm going to have to write at least three more stories if I want to do this sucker justice. I'm going to try to stick to SV Chlollie canon as much as I can, but there will be some (workable) wankery along the way to smoothen the lines a bit. :-)
New story is called Trajectory, and is written in line with the events of Slingshot. If you haven't read Slingshot, it would be a good idea to play catch-up first.
Enjoy!
Image-heavy. But worth it. :-)
ETA: Also posted for tehzo 's birthday. Happy Birthday, and many happy returns, hun! :-)
Title: Trajectory
Author: BabyDee
Pairing: Chlollie, Part of The Chlollie Series
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Timeline: Season 6 (Reunion *hint-hint*)
Disclaimer: All characters belong to the CW & DC comics.
Summary: Chloe and Oliver meet for the first time. But as the episode title suggests, is it really their first meeting? Sequel to Slingshot.
Feedback: Would be stellar. J
Read Book 1: Slingshot here
Read Book 2: Trajectory, below.
The Chlollie Series, Book 2
Tra·jec·to·ry (definition): The planned out/presupposed path of an object’s progress/journey; a chosen or taken course.
Oliver:
I sat on the steps in the dusty, hay-strewn barn of my unusual friend, Clark Kent, listening to him describe how my former schoolmate Duncan Ellermyer met his demise. Up until recently, I’d believed that Duncan had died in a tragic accident; the incident had, of course, happened before my very eyes. And if I’m to be truthful, it wasn’t so much an accident as it was the end result of a series of events that I had pretty much had a big hand in orchestrating.
Duncan had been best friends with Lex Luthor, who had been known to my family for years. Both Lex and I had experienced tragedy around the same time, so in my mind he was connected with pain and trauma. My parents had died in a terrible plane crash just days before Lex himself had suffered exposure to some sort of radiation and lost all his hair.
He and his father, Lionel Luthor, had attended the double funeral for my parents, and…I could be wrong, but I swear I saw a satisfied smirk cross Lionel’s face briefly as the caskets were being lowered. From that moment on, I was convinced he’d had something, if not everything, to do with my parents’ untimely death. Unfortunately, I was just a young child, and there really wasn’t anything I could do about it, not without proof.
I know it was completely unreasonable and all kinds of wrong, but I transferred all my rage and fury at the injustice of being orphaned to Lex. We didn’t see each other that often, but when we did I tormented him mercilessly. The bullying got worse when he began attending Excelsior Academy, where I was already a student. I, along with my friends Geoffrey and Alden, hounded and tormented him, making fun of his premature baldness until anyone who was anyone steered clear of Lex unless they wanted to be subjected to the same treatment.
Then along came Duncan. Duncan Ellermyer was a bright young man, the son of a single mother who couldn’t afford his tuition, so he was a scholarship student and didn’t have much in the way of possessions. But what he lacked in physical assets, he more than made up for with his generous spirit and fierce determination.
He’d become firm friends with Lex, knowing full well that by doing so he may as well have hung a dartboard around his neck with a flashing arrow pointing to the bullseye, as by default he also became a target for torture. But the more we bullied and attacked them, the stronger Lex and Duncan had become, defiantly standing up to us every time.
One afternoon, Lex came to my friends and me and confronted us with evidence showing we’d stolen exam question papers. I was surprised he’d come to us with this information instead of going straight to the Dean, until he stated his terms. He wanted unfettered acceptance and friendship from us for himself and for Duncan, and to be treated with some respect. I agreed, figuring that a nod of the head and a ‘good afternoon’ every now and then was a small price to pay in lieu of expulsion.
But Duncan wasn’t impressed when he found out, and insisted on going to the Dean anyway. I thought we were sunk. Angrily I turned to Lex and told him to sort it, thinking he’d persuade Duncan to come round.
But to my surprise, Lex had attacked his only friend with fierce rage. He’d pounced on him, knocked him to the ground and beat him till his face was a bloody mess.
I was horrified; not at what Lex had done, but at how my actions had led to all this. Duncan had backed away from us in horror and walked straight into the path of a moving car.
After that, I felt my life was completely worthless. I began sneaking out of school, drinking and getting into all sorts of trouble. I had no parents to answer to, no-one who really cared if I lived or died. I was twelve years old, going to hell in a hand basket, and I didn’t care. I think I just wanted to end it all, and was taking the fast path to self destruction.
Then something happened. One afternoon, I’d sneaked off school grounds with Geoffrey and Alden and gone to a theme park. I’d given them the slip, intent on smoking a pack of cigarettes behind a boatshed, when…something happened. I don’t remember what, exactly; there are three missing hours from that afternoon that are just a blur to me. The only evidence I have of that experience is a green silk ribbon, and a happy-smiley Polaroid of me with a young blond girl who couldn’t have been more than five or six.
Whatever I’d gone through in those missing hours is a mystery, but it was something life-changing and hope-inspiring, because I’d thrown the cigarettes away and starting living my life, instead of coasting through it. I’d changed my attitude towards Lex Luthor completely, though I hadn’t been able to bring myself to verbally apologise for my treatment of him and Duncan.
Until this evening, that is. After the harrowing death attempts Lex and I had miraculously managed to live through, I swallowed my pride and went to the Luthor Mansion, completely repentant.
“Lex…what happened to Duncan,” I said quietly, “the way I treated both of you…it’s not something that I’m proud of. I want you to know how much I regret it.”
But I guess it was all too little, too late to the younger man. He glared at me through narrowed eyes, his expression cold.
“And I regret ever thinking that I needed friends like you,” he said bitterly.
I’d sighed and left, making my way over to the Kent Barn.
***
Clark was shifting some hay bales when he noticed that I’d gone all quiet and introspective. He straightened and leaned on the banister, looking serious.
“You know, making the wrong choices and living with the consequences is never easy, is it?” he said softly.
I gave a wry little smile. Was I that transparent? Remind me never to play poker with this guy.
“Speaking from experience, huh?” I countered, turning defence into offence.
He nodded slowly. “More than I’d like.”
I rose and dusted hay from my tan slacks. The time for regrets was past.
“You know, we all make bad choices, Clark,” I said simply. “All we can do is hope to make the right ones in the future, right?”
The other man smiled and nodded in agreement.
Just then a voice rang through the air, clear and resonant as a crystal bell.
“Clark?”
I saw the other man look beyond me and smile. Curiously I turned around to see who had spoken.
Standing silhouetted in the doorway was a young woman of about Clark’s age. She walked forward, and as she emerged out of the shadows, I let my gaze travel over her from her feet upwards. She was wearing black high-heeled shoes and a dark green business suit. As she stepped fully into the light, I couldn’t help but notice that she had a gorgeous figure and very attractive face framed by shoulder-length blonde hair.
There was something about her…
“Oh!” she exclaimed as she neared us. She glanced from Clark to me, and back to Clark. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company.”
Did I say 'attractive' earlier? Scratch that. She’s straight‑up beautiful. Her eyes were hazel-green, but the green hair accessories and earrings she wore made them sparkled like polished emeralds. She was also carrying a green purse slung over her shoulder, and was without doubt the best thing I’d seen all day.
Something about seeing this girl - and in green, no less - struck a familial chord in my memory. I sort of have a thing for green. It’s my signature colour. I’ve been into it ever since I discovered that mysterious green ribbon in my possession.
Once again, I had that nagging feeling that I’d met her before, but for the life of me, I couldn’t place it.
Clark smiled at her. “That’s okay. Chloe, meet Oliver Queen.”
A light frown creased my brow. Chloe…
She beamed up at me, her smile so bright I could have sworn a lightbulb had been switched on in her head.
“Oh, hi!” she said enthusiastically.
Her smile was definitely infectious, because I grinned back at her.
Chloe…
That name, together with the face, stirred my memory again, and I felt a mist in my head begin to lift.
I know her, I thought excitedly. I’m sure I know her…
“I feel like I know you already,” she said, her voice breaking through my reverie as though reading
my mind.
My heart thumped so hard and so loudly in my chest I’m surprised she didn’t hear it. “You do?” I whispered, an odd note in my voice.
She nodded. “Yeah, Lois talks about you all the time.”
Lois. Her cousin, Lois.
I sighed. Of course. That must be it. I’m dating her cousin, so it’s probably just a slight, familial resemblance, nothing more.
All the same, I was oddly disappointed. I was sure something was coming back to me, but it had just been a false alarm.
“I was actually gonna go see Lois right now,” I mused. “Maybe it’s time I did some talking.”
She stood there smiling at me, and I gazed back at her, trying not to make it look like I was staring at her too searchingly.
“Well, look, I’m looking forward to your article on Dark Thursday,” I went on, making small talk, remembering that this must be the reporter friend that Clark had talked about.
She said nothing, but her grin widened, if that were possible. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Clark regard her with a little frown. I guess this wasn’t Chloe’s usual reaction to meeting new people.
“I hope my satellite images helped?” I asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” she blurted out. Clark dropped his head and shook it slightly as if embarrassed on her behalf.
Hmm. It seems I have an unusual effect on the young reporter.
“Good,” I said, smiling down at her. “It was good to meet you.”
I held out my non-injured hand to her and she took it, curling her fingers around mine in a firm handshake. To my surprise, a tingle warmed my palm, crept up my arm, and began to radiate through my entire body.
Hmm. It seems she has an unusual effect on me, too.
Get a grip, man, I cautioned myself. She’s your girlfriend’s cousin. It’s just a handshake, not a handjob.
Wrong choice of words. At that thought, my body began to tighten as an unmistakable jolt of arousal ran though my veins and headed straight for my groin.
Quickly I let go of her hand, but the tingly feeling remained. Fortunately, she was still looking at my face, otherwise I’m pretty sure I’d have awoken to front page news proclaiming Oliver Queen to be a pervert who gets his jollies from innocent handshakes.
Time to leave, I thought desperately. Now.
I turned and nodded curtly. “Clark,” I said, taking my leave.
I walked away, trying to remain loose-limbed despite the pressure in my pants. I could feel her eyes boring into me as I walked away.
Don’t turn around, I told myself. Don’t turn around…
I couldn’t help myself. Against my better judgement, I glanced over my shoulder, and smiled smugly.
Chloe was definitely checking out my ass.
***
Chloe:
Dayum, that is one fine ass.
I know, I know; it’s wrong to stare, but I just can’t help myself. Oliver Queen moves with panther‑like grace, all long strides and powerful muscles that just begged to be touched.
I’m completely overwhelmed and surprised by my reaction to this man. I mean, sure, he’s a world famous billionaire, and a hot one to boot, but I’ve never really been into blonde - at least, not when it’s not on my own head. I’ve always been attracted to a man men with dark-hair.
But there’s just something…magnetic…about Oliver Queen. I haven’t felt drawn to a man this strongly since…
Well, since Clark, to be honest.
Finally Oliver stepped through the door of the barn and into the night.
I let out a breath I wasn’t aware I’d been holding.
“Wow,” I breathed when I could trust myself to form coherent words. “In person, he is really…”
Sex personified…?
A walking humpfest…?
Straight-up shaggalicious…?
All of the above…?
“Wow,” I whispered again, arousal spreading warmly though my limbs. I know he’s my cousin’s boyfriend and all, but…
“Chloe?”
Damn. I would love to tap that.
“Chloe?”
Dimly I heard someone calling my name. I glanced over to the left and saw Clark looking at me strangely.
“Were you able to pull anything off the satellites?” he said dryly.
I blinked, and suddenly came back online. “I’m sorry,” I mumbled, handing him a pink folder with some satellite images and launching into a long explanation of the research I’d done, but in the back of my mind I was tingling with excitement for a whole different reason.
For the first time in my life, I’d felt an intense connection to someone other than Clark. See, I’ve loved Clark since the first moment I laid eyes (and mouth) on him. I’d resigned myself to the fact that he would never feel for me the way I felt for him, felt I was doomed to be the unfortunate harbourer of unrequited love for the rest of my life.
Until now.
I don’t think I’ll ever forget the feeling of walking up to Oliver and meeting his gaze, looking into warm eyes the colour of melted chocolate. And he looked at me, really looked at me as if he knew me…or wanted to get to know me.
I’m generally a loquacious sort - most of the time, the problem is getting me to stop talking - but I was quite honestly struck dumb by Oliver Queen. I stood there grinning like a fool, looking so loopy he must have thought I was a lost escapee from Belle Reve.
Then he shook my hand, and…whoa. I seriously felt my insides begin to melt.
I swear, if he hadn’t been dating my cousin, I’d have done what I did with Clark the day I met him: kissed him, just so that I’d know that no matter what happens afterward, I’d always have had at least that one kiss.
But alas, the freedom and folly of youth has long since left me, and I managed to content myself with watching his rear end as he walked away.
Don’t get me wrong; as good-looking as Oliver is, my attraction to him seems to go beyond that. I feel…drawn to him somehow, like we’re sort of connected. Like we were meant to meet, as though our association has a higher purpose. It’s weird, because the only person I’ve ever felt this way about is Clark.
I’m cautiously optimistic of have a chance of a future now, one that doesn’t have me standing on the outside looking in. Even so, I admit that it isn’t a much better situation than the one I had with Clark and Lana. Oliver is, after all, dating my cousin, which actually makes it worse. But just the knowledge that I can feel for someone other than Clark is wholly liberating.
It isn’t much to go on…but it’s a start.
I bade Clark goodbye and walked out of his loft, a big, cheesy grin on my face.
***
The End.
Read the sequel: Book 3, Misdirection