The cowboy costume is decent enough, but there is no way I'm stuffing myself into that “Sexy Cowgirl” rag—especially since that idiot Ralph will probably be around to comment. Luckily, denim and flannel items are easy to find elsewhere. The Western-style boots and hat are harder to track down, but not by much, and then a quick trip to the hardware store turns up a length of rope for my lasso. Yee-ha, Partner!
When Clark opens his door, his eyes pop out of his head as if I *were* wearing the “sexy” version. “Lois! You look...” He swallows. “Great! You look great!” Something about his intense stare makes my own throat go dry.
I step into his apartment and hold out the box with his outfit in it. “Well, don't just stand there, Partner. Saddle up and let's hit the trail!”
He shakes his head with a laugh, takes the box, and disappears into his bedroom. In less time than is remotely fair, he's back, and he looks amazing. It's strange; I've seen Clark in jeans and a flannel shirt before. This shouldn't be anything new. But...I guess I just never let myself *look*. The way his broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the shirt, the hug of the jeans...even the cheaply-made hat and fake chaps make him look like something out of a Western Romance.
His eyes meet mine, and it's obvious he's caught me staring. What exactly is the protocol for this, now? Do I turn away and pretend to be oblivious to him, like I would have done just a few months ago? Or does our almost-dating status grant me the right to gawk at him like a hormonal teenager?
The clock saves me from having to think about it. “We...uh...better get going.”
“Right.” He opens the door for us, looking as flustered as I feel. “We should...right."
**********
By the time we arrive at the Planet, my heart is practically a jackhammer. I keep trying to remind myself that this is just Clark. Clark in a cheap hat. And we're going to a work function.
Together.
In matching costumes.
As soon as we enter the room, a football-player in a purple tee-shirt jogs up to us with a pogo-stick under his arm and a squirt-pistol holstered at his belt. “Lois! CK! You made it!” Jimmy grins under the helmet. “Nice costumes, Cow-pokes.”
Clark tips his hat. “Thanks! Um...yours is...interesting?”
Jimmy looks to me, as if he somehow expects me to enlighten Clark about this bizarre athlete. My blank look must be the same as Clark's, because Jimmy sighs. “Come on, guys, don't you ever play videogames?” He holds the pogo-stick aloft. “Commander Keen! I bounce around, fighting alien invaders! It's awesome!”
Clark looks at me, his eyebrows raised slightly. I only shrug.
“I'll make you some copies of my disks.” Jimmy tucks the pogo back under his arm and heads towards the punch bowl, where some of the girls from research have gathered.
Clark takes my hand, the cheap hat doing nothing to mitigate the dizzying effect of his smile. “Care to dance?”
I sternly remind the butterflies in my stomach that I've danced with this man before. “Sure!”
We make our way to the space that's been cleared to make a dance floor. A live band is playing, and quite a few couples are already swaying together. As more attendees start filling up the room, the music transitions to a line-dance.
I keep looking back at Clark, whose fake chaps stubbornly refuse to make him less sexy as he easily moves with the music, and after a while, all I can think about is that trip to Smallville. His surprise that I could Tush-Push. My surprise that his parents had a fax machine. That fun day at the Corn Festival, enjoying each other's company. That frightening encounter with Trask, ranting about alien invaders. Finding out so much about the people and the town that made Clark who he was. Nearly losing him to a madman.
At some point, Clark's grin starts to fade. He gently pulls me aside, away from the crowd of dancers, and looks at me with concern. “Hey, are you all right?”
“Yeah.” I swallow. “Just...thinking, I guess.”
“About what?”
So many thoughts are swirling through my head now that it's hard to even say. But, I guess if there's one thing that predominates, it's...
The Corn Festival The Close Call with Jason Trask 
