Chapter 3: The Unexpected Guest
Lana didn’t move. The apology died on her lips, replaced by a soft, stunned exhalation. Her eyes, wide and dark, swept from Chloe—shirt unbuttoned, defiant and smiling—to the boys frozen on the bed, and finally to the floor, as if the worn rug might offer an explanation.
“I… I was looking for Clark,” she managed, her voice a thin thread of sound. “His mom said he was up here.”
“And now you’ve found him,” Chloe said, her tone light, conversational, as if they were all gathered for study group. She didn’t cover herself. Instead, she took a single step forward, her hand still extended. “Better than a note in his locker, right?”
Clark’s mind was a cyclone of static. He could hear everything: the rapid, tripping beat of four separate hearts, the dry swallow in Pete’s throat, the faint rustle of Lana’s denim jacket as she shifted her weight. He could smell her perfume, something like jasmine, cutting through the scent of hay and his own rising panic. His focus narrowed to a painful point, trying to keep his breathing even, to keep the old floorboards from groaning under his tension.
“Chloe, maybe…” Pete started, his voice cracking. He sat up, running a hand over his face.
“Maybe nothing,” Chloe said, though a flicker of something vulnerable passed through her eyes. She looked back at Lana. “You like him. Always have. Don’t bother denying it, Lang, I’ve seen your bylines in the Torch archives. The number of times you ‘innocently’ quoted the strong, silent farm boy?” She smirked. “It’s not subtle.”
Lana’s cheeks flushed. She crossed her arms, not in defiance, but like a shield. “That’s not why I’m here.”
“Doesn’t matter why you’re here. You’re here.” Chloe’s gaze softened, just a fraction. “We made a promise. A long time ago. All of us. It wasn’t just about… this. It was about being honest. No more secrets.” She glanced back at Clark, and he felt the weight of that word. Secrets. His whole life was a vault. “This is part of it. If you want to be.”
The room held its breath. A tractor coughed to life somewhere in the distance, the sound carrying through the open window.
Clark finally found his voice. It felt rough, unused. “Lana, you don’t have to… This is…” He couldn’t finish. What was it? Insane? Overwhelming? The most terrifyingly human moment of his life?
Lana’s eyes met his. He saw curiosity there, and fear, and a spark of something else he couldn’t name. She uncrossed her arms. “A promise?” she asked, not looking away from Clark.
“Eighth grade,” Pete mumbled, finding his footing. “After the Spring Fling. We all said… when we were older…”
“We’d stop pretending,” Chloe finished. She let her hand drop, but her posture remained open. “Look, I’m not gonna force a scene. But you walked in. And you’re not running. So maybe you’re tired of pretending, too.”
Lana took a step into the room. The door clicked shut behind her, sealing them in. The golden light from the window caught the dust motes swirling around her, making her look like she was standing in her own spotlight.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Lana admitted, her voice stronger now.
“Join the club,” Pete said with a weak chuckle.
Clark watched as Lana’s gaze traveled over the familiar room—the desk, the bookshelf, the bed where he and Pete sat, looking more like lost kids than confident teenagers. He saw her decision form in the set of her jaw, the slight lift of her chin. She wasn’t Lana the perfect girl-next-door right then. She was just Lana, uncertain and brave.
Slowly, she shrugged out of her jacket, letting it fall to the floor beside Chloe’s blouse. It was a small motion, but in the silent room, it was deafening.
Chloe’s smile returned, genuine this time, without its earlier edge of challenge. She reached out and took Lana’s hand, giving it a quick, reassuring squeeze. Then she turned back to the bed, her eyes alight.
“Now,” she said, the word hanging in the air. “Where were we?”
Clark felt the world tilt. The profound, ordinary weirdness of it all crashed over him—his best friend beside him, the two girls they’d grown up with now standing together in the dim light, a chain reaction of choices leading to this impossible moment. He was an alien who could lift trucks, but he had never felt more powerless, or more acutely himself.
Pete looked at Clark, a silent question in his eyes. Clark gave a barely perceptible nod. It was a mess. It was complicated. It was everything he was supposed to avoid.
But it was also real.
As Chloe and Lana moved toward them, Clark made a conscious decision to quiet the storm in his senses, to focus only on the warmth of the room, the sound of soft footsteps, the tangible, fragile reality of the people he cared about, stepping into the unknown together. He let out a long, slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
He let out a long, slow breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.
“Before we… do anything,” Chloe said, her voice dropping to a more serious note. She kept hold of Lana’s hand, a tactile anchor in the thickening silence of the room. “We should be totally clear. About everything.”
Lana nodded, her gaze flickering from Chloe to the boys and back again. “Clear about what?”
“The promise was about no secrets, right?” Chloe began. She took a half-step back, creating a small circle that included all of them. “So here’s a big one. We’re all… we’re all virgins. Me, Clark, Pete. All of us.”
The word hung in the air, blunt and unadorned. Pete looked down at his hands, a shy grin touching his lips. Clark felt a wave of heat rush up his neck, but he held Chloe’s gaze, acknowledging the truth of it. It was a fact, simple and human, and somehow more exposing than his shirtless chest would have been.
Lana blinked, processing. “All of you?”
“All of us,” Chloe confirmed. Her tone wasn’t boastful or ashamed; it was just matter-of-fact. “The plan, like, thirty seconds before you walked in, was for me and them to… well, start. We were literally about to figure out which one of them was going first.” She gave a small, self-deprecating shrug. “Logistics, you know?”
A startled laugh escaped Pete. “Yeah, we were really nailing down the strategic details.”
The tension in the room softened, just a fraction, bridged by the awkward, shared reality of their inexperience. Chloe squeezed Lana’s hand again, her expression turning gently inquisitive.
“But you’re here now,” Chloe continued, her voice lower. “And if you are… if you’re still a virgin, too… then we don’t have to decide who goes first. We could all just… stop being virgins. Together. At the same time.”
Lana’s breath caught. The implication settled over the room, a new and profound possibility. It wasn’t just Chloe sharing herself with the boys; it was the four of them, crossing a threshold simultaneously, a shared first time that would belong to all of them equally.
Clark watched Lana’s face, seeing the conflict war with a dawning, deep curiosity. This was far from the hypotheticals they’d whispered about as kids. This was real, offered here on the creaking floorboards of his childhood bedroom.
“Same time?” Lana repeated, the words barely a whisper.
“Yeah,” Chloe said, her own nerves finally showing in the slight tremor of her smile. “No one’s first. No one’s left waiting. We all… jump together.”
Pete shifted on the bed, the springs groaning softly. “That’s… actually way less pressure, man.”
The practicality of it, the strange democracy of the idea, began to dissolve the last of Lana’s frozen uncertainty. She looked at Clark, searching his eyes for hesitation, for a sign this was wrong. He tried to let everything he felt—his care for her, his trust in this messy, fragile group—show in his expression. He gave a single, slow nod.
Lana turned back to Chloe. A long moment stretched, filled only with the distant sound of the tractor and the rustle of the curtains. Then, a decision solidified in her posture. She didn’t speak. Instead, she simply reached her free hand up and began to unbutton her own shirt, her movements deliberate but not rushed.
Chloe’s answering smile was brilliant and relieved. She mirrored the action, finally shrugging out of her blouse completely. The late afternoon light traced the lines of their shoulders, their ordinary, breathtaking nerves on display.
On the bed, Clark and Pete looked at each other. No words were needed. Together, they stood up.