Chloe sits poised at her computer, her fingers quickly tapping the keyboard, capturing her thoughts as fast as they come to her. This is what fuels her, empowers her, makes her feel alive. Never did she look more radiant than now, when she's in her element, an heir of confidence and wisdom beyond her years creating a glow that's able to outshine all of the negativity in the world that she gets the pleasure to report on.

     Clark stands in the doorway, careful to not let her see him. He knows better than to stop her when she was on a roll and up against a deadline, but he also loves the rare moments when he can just watch her in her natural habitat.

      He leans his body against the door frame, quietly watching his best friend work. The lone light on in The Torch office illuminated her, allowing Clark to see her in what seemed light a new light. The clicks of her fingers on the keys tickled his ears, amusing him at how fast she could type. He had never noticed the way her lips mouthed the words as she spelled them out on the screen. It was an adorable little tick he couldnít believe he had never noticed it.

    Chloe, always in tune with what was going on in her office is able to sense his presence.

     "Clark! How long have you been standing there" she asks, looking up him.

     "Only a second, Chloe, I didn't want to interrupt you" Clark says, his eyes sparkling.

     She instantly notices a change in his face. There was something in his smile, something in his stare, something she couldn't put her finger on.

    "What is it? Is there something on my face?" Chloe asks, rubbing under her nose like a crazy woman. "I had this mocha chino earlier, do I have foam on my lip?" she asks, licking her upper lip with her tongue.

     Clark can't help but laugh at her obsessive behavior . "No, you look beautiful" he says, offering her more of that smile that seemed to set her off.

     Chloe doesn't  adjust to change well, especially when it involved Clark. She lived with the constant fear that one day he would see her like the rest of the world did, and stop being her friend. Her mind began to fly, assuming the worst. Wait! Did he say 'beautiful'?

     Chloe often felt she was hidden in the shadow of Lana Lang and the other beautiful girls that bounced down the hallway demanding the attention of all those they passed by. She never felt pretty, or good enough to catch the eye of any guy, much less those belonging to Clark Kent. For as much as she longed for guys to desire her, her self consciousness often made her seem unattractive, consigning her to the rank of good friend.

     Raised by a single father, she was not afforded the luxury of make-up lessons, designer clothes and a mother's gentle fashion advice. She was left to figure it out for herself, finding her own unique style. The combination of her mom's vintage suit jackets with her latest thrift shop find melded together to create her signature style. Lacking the luxury of gold and silver she had to accessorize with plastic flowers she turned into a pins, or a funky purses she whipped up on her mom's old singer.  Funky, quirky, different clothes seemed to help her express all of the spirit and originality she has in her, just waiting to boil to the surface.

     In the judgmental arena that is high school, Chloe's second hand style of dress might be giggled about by those who followed the trends, the cookie-cutter Gap gang who made Smallville High appear that uniforms were in play, but actually they were the ones who appeared lacking in fashion.

     Now, at seventeen, she was well adjusted to the looks and whispers of the pom pom crowd, almost able to completely ignore them. All her life she had felt like an outsider, never really finding a clique that would accept her. Her intelligence often got in the way of the normal girl things. When she was twelve she had sealed her fate as a loner when she was asked out by a boy in her class. Not getting that this meant holding hands and passing notes, the literal, logical Chloe asked him how they were supposed to go anywhere considering he couldnít drive. This honest question gave her a reputation of being a snob, and so she endured treatment similar to one who had been blacklisted.

     Pete and Clark were the only boys that really seemed to notice she existed. Yet, they only saw her as just another one of the guys, and so she played along, everyday hiding the heart within her that longed to be looked at like a rose, instead of just another stalk of corn.

     The word 'beautiful' hung in the air, oddly making her the one who felt awkward, while he stood confidently beaming. Could the odd curve in his smile mean that for the first time he really did see her that way?