I was late, but once she saw who I was she’d see that I had been worth the wait. Or not. What if Kristin didn’t forgive me?

A pointless question, look at the amount I was offering her, after all. And I had arrived anyway. Walking in, I saw just how busy the place was. The Gold-Rush-themed bar was packed with people who look appropriately ritzy—gentlemen with cigars and tall tipping drinks, ladies with beadwork dresses and charcoal stares. Perhaps I should’ve asked what Kristin would be wearing, but…in the corner there, that couldn’t be her, could it?

That silver sparkling dress, those big blue eyes that are looking at me… Why yes, yes it was.

As I sat across from her, poor Kristin Blair was speechless. It was cute, so I waited, gave the girl time to collect herself.

“It’s you…” she said in a low voice, which sounded surprised but not angry.

“I’m sorry for keeping my identity a secret,” I said, “But I figured if I did tell you, you probably wouldn’t come.”

Her eyes narrowed, then she nodded, laughed.

“You’re probably right.”

I took her hand and gazed into her eyes.

“I know it’s ancient history, but I have to apologize, Kristin. I am truly sorry for what happened at prom. For standing you up.”

Kristin nodded, drawing her hand away.

“Thank you.”

Our gazes met, then hers flicked away. Then, silence. It was weird; I would’ve thought she’d have been happier to see me. Most girls would kill for a date with Clark Denton, but maybe Kristin was still resentful about what had happened at prom.

“Well, what have you been up to?” I asked.

“I’m an IT contractor,” Kristin said, “Looks like all those computer science classes paid off.” She laughed. I had forgotten how pretty she was when she laughed.

“And I don’t have to ask what you’ve been doing,” she said, with a shy, admiring smile.

I waved my hand and shrugged, the magnanimous picture of humbleness.

“Let’s not talk about me. Tell me more about yourself, you certainly have more going on than just your job I presume.”

Irritation flickered through Kristin’s eyes, and then she shrugged.

“What, other than the fact that I’m now an infamous tabloid celebrity?”

I laughed.

“Well, I was going to wait until dessert to mention that but…”

At this, our waitress glided up.

“Can I get you two anything?”

“Two glasses of Pinot Grigio,” I told her, and the pert little blonde zipped away. Kristin was eyeing me steadily.

“What if I didn’t like wine?”

I grinned.

“More for me, then. Now, tell me about this website.”

Again, Kristin’s brow crinkled. I was about to tell her to forget it, when she said, “It was a mistake. I’m horribly embarrassed about it.”

“So, what? The offer’s off the table?” I asked, and now Kristin looked downright angry.

“What about you, Clark Denton? I presume you have more going on in your life than just work.”

Her tone was sarcastic, so I give her an equally sarcastic answer.

“Oh, you know. The usual, tropical vacations, a new girl about every week, a scrawny cat who doesn’t love me.”

The last part came out accidentally, so I paused. Kristin was tilting her head at me, as if she wasn’t sure what to make of me. Then, she burst out laughing.

“Really?”

“Really what?” I asked.

“You have a cat who’s indifferent to you, too?”

I found myself grinning.

“What, do you have one as well?”

Kristin shook her head.

“No, I have two. Two completely in love, completely indifferent to me cats.” We laughed and she continued, “I even spayed them, but that only made it worse: the hours-long cuddling sessions, the intense licking sprees. Though they were named Romeo and Juliet when I adopted them, so I don’t know what I expected.”

“Here you go,” our waitress said, her fake nails flashing as she placed our wine glasses on the table with a clink.

“What about you,” Kristin asked as she took a sip of her wine, “What’s your indifferent cat like?”

I took a drink, then shrugged.

“Just a scrawny princess, really. Can hardly stand to be in the same room as me, though it was my mother who got her for me, so she must have learned it from Mom.”

Kristin nodded.

“How is your mom?”

I took a longer drink of my wine.

“Oh, you know, about the same. My sister even has a kid now.”

Kristin’s face lit up.

“Oh yeah? A girl or a boy?”

“A boy, really cute kid. His name is…” I paused, as I tried to picture the name of the fat-cheeked kid I saw on Yvonne’s Facebook. “Sam. His name’s Sam.”

Kristin was looking at me oddly, but she only nodded.

After another silence and sip of her wine, she finally asked, “Why did you come here, Clark?”

As her blue eyes scanned my face I smiled.

“What, you don’t think I came just for old time’s sake?”

Now, Kristin was outright scowling.

“Is that all this is to you, a joke?”

I shook my head.

“No, it isn’t a joke. I just…when I saw you online, I was reminded of what I’d done. I felt bad. I want to make it up to you, make things right; give you the night you were denied.”

At my admission, Kristin’s face looked less thrilled then I’d expected; she actually looked like she was thinking it through! This was starting to get annoying.

But then, in a small voice, she said, “Okay. But how will it work?”

I flashed her a patented Clark Denton smile and told her my plan: “A date doing whatever your heart desires, then back to my house for the grand finale. You can even stay the night if you want. Then, in the morning, I’ll wire you the money.”

Kristin nodded, chewing at her lip. “Okay,” she said, then smiled. “Okay, let’s do it.”

“When?” I asked.

“Wednesday?” Kristin asked.

I nodded. “I can pick you up at 5.”

Kristin smiled, and then rose from her chair.

“What, going so soon?” I asked.

“I’ve had a rough day,” Kristin said in a quiet voice. A shadow passed over her face, and I saw just how truthful she was being, “I’m going to go home and sleep.”

I checked my watch. It was only 10:30 pm, but I would be getting her all night in a few days anyway.

“All right,” I said, “Give me your cell number just in case, though.”

Kristin nodded and gave me her number. Leaning in, she pressed a light kiss to my cheek, and then strode off. I watched her sparkling form go, enjoying the lingering looks she inspired as she passed the other bar patrons. Yes, in only a few days, I would have that in my bed. And yet, there was something about her, something different and a bit unsettling.

I took a last swig of my wine, and then stared at the door she had exited from. Yes, I wasn’t sure how I felt about Kristin Blair now, and I didn’t much like it at all.