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𝑷𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑺𝒎𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒗𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒆
November 2003
"I don't think your dad likes me very much."
Ariella lifted her gaze from her sketchbook and blinked at Lex standing before her. "Because of the robbery?"
Lex nodded and sat across from her on the patio. "Yeah."
It spread fast, probably because it was a small town. News about Lex and the attempted robbery early in the week traveled like wildfire. She could see how everyone looked at him, wary if they would get thrown in a glass window like he did Clark.
But Ariella didn't believe that was why her dad wasn't a fan of Lex. She suspected it had more to do with Lex's father, Lionel.
"I ran into him," Lex explained. "He told me to stay away from you."
Ariella sighed. "Don't take it personally. He's always like that."
"Overprotective?" Lex guessed.
She nodded. "Yeah."
"You're talented," Lex said, pointing to her sketchbook.
A small smile graced Ariella's lips. "Thanks." She closed her sketchbook, set her pencil down, and gave Lex her full attention. "Lex, I know you're Clark's friend, but why do you care what I think about you?"
"All my life, I've grown up taught to take what I want and destroy my enemies no matter the consequences," Lex revealed. "But you don't live like that, Ariella. You and Clark believe in the good in people." He paused. "I guess I want that around to keep the darkness away."
Ariella could see the truth reflected in his eyes. She never knew until now how hard it must be for Lex to be a Luthor. The pressure from his dad and the assumptions everyone already made about him—she couldn't even imagine.
"Are you waiting on Clark?" Lex asked.
Ariella nodded. "Yeah, we're working on a project together."
Lex, with a knowing smile, got to his feet. "I see."
"Hey, Ariella."
She turned from Lex's retreating figure and smiled at Clark across from her. "Hi,"
He pulled the worksheet from his backpack, and Ariella closed her sketchbook while pulling her own out of her bag.
"So, favorite color?" Clark asked, his pencil tipped on the page.
Ariella stared into his eyes. "Light blue," she admitted, then quickly averted her gaze, shading in a delicate cherry blossom on the edge of her worksheet. "It was my mother's favorite and slowly became mine."
