The Exception to the Rules
Part 10: The It Girl Busts a Move
Finishing their long procession down the gala’s red carpet, Chloe and Oliver entered the Metropolis Grand’s hotel lobby with gasps of thorough relief.
“I see spots,” she muttered sullenly as Oliver led her to the massive, sweeping staircase that opened up to the building’s immense ballroom. “Big, splotchy, purpley-reddish, floating, blurry spots.”
“Tell me about it,” he agreed, squeezing his eyes shut and popping them back open a few times, his head shaking until his vision cleared.
“That,” he announced, pointing back at the press scrum they’d just survived, “was insane.”
“Well, I warned you,” Chloe quipped, fishing her hand into her gauzy skirt to tuck up the front as they began ascending the stairs. “Hanging out with me is gonna get you noticed. My celebrity status guarantees it.”
“So true,” Oliver laughed. “Everywhere I go its Chloe Sullivan this, Chloe Sullivan that… it’s a real burden living in your shadow.”
“Not everyone can handle it,” she mused just as her heel caught up in the crinoline lining her skirt. Though the stumble wasn’t enough to cause a full-fledged trip, it served its purpose in reminding her that there was some serious work involved when wearing such a garment.
“Hey, gear down a bit Daddy Long Legs,” she muttered as she tugged at him. “The manual this thing came with specifically said it can’t take stairs two at a time.”
“Noted,” he smirked as his pace relaxed and he tucked her arm more securely into the crook of his elbow, ready to make good on his promise to catch her if needed.
They arrived at the landing without incident and with a grateful sigh, she released the dual death grips she had on both the dress and Oliver, comforted a little by the knowledge that all flooring from here on out was flat and smooth. As they entered the ballroom, she felt the breath in her lungs dispel in slow appreciation as she marvelled at the beauty of the space she now stood in.
Everything was softly lit with light blues, purples and pinks, the colours bouncing strikingly off yards of draped, white silk that hung from all the way up in the vaulted ceiling. A huge band of musicians wearing matching white tuxedo jackets were playing on the stage, the whispery music that floated from their instruments drifting about in perfect harmony with the chatter of the guests and the clinking of crystal champagne glasses. Everywhere she turned, exquisite floral arrangements burst forward, each one a more impressive work of art than the last, their subtle perfumes wafting up around her to dazzle her senses as she breathed them in.
Feeling eyes upon her, she turned to find Oliver looking down at her with a grin, taking in the sight of her taking in the décor.
“Not bad,” she shrugged nonchalantly, down playing her awe though her eyes continued to roam the ornate room eagerly, picking out more and more little details to fall in love with.
Unfortunately, her admiring perusal of the venue was cut short when the other guests took note of the Oliver Queen’s arrival and groups of them quickly buzzed over to snatch up as much of the billionaire’s attention as they could.
They worked their way around the room at a painfully slow pace, Oliver greeting many of the guests by name, offering each one a firm handshake and the charming smile that seemed permanently screwed to his face. Chloe watched in amazement as both men and woman alike melted in his presence, all of them turning into little fan girls as he offered them snippets of his time. Following his lead, she kept her own unwavering smile fixed to her lips and nodded politely to the various guests who kept cutting their eyes at her in fascination as they babbled away to Oliver.
At first, she made a valiant effort to catalogue all the names, faces and titles that were being thrown at her fast and furious, and she wasn’t doing too badly until she realized that they were only half through the receiving line. To spare her brain a frying by useless information, she gave up the effort entirely and instead, let her eyes drift over to study Oliver’s easy grace as he naturally assumed this role his birthright required of him.
She watched as he volleyed ideas for a potential business venture back and forth with a trio of men who were thoroughly engrossed in his every opinion, insight and comment. Demonstrating both business savvy and boat loads of charisma, he pointed out holes in their proposition tactfully, came up with solutions on the fly, and even assembled a list of prospective partners within just a few short minutes. Fascinated by his performance, Chloe tried to listen as he shaped and moulded the simple idea into a very real possibility, but the pandering of the three older men quickly became too distracting to bear, so she allowed her attention to fall away from the conversation and went back to lazily surveying the beautiful ballroom, only to have her eyes catch on the sight of a familiar smile shining in her direction.
Her own smile morphing from pasted to genuine, she slid her arm away from Oliver and, ignoring the other guests she was still supposed to meet, cut a path directly across the room towards Dr. Marshall.
“Miss Sullivan!” The sweet natured gentleman enthused as she approached. “What a wonderful surprise!”
“So nice to see you again, Dr. Marshall,” she grinned as she accepted his outstretched hand and felt all at once refreshed in his presence.
“And please, call me Chloe… Miss Sullivan makes me feel like I’m back in detention.”
Dr. Marshall laughed openly, clearly enjoying this unexpected second helping of the wit he’d encountered the prior day.
“Only if you call me Charles,” he proposed as he released her hand and with a smile, gestured to the elegant lady at his side. “My beautiful wife Adelle.”
Chloe smiled warmly as she shook the lovely woman’s hand, instantly appreciating her gracefully aged beauty, so unfussy and relaxed compared to all the painted cougars that were prowling around the room.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Chloe,” the older woman greeted kindly. “I was just telling Charles that you are - hands down - the prettiest creature in this room!”
Chloe blushed at the praise, recalling similar smiles and compliments she’d received from Martha Kent over the years and feeling the same swell of pleasure at the generous approval.
“It’s the dress,” she downplayed, immensely satisfied that Dr. Marshall had the good sense to marry a woman who projected the same aura of pleasantness as him. “You can’t miss something that has its own gravitational pull.”
“And she’s modest too,” Adelle observed contentedly. “Won’t you just be a breath of fresh air!”
“So you decided to try out the soiree circuit after all,” Charles smiled teasingly.
Chloe hooked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing in Oliver’s general direction on the other side of the room.
“Like you said,” she chirped. “Manipulative.”
“The word Dr. Marshall used was persuasive,” Oliver corrected with a grin as he came up behind her and settled his warm hand flush against her lower back, leaning forward to shake Charles’s hand happily and dropping a polite kiss on Adelle’s cheek.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Chloe mused cheekily.
“I’m so glad you could both make it,” Oliver continued, his eyes rolling away from Chloe’s snarking with a smile.
“I’d never miss it,” Adelle declared. “These events of yours are always a veritable how-to-guide for hitting up potential benefactors.”
Quirking a brow, Chloe was about to ask the older woman what she meant when Oliver helpfully supplied the answer to the question she had yet to voice.
“Adelle chairs Marshall Continuing Education,” he explained with pride. “It’s a free, all-ages learning centre for individuals with special needs and one of the Queen Foundation’s favourite charitable organizations.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Chloe nodded, surprised she hadn’t made the connection herself. “You do wonderful work.”
“The teachers do the work,” Adelle dismissed graciously. “I just make sure the place keeps running.”
“Which is no small feat,” Charles complimented, squeezing his wife proudly and reminding Chloe of Martha all over again.
“What about you Chloe?” Charles asked curiously, tearing his adoring eyes slowly away from his wife. “What profession is lucky enough to count you amongst its ranks?”
Oh, well, she thought to herself, I work for the big guy here, running operations for his underground league of superheroes. You know, fighting crime and corruption and basically bringing justice to the known world and all its inhabitants. It’s kind of a big deal.
“I run a counselling centre a very good friend of mine founded,” she answered instead.
“Really?” Adelle remarked, eyes wide. “As young as you are? That’s marvellous! What centre is it?”
“Oh, it’s just a small, hole in the wall,” she stressed vaguely, hoping her tone was coming across as self-effacing as opposed to secretive.
“Our functions are on a considerably smaller scale than this… less champagne, more pizza, really.”
Both Charles and Adelle laughed at her deprecating, but she could tell they didn’t totally buy her comments and rather, were tactfully respecting her obvious desire to get off the hook. Thankfully, the band chose that moment to launch pleasantly into a new set, providing Oliver with an easy subject change.
“So, what will it take to get you out on the dance floor, hmm?” he asked her, the taunting tone of his voice lighting smiles on both Charles and Adelle’s faces.
“Look,” she stated as she stared wearily at the expanse of polished hardwood that already had various couples creeping out onto it, “you need to learn to quit while you’re ahead. You got me here, let’s leave it at that.”
Her three companions chuckled over her trepidation.
“Well, guess I’ll just have to find someone a little more accommodating,” Oliver grinned as he turned to Adelle and gallantly offered his arm.
“Shall we?”
Returning his smile, Adelle looped her arm around his and sent an enchanting look to her husband.
“Don’t wait up darling,” she quipped as she and Oliver glided onto the floor, flowing perfectly with the classically understated music.
“I fear my wife may have a little crush on your boyfriend,” Charles joked to Chloe as they watched Oliver and Adelle from the sidelines. “I’ll be hearing about this for the next month, I’m sure.”
Trying to cover up the way her eyes popped out of her head at his reference to Oliver being her boyfriend, Chloe found herself stammering out a version of the truth.
“We’re not really together, together,” she babbled, her hands lifting to make jerky air quotes.
She knew she should just let Charles believe the image she and Oliver were projecting, but she was unbearably compelled to set the record straight with this man who had been nothing but nice to her.
“It’s just, you know…” She scrambled for something appropriate.
“New?” Charles supplied helpfully, his gentle smile proving positively heart-warming.
“Yeah sure, that,” she allowed, wishing it wasn’t still a lie, but feeling as though she’d at least curtailed the commonly held assumption about them just a bit.
“Well, you two make an exceedingly amiable pair,” he lauded lightly. “I thought that the moment you both walked into my office yesterday. In fact - and please forgive me if this sounds condescending - you two remind me of myself and Adelle when we were your age.”
Chloe’s cheeks flamed scarlet, but his obvious sincerity made it possible for her to smile despite her sudden bashfulness.
“Not condescending at all,” she assured him. “Quite the compliment, actually.”
“Why thank you,” he grinned.
Seeming to sense that he’d unintentionally landed her in an awkward predicament, he turned to face her fully, extending his arm towards her.
“I realize that you’re not inclined to dance,” he began courteously, “but how about you help an old fella show the love of his life that he still knows a thing or two about sweeping women off their feet?”
“I worry I’ll spoil the effect when this dress sends me on my backside,” she laughed.
He glanced down at her gown, sharing her smile.
“It is quite the show-stopper,” he acknowledged. “Must weigh a ton.”
“You don’t even know the half of it!” She exclaimed, grateful for some sympathy at last.
“I venture Oliver got it for you?” he chuckled knowingly.
“Persuasive,” she griped, the simple word causing Charles to laugh heartily.
“Well, you look radiant, so it’s not all bad,” he appeased, winning her over easily with another one of his grins.
Leaning towards the Doctor with a smile, she motioned for him to do the same.
“Promise not to tell him,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but I have to admit I kind of like it.”
He laughed again, offering his arm to her once more and this time she accepted without hesitation.
“Consider this your fair warning,” she lectured as they moved easily into the small, waltzing crowd. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Neither am I,” Charles promised. “We’ll look awful together.”
“Wonderful,” Chloe giggled as he guided her effortlessly to the music, instantly demonstrating that he’d out-and-out lied about his dancing prowess.
To their left, she could see Adelle smiling at them delightedly while Oliver’s expression was all mock-indignation.
“Well, we don’t seem to be getting through to Adelle,” Charles observed wryly, “but we’ve certainly proven a point to Oliver.”
“Let him sulk,” she bragged. “It’d be good for that ego of his.”
“So this is how it is?” Oliver asked humorously as he and Adelle twirled up beside them, the older woman alight with laughter. “You’ll dance with Charles but not me?”
“I simply couldn’t refuse,” she confirmed flippantly.
“Now, now,” Charles reprimanded sarcastically. “No need to get in a huff Oliver, I was merely luring the lady out here for your benefit.”
Without warning, Charles spun her arm over her head and deposited her against Oliver’s chest where she landed with a clumsy thud. Having vacated her spot with far more grace than Chloe had exhibited, Adelle drifted easily into her husband’s waiting embrace.
“A set up?” Chloe exclaimed. “I knew you two were in cahoots!”
Offering only a smile and a shrug, Dr. Marshall turned affectionately to his wife and together, they sailed off to enjoy their dance in their own little world.
Looking up to find Oliver smirking as her, she readjusted the hold she had on her skirt and shifted slightly to accommodate her new and considerably taller dance partner.
“I can’t believe it took a ploy to get you to dance with me,” he kidded as he took her hand and began leading her slowly, their conversation dictating their rhythm more than the music. “It’s cause he’s a Doctor, isn’t it? Girls are always after the Doctors.”
“Yes, because billionaires are so unappealing,” she drawled.
“I’m appealing, am I?” He prodded teasingly, his brow quirking as he pulled her closer, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
“Oliver, I’m a heterosexual female,” she stated blandly. “It’s practically mandatory that I recognize your appeal, even if it’s only in passing.”
“Whoa! Don’t hold back Sidekick,” he laughed. “Tell me how you really feel!”
She paused in that second, suddenly wondering what it was she was feeling. Pressed against his body and pinned by the perfect smile he was beaming at her, it was pretty easy to forget that this wasn’t a date. Alarms sounded in her brain and she instantly reminded herself that any ridiculous romantic rumblings on her part would have her heart handing over its letter of resignation faster than she could say lack of danger pay. Plus, she’d travelled down unrequited road before and was very aware of the fact that it was a long, bumpy ride that always came to a dead end. Had the best friend to prove it and everything.
“Hey,” Oliver called to her softly, drawing her faraway eyes back to his. “What’s going on in there?”
Her brows lowered in confusion, so he clarified his question by reaching their clasped hands towards her and tapping her forehead with a gentle index finger.
“Just concentrating on my dancing,” she replied, lying through her smile.
He grinned his Oliver grin and it left her both warm and cold.
An unexpected flash lit up in her periphery and her head snapped around to discover a lone shutterbug that had them in his camera’s sights. A second flash popped brightly in her eyes and she immediately lowered her head a little closer to Oliver’s chest in an effort to hide her face.
“I thought you had security at this shindig,” she chided. “Or are all those guys skulking around in the black suits just for decoration?”
“Got to give some of the press access for publicity,” he responded, his head lowering near hers in a similar effort to gain a piece of privacy.
“Necessary evil, I’m afraid.”
“Sure,” she muttered as her treacherous head full-out ignored her internal declarations from moments ago and closed the distance to rest upon his chest.
“So, how’s it feel to be this evening’s It Girl?” She heard him ask, his chin pressing against the crown of her head as he spoke and his chest reverberating under her ear.
“It Girl?” She questioned wonderingly. “Is that what I am?”
“The talk of the room,” he confirmed as his hand drifted against the material of her dress, stroking her back.
“Never been that before,” she admitted quietly, the words honest, surprised.
“Somehow I doubt that,” he contradicted and she could actually feel his smile.
She was struck by the sensation, unable to figure out when exactly she’d come to know all of his smirks, grins, and smiles so terribly well. Lost in her own musing, she barely noticed as their conversation faded away and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, both swaying slowly with the music as the band wound seamlessly into a new song and their first dance melted into their second.
It Girl, she pondered thoughtfully. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to having a daydream or two about being that girl when she was younger - a Lana or a Lois. Despite the fact that she’d grown far more comfortable in her own skin over the years, she still held a little piece of that envy that used to turn up every once in a while during her childhood. No matter how easy it was to recognize that her own charm and wit and beauty were wholly appealing, there was always going to be a little, spunky, tomboy that wondered what it would like to be the girl that the Clarks and the Olivers of the world bowed down and worshipped.
At that moment, the bonafide Prince Charming she was dancing with let his hand absently glide up her spine, pausing to caress her neck before his fingers moved to graze a delicate path across her bare shoulder blades.
Her heart hammered erratically in her chest and she mentally patted herself on the back for having had the foresight to hide her face against his chest, knowing he couldn’t see the color spreading warmly through her cheeks. Despite her better judgement, she threw caution to the wind and submitted to indulgence, sinking deeper into Oliver’s arms as she let her inner It Girl out to simply bask in it all - at least until they stopped dancing.
Chapter 11 can be found here novadelphine.livejournal.com/4712.html#cutid1
Finishing their long procession down the gala’s red carpet, Chloe and Oliver entered the Metropolis Grand’s hotel lobby with gasps of thorough relief.
“I see spots,” she muttered sullenly as Oliver led her to the massive, sweeping staircase that opened up to the building’s immense ballroom. “Big, splotchy, purpley-reddish, floating, blurry spots.”
“Tell me about it,” he agreed, squeezing his eyes shut and popping them back open a few times, his head shaking until his vision cleared.
“That,” he announced, pointing back at the press scrum they’d just survived, “was insane.”
“Well, I warned you,” Chloe quipped, fishing her hand into her gauzy skirt to tuck up the front as they began ascending the stairs. “Hanging out with me is gonna get you noticed. My celebrity status guarantees it.”
“So true,” Oliver laughed. “Everywhere I go its Chloe Sullivan this, Chloe Sullivan that… it’s a real burden living in your shadow.”
“Not everyone can handle it,” she mused just as her heel caught up in the crinoline lining her skirt. Though the stumble wasn’t enough to cause a full-fledged trip, it served its purpose in reminding her that there was some serious work involved when wearing such a garment.
“Hey, gear down a bit Daddy Long Legs,” she muttered as she tugged at him. “The manual this thing came with specifically said it can’t take stairs two at a time.”
“Noted,” he smirked as his pace relaxed and he tucked her arm more securely into the crook of his elbow, ready to make good on his promise to catch her if needed.
They arrived at the landing without incident and with a grateful sigh, she released the dual death grips she had on both the dress and Oliver, comforted a little by the knowledge that all flooring from here on out was flat and smooth. As they entered the ballroom, she felt the breath in her lungs dispel in slow appreciation as she marvelled at the beauty of the space she now stood in.
Everything was softly lit with light blues, purples and pinks, the colours bouncing strikingly off yards of draped, white silk that hung from all the way up in the vaulted ceiling. A huge band of musicians wearing matching white tuxedo jackets were playing on the stage, the whispery music that floated from their instruments drifting about in perfect harmony with the chatter of the guests and the clinking of crystal champagne glasses. Everywhere she turned, exquisite floral arrangements burst forward, each one a more impressive work of art than the last, their subtle perfumes wafting up around her to dazzle her senses as she breathed them in.
Feeling eyes upon her, she turned to find Oliver looking down at her with a grin, taking in the sight of her taking in the décor.
“Not bad,” she shrugged nonchalantly, down playing her awe though her eyes continued to roam the ornate room eagerly, picking out more and more little details to fall in love with.
Unfortunately, her admiring perusal of the venue was cut short when the other guests took note of the Oliver Queen’s arrival and groups of them quickly buzzed over to snatch up as much of the billionaire’s attention as they could.
They worked their way around the room at a painfully slow pace, Oliver greeting many of the guests by name, offering each one a firm handshake and the charming smile that seemed permanently screwed to his face. Chloe watched in amazement as both men and woman alike melted in his presence, all of them turning into little fan girls as he offered them snippets of his time. Following his lead, she kept her own unwavering smile fixed to her lips and nodded politely to the various guests who kept cutting their eyes at her in fascination as they babbled away to Oliver.
At first, she made a valiant effort to catalogue all the names, faces and titles that were being thrown at her fast and furious, and she wasn’t doing too badly until she realized that they were only half through the receiving line. To spare her brain a frying by useless information, she gave up the effort entirely and instead, let her eyes drift over to study Oliver’s easy grace as he naturally assumed this role his birthright required of him.
She watched as he volleyed ideas for a potential business venture back and forth with a trio of men who were thoroughly engrossed in his every opinion, insight and comment. Demonstrating both business savvy and boat loads of charisma, he pointed out holes in their proposition tactfully, came up with solutions on the fly, and even assembled a list of prospective partners within just a few short minutes. Fascinated by his performance, Chloe tried to listen as he shaped and moulded the simple idea into a very real possibility, but the pandering of the three older men quickly became too distracting to bear, so she allowed her attention to fall away from the conversation and went back to lazily surveying the beautiful ballroom, only to have her eyes catch on the sight of a familiar smile shining in her direction.
Her own smile morphing from pasted to genuine, she slid her arm away from Oliver and, ignoring the other guests she was still supposed to meet, cut a path directly across the room towards Dr. Marshall.
“Miss Sullivan!” The sweet natured gentleman enthused as she approached. “What a wonderful surprise!”
“So nice to see you again, Dr. Marshall,” she grinned as she accepted his outstretched hand and felt all at once refreshed in his presence.
“And please, call me Chloe… Miss Sullivan makes me feel like I’m back in detention.”
Dr. Marshall laughed openly, clearly enjoying this unexpected second helping of the wit he’d encountered the prior day.
“Only if you call me Charles,” he proposed as he released her hand and with a smile, gestured to the elegant lady at his side. “My beautiful wife Adelle.”
Chloe smiled warmly as she shook the lovely woman’s hand, instantly appreciating her gracefully aged beauty, so unfussy and relaxed compared to all the painted cougars that were prowling around the room.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you Chloe,” the older woman greeted kindly. “I was just telling Charles that you are - hands down - the prettiest creature in this room!”
Chloe blushed at the praise, recalling similar smiles and compliments she’d received from Martha Kent over the years and feeling the same swell of pleasure at the generous approval.
“It’s the dress,” she downplayed, immensely satisfied that Dr. Marshall had the good sense to marry a woman who projected the same aura of pleasantness as him. “You can’t miss something that has its own gravitational pull.”
“And she’s modest too,” Adelle observed contentedly. “Won’t you just be a breath of fresh air!”
“So you decided to try out the soiree circuit after all,” Charles smiled teasingly.
Chloe hooked a thumb over her shoulder, gesturing in Oliver’s general direction on the other side of the room.
“Like you said,” she chirped. “Manipulative.”
“The word Dr. Marshall used was persuasive,” Oliver corrected with a grin as he came up behind her and settled his warm hand flush against her lower back, leaning forward to shake Charles’s hand happily and dropping a polite kiss on Adelle’s cheek.
“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” Chloe mused cheekily.
“I’m so glad you could both make it,” Oliver continued, his eyes rolling away from Chloe’s snarking with a smile.
“I’d never miss it,” Adelle declared. “These events of yours are always a veritable how-to-guide for hitting up potential benefactors.”
Quirking a brow, Chloe was about to ask the older woman what she meant when Oliver helpfully supplied the answer to the question she had yet to voice.
“Adelle chairs Marshall Continuing Education,” he explained with pride. “It’s a free, all-ages learning centre for individuals with special needs and one of the Queen Foundation’s favourite charitable organizations.”
“I’ve heard of it,” Chloe nodded, surprised she hadn’t made the connection herself. “You do wonderful work.”
“The teachers do the work,” Adelle dismissed graciously. “I just make sure the place keeps running.”
“Which is no small feat,” Charles complimented, squeezing his wife proudly and reminding Chloe of Martha all over again.
“What about you Chloe?” Charles asked curiously, tearing his adoring eyes slowly away from his wife. “What profession is lucky enough to count you amongst its ranks?”
Oh, well, she thought to herself, I work for the big guy here, running operations for his underground league of superheroes. You know, fighting crime and corruption and basically bringing justice to the known world and all its inhabitants. It’s kind of a big deal.
“I run a counselling centre a very good friend of mine founded,” she answered instead.
“Really?” Adelle remarked, eyes wide. “As young as you are? That’s marvellous! What centre is it?”
“Oh, it’s just a small, hole in the wall,” she stressed vaguely, hoping her tone was coming across as self-effacing as opposed to secretive.
“Our functions are on a considerably smaller scale than this… less champagne, more pizza, really.”
Both Charles and Adelle laughed at her deprecating, but she could tell they didn’t totally buy her comments and rather, were tactfully respecting her obvious desire to get off the hook. Thankfully, the band chose that moment to launch pleasantly into a new set, providing Oliver with an easy subject change.
“So, what will it take to get you out on the dance floor, hmm?” he asked her, the taunting tone of his voice lighting smiles on both Charles and Adelle’s faces.
“Look,” she stated as she stared wearily at the expanse of polished hardwood that already had various couples creeping out onto it, “you need to learn to quit while you’re ahead. You got me here, let’s leave it at that.”
Her three companions chuckled over her trepidation.
“Well, guess I’ll just have to find someone a little more accommodating,” Oliver grinned as he turned to Adelle and gallantly offered his arm.
“Shall we?”
Returning his smile, Adelle looped her arm around his and sent an enchanting look to her husband.
“Don’t wait up darling,” she quipped as she and Oliver glided onto the floor, flowing perfectly with the classically understated music.
“I fear my wife may have a little crush on your boyfriend,” Charles joked to Chloe as they watched Oliver and Adelle from the sidelines. “I’ll be hearing about this for the next month, I’m sure.”
Trying to cover up the way her eyes popped out of her head at his reference to Oliver being her boyfriend, Chloe found herself stammering out a version of the truth.
“We’re not really together, together,” she babbled, her hands lifting to make jerky air quotes.
She knew she should just let Charles believe the image she and Oliver were projecting, but she was unbearably compelled to set the record straight with this man who had been nothing but nice to her.
“It’s just, you know…” She scrambled for something appropriate.
“New?” Charles supplied helpfully, his gentle smile proving positively heart-warming.
“Yeah sure, that,” she allowed, wishing it wasn’t still a lie, but feeling as though she’d at least curtailed the commonly held assumption about them just a bit.
“Well, you two make an exceedingly amiable pair,” he lauded lightly. “I thought that the moment you both walked into my office yesterday. In fact - and please forgive me if this sounds condescending - you two remind me of myself and Adelle when we were your age.”
Chloe’s cheeks flamed scarlet, but his obvious sincerity made it possible for her to smile despite her sudden bashfulness.
“Not condescending at all,” she assured him. “Quite the compliment, actually.”
“Why thank you,” he grinned.
Seeming to sense that he’d unintentionally landed her in an awkward predicament, he turned to face her fully, extending his arm towards her.
“I realize that you’re not inclined to dance,” he began courteously, “but how about you help an old fella show the love of his life that he still knows a thing or two about sweeping women off their feet?”
“I worry I’ll spoil the effect when this dress sends me on my backside,” she laughed.
He glanced down at her gown, sharing her smile.
“It is quite the show-stopper,” he acknowledged. “Must weigh a ton.”
“You don’t even know the half of it!” She exclaimed, grateful for some sympathy at last.
“I venture Oliver got it for you?” he chuckled knowingly.
“Persuasive,” she griped, the simple word causing Charles to laugh heartily.
“Well, you look radiant, so it’s not all bad,” he appeased, winning her over easily with another one of his grins.
Leaning towards the Doctor with a smile, she motioned for him to do the same.
“Promise not to tell him,” she whispered conspiratorially, “but I have to admit I kind of like it.”
He laughed again, offering his arm to her once more and this time she accepted without hesitation.
“Consider this your fair warning,” she lectured as they moved easily into the small, waltzing crowd. “I’m not much of a dancer.”
“Neither am I,” Charles promised. “We’ll look awful together.”
“Wonderful,” Chloe giggled as he guided her effortlessly to the music, instantly demonstrating that he’d out-and-out lied about his dancing prowess.
To their left, she could see Adelle smiling at them delightedly while Oliver’s expression was all mock-indignation.
“Well, we don’t seem to be getting through to Adelle,” Charles observed wryly, “but we’ve certainly proven a point to Oliver.”
“Let him sulk,” she bragged. “It’d be good for that ego of his.”
“So this is how it is?” Oliver asked humorously as he and Adelle twirled up beside them, the older woman alight with laughter. “You’ll dance with Charles but not me?”
“I simply couldn’t refuse,” she confirmed flippantly.
“Now, now,” Charles reprimanded sarcastically. “No need to get in a huff Oliver, I was merely luring the lady out here for your benefit.”
Without warning, Charles spun her arm over her head and deposited her against Oliver’s chest where she landed with a clumsy thud. Having vacated her spot with far more grace than Chloe had exhibited, Adelle drifted easily into her husband’s waiting embrace.
“A set up?” Chloe exclaimed. “I knew you two were in cahoots!”
Offering only a smile and a shrug, Dr. Marshall turned affectionately to his wife and together, they sailed off to enjoy their dance in their own little world.
Looking up to find Oliver smirking as her, she readjusted the hold she had on her skirt and shifted slightly to accommodate her new and considerably taller dance partner.
“I can’t believe it took a ploy to get you to dance with me,” he kidded as he took her hand and began leading her slowly, their conversation dictating their rhythm more than the music. “It’s cause he’s a Doctor, isn’t it? Girls are always after the Doctors.”
“Yes, because billionaires are so unappealing,” she drawled.
“I’m appealing, am I?” He prodded teasingly, his brow quirking as he pulled her closer, forcing her to crane her neck to meet his eyes.
“Oliver, I’m a heterosexual female,” she stated blandly. “It’s practically mandatory that I recognize your appeal, even if it’s only in passing.”
“Whoa! Don’t hold back Sidekick,” he laughed. “Tell me how you really feel!”
She paused in that second, suddenly wondering what it was she was feeling. Pressed against his body and pinned by the perfect smile he was beaming at her, it was pretty easy to forget that this wasn’t a date. Alarms sounded in her brain and she instantly reminded herself that any ridiculous romantic rumblings on her part would have her heart handing over its letter of resignation faster than she could say lack of danger pay. Plus, she’d travelled down unrequited road before and was very aware of the fact that it was a long, bumpy ride that always came to a dead end. Had the best friend to prove it and everything.
“Hey,” Oliver called to her softly, drawing her faraway eyes back to his. “What’s going on in there?”
Her brows lowered in confusion, so he clarified his question by reaching their clasped hands towards her and tapping her forehead with a gentle index finger.
“Just concentrating on my dancing,” she replied, lying through her smile.
He grinned his Oliver grin and it left her both warm and cold.
An unexpected flash lit up in her periphery and her head snapped around to discover a lone shutterbug that had them in his camera’s sights. A second flash popped brightly in her eyes and she immediately lowered her head a little closer to Oliver’s chest in an effort to hide her face.
“I thought you had security at this shindig,” she chided. “Or are all those guys skulking around in the black suits just for decoration?”
“Got to give some of the press access for publicity,” he responded, his head lowering near hers in a similar effort to gain a piece of privacy.
“Necessary evil, I’m afraid.”
“Sure,” she muttered as her treacherous head full-out ignored her internal declarations from moments ago and closed the distance to rest upon his chest.
“So, how’s it feel to be this evening’s It Girl?” She heard him ask, his chin pressing against the crown of her head as he spoke and his chest reverberating under her ear.
“It Girl?” She questioned wonderingly. “Is that what I am?”
“The talk of the room,” he confirmed as his hand drifted against the material of her dress, stroking her back.
“Never been that before,” she admitted quietly, the words honest, surprised.
“Somehow I doubt that,” he contradicted and she could actually feel his smile.
She was struck by the sensation, unable to figure out when exactly she’d come to know all of his smirks, grins, and smiles so terribly well. Lost in her own musing, she barely noticed as their conversation faded away and they lapsed into a comfortable silence, both swaying slowly with the music as the band wound seamlessly into a new song and their first dance melted into their second.
It Girl, she pondered thoughtfully. She’d be lying if she didn’t admit to having a daydream or two about being that girl when she was younger - a Lana or a Lois. Despite the fact that she’d grown far more comfortable in her own skin over the years, she still held a little piece of that envy that used to turn up every once in a while during her childhood. No matter how easy it was to recognize that her own charm and wit and beauty were wholly appealing, there was always going to be a little, spunky, tomboy that wondered what it would like to be the girl that the Clarks and the Olivers of the world bowed down and worshipped.
At that moment, the bonafide Prince Charming she was dancing with let his hand absently glide up her spine, pausing to caress her neck before his fingers moved to graze a delicate path across her bare shoulder blades.
Her heart hammered erratically in her chest and she mentally patted herself on the back for having had the foresight to hide her face against his chest, knowing he couldn’t see the color spreading warmly through her cheeks. Despite her better judgement, she threw caution to the wind and submitted to indulgence, sinking deeper into Oliver’s arms as she let her inner It Girl out to simply bask in it all - at least until they stopped dancing.
Chapter 11 can be found here novadelphine.livejournal.com/4712.html#cutid1