The bass thumped hard enough to rattle the glasses on the bar, lights strobing across a sea of dancers. You pushed your way through the crowd, the smell of smoke and sweat clinging to your clothes as you searched for Chloe. You hadn’t wanted to come here, but something about tonight had felt…off. Like a tug in your gut she couldn’t explain.

You froze halfway to the dance floor.

Clark Kent was here.

Not the Clark you knew—the boy who carried himself with quiet humility and nervous smiles—but the other one. His leather jacket glinted under the club lights as he leaned against a booth, lips locked with a girl you didn’t recognize. His hand was splayed possessively across the girl’s hip, and when he finally pulled back, the smirk that slid across his face wasn’t Clark’s.

Your heart lurched. You knew that smirk.

Red kryptonite.

He saw you then, across the crowd, and his eyes lingered like a spark catching dry wood. The girl in his arms became an afterthought; he whispered something in her ear and sent her off with a wink, before straightening to his full height.

The reckless grin he wore as he stalked toward you was all sharp edges and unspoken challenges.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice dripping with confidence Clark never let himself use. “Look who decided to show up. Miss me, baby?”

You folded your arms, trying to steady your voice over the pounding bass. “Funny way of showing it. Last I checked, making out with random girls doesn’t exactly scream I missed you.”

Clark tilted his head, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips. “Jealous? Because, trust me, if I wanted to make you forget every other guy in this place, I could do it in a heartbeat.”