Title: Wall of Weird Material
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Everything but the plot belongs to someone other than me.
Author's Note: Peggy asked, so I wrote. This is a sequel to 'One Day Can Change Everything'; Chloe's POV during/after Craving.
******
I'm walking into the Torch office, after running to my locker for a second (it's not important why); Clark is still there, NOT working (which isn't a surprise). Also with him, I discover, is my father's boss: one-- "Mister Luthor," I say casually. I knew it was only a matter of time before he stopped by; reporter's intuition. (I also know he has an insatiable curiosity regarding the meteors.)
Lex turns, smiles, offers his hand. I shake it firmly, staring him in the eye. It's polite, and I'm not at all threatened by him, unlike most people. But I'm not like most people in this town. He tells me to call him 'Lex', but I ignore him; I'm too busy sizing him up. I'm probably imagining it (at least I admit it), but I swear he's checking me out; only fair, since that's what I'm doing to him.
As he and I make small talk, I watch Clark bumble over to Not Work. I consider telling him to get his butt into gear, but I'm unable to look away from Lex; don't know, nor do I care, why. We discuss my theories for a bit, Lex says he agrees, I bring up Doctor Hamilton, Lex's eyes glow...then Clark, the big dufus, opens his mouth. (Not that I really mind. It wasn't like Lex and I were flirting, or anything.)
Apparently, Lex decides he's interfering, or he needs to be else where. As he walks to the door ('swaggers' is more like it), he tells me to give him a call when I'm looking for a job; he has friends at the *Inquisitor*. (Bimbo-y 'friends', I'm sure.)
I'm not planning to take him up on that, even though it was almost nice; I don't even READ that rag, unless there's a really important story that demands attention for the Wall. I'd never DREAM of WORKING there. (Whoa, Chloe. Chill.)
I just made a cup of coffee, and I take it to my room. While I flip through a week-old issue of the Planet (looking for a specific story that I forgot to cut out earlier), my eyes land on a column about Luthor Corp. Lex, in all his silky, suave glory, stares up at me in a decent photo.
I start, though I've seen the picture before. Shaking my head, I have to laugh at my skittishness. Just because I'm drawn to him for some odd reason, that doesn't mean I have any interest in talking to him again; not even for a story. I'm not that desperate. Really.
Before I go to sleep, I cut out the picture of Mister Luthor, the Younger, and stuff it into a file folder; I might need it for the Wall someday; after all, something about him does attract me, and that can't be a natural occurance.
FINIS