𝐕ain.

That’s what Clark Kent, the nerdy reporter who you’ve never had a problem with when you go into the daily planet to drag your best friend Jimmy Olsen off to lunch, called you in his front page article about your new movie.

You’ve met him a total of three times before and you’ve only actually spoken for two.

The first time was quite literally the worst day of your life. You woke up, hungover and hangry, on the hunt for Jimmy so you could borrow his phone because yours had been smashed into pieces from the party you had thrown the night before. With Your sunglasses gripped tightly in your right hand and your kate spade purse in your left, you barge in, all eyes of the bullpen falling onto your loud entrance. The only person you looked back at was Clark. His hair a mess and glasses crooked on his face, you gave him a blank stare which you have to admit was probably a bit too pointed. He just gave a small nod and went back to clacking the keys on his keyboard as Jimmy ushered you over to the coffee station.

The second time was at the after party you threw for your costar, Jimmy had been the first you invited and in turn that meant the whole daily planet crew had been dragged along. Your apartment was decked out in glitter, champagne towers, your favorite dancing music and short dresses. As the night dwelled on, you played the part of the hostess perfectly, making everyone have fun if it was the last thing you would ever do and putting party hats on anyone who’d ask. So when you saw Clark sitting in the corner of the room, away from the dancing and the bad singing, one lonely beer sitting in his hand, you jump over to join his side. The conversation was more awkward than you expected because you’ve rarely ever had conversations with nothing to say as of late. You invite him to dance, he very politely declines and your furrow your brow before promptly walking away, a certain edge to each step.

The third time was probably the worst. The meanest. You had been in a horrible mood all day, you and your shitty boyfriend had broken up the day prior, you just learned you had to shoot your movie for another month and your new puppy had chewed up your favorite heels. Worst of all? Your favorite coffee shop had closed. So in order to cheer yourself up, you visited Jimmy while he worked, you complained, he listened, threw in a few snarky comments that managed to get a chuckle out of you. By the end of your third hour there, you stand up to leave, straightening out your new dove white dress that you had waited years to be able to get and turned on your heel, right into Clark. Brown liquid spilled all over your dress, staining it. And suddenly all that anger came bubbling back up to the surface. You yelled, called him an asshole. It was undeserved, really it was but you just needed someone to yell all your unsteady emotions at. He just stood there and took it, until you bursted into tears, mascara smearing under your eyes. Clark apologized over and over again, Jimmy flew over, moving you away from Clark and the whole embarrassing interaction.

Flowers got sent to your apartment with a small note saying ‘im really sorry about your dress’ under it, flakes signature, the next morning but you felt too sick about how horrible you had reacted to go back to the building and apologize.

So you stayed away and silent for as long as you could, well, Atleast until his article landed in your hands. So you dressed in your Sunday best, walked into the Daily planet, heels clacking against the tiled floor as you walk towards his desk, dropping your purse on the workspace and sitting in the chair infront of it.

“Can I help you with something?” He asks. Looking at Jimmy and Lois for help who just stare back into semi shock, semi laughing at how screwed he was.