Title: Notes from a Barstool
Rating: PG13 (for language)
Time setting: Current season. No spoilers, but specific reference to discovery made in "Fragile".
Disclaimer: I own no characters. If I did, Smallville would be ChLexed.
What is love when it is not requited?
Tossing back the remainder of her drink, Chloe leaned forward, resting her hands on the bar for support. Coming to The Pound & Pence after work had developed into a habit, but after an entire day spent solitarily in crowd after crowd, it made perfect sense to frequent a place where she could truly be alone. Every now and then, she heard the occasional line. Pickup attempts were also easily thwarted.
She could have a man, any man if she so desired, but not the one that possessed her thoughts.
Lex.
Her mind raced through the images burned into her memory from the day she’d caught him with Lana in the dorm room. The man she fantasized about in vividly carnal dreams was finally within the sphere of her personal space….with another woman. Snorting delicately, she nodded her head at the bartender for another round as she marinated in the stews of irony.
Courage never failed her in other aspects of life. In college, she was bold and never hesitated to express her opinions and question what she believed did not make sense. She’d fought tooth and nail for her position at The Daily Planet, both in acquiring the internship and in obtaining writing assignments once placed there. It was nonsensical that when it came to romantic attachments, she was literally a babe in the woods.
“I shudder at the thought of men,” she said aloud. The bartender raised an eyebrow and she rewarded him with a crooked smile.
“Don’t mind me,” she told him, taking the drink he’d placed before her and sipping it.
“He ain’t worth it,” the bartender replied.
“How do you know?” she laughed.
“Experience,” he retorted. “They never are.”
“Wisdom and liquor,” she sighed, “effective weapons of self-flagellation.”
“Still better than pity,” he answered, wiping at the bar and looking away.
“Good point,” Chloe replied, taking a generous gulp and finishing her shot of tequila.
But what was *her* point? Was she going to continue sitting in the shadows until someone – anyone – saw her as she wanted to be seen? It was a horrible way to live a life, but if she was being honest with herself, it was exactly the way she’d been living. She craved a stamp of approval for her actions, her life and her affections and until she was prepared to go forward and take risks outside of her comfort zone, she was going to be stuck right where she was. On a barstool, drinking and lamenting another ‘one that got away.’
The fucking victim act ended today, she decided. She took a twenty out of her purse, slipped it under the glass and took a deep breath.
This one wasn’t getting away. She’d had a powerful connection with Lex once and would get it again. On more than one occasion, she’d felt chemistry between them – kindred, lost spirits bonding over distinct, yet similar failures in their lives. It couldn’t all have been one-sided.
It was time to test out if what had once existed, still lived. She'd had enough of ambigious signals and messages. Clarity demanded confrontation.
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