Clark Kent was a farmer. An ordinary, average student who was polite, and a little awkward at times.
And he interested you. People, like Pete, would push him down, and he always held back. He never threw a punch, never defended himself. It bothered you. Because if you got pushed, heck, you were gonna shove that jerk back.
Loading the school bus you heard Pete messing with him again, "C'mon farmer! You shouldn't be growing crops today?" he teased ruffling Clark's messy black hair.
Aggravated Clark pushed him away. You rolled your eyes, the immaturity. "And shouldn't you be in juvenile prison or something?" you snapped at the bully.
Pete furrowed his brows, "Taking up for Kent? How sweet you can raise some cows together." he cooed mockingly.
You ignored him and looked for somewhere to sit. No one was offering their seat. Sighing you turned to leave until you heard a firm thump, "Hey, (Y/L/N), " Clark called. You turned back around. He patted the empty seat next to him encouragingly.
Embarrassed you sat next to him, Pete and his gang crooning the whole time.
You always admired Clark from afar. Sure, he didn't fight, but that didn't make him a wimp. You were crushing on him. So when you sat next to each other, your cheeks burned red, as you hugged your bag to your chest.
"Thanks for that." he laughed quietly in your ear, "It was a nice try."
"You can't win them all." you answered.
