A girl remembers her firsts.
Her first pretty dress given to her by her parents to wear to church on Sunday morning. The loss of her parents only a few later, and how she wanted to wear that dress every day, just to keep them close.
Her first Barbie doll with long blonde hair and pretty pink clothes. Sharing it with her first best friend on the playground. Losing her friend to the rushing waters on the bridge.
Her first schoolyard crush to whom she gave a note on cheap tablet paper which read "Do you like me?" with a 'yes or no' underneath, waiting to be circled.
Her first real kiss from the first boy to steal her heart away. Their first date, remembered in painstaking accuracy. Their first break up, crying on her pillow all night long. Making up, only to lose him again when he joined the Marines... and again the day she knew he was dead.
Lana remembers all of those things, pouring through old memories while she packs her things away so that she can put them in storage while she's at college. She remembers them because they're what makes her who she is--the tiny pieces that comprise the jigsaw puzzle of Lana Lang. She doubts any one else sees the pieces--just the "big picture" they come together to form.
Mostly, though, she remembers last night. Sitting on a spare tire in the back of Pete Ross's new truck--a graduation present from his parents. Pete had wanted to "see what this baby can do" and she was just looking for one more thrill before she left for Gotham and college life.
She remembers the wind in her hair, whipping around her from both the two open windows and the sunroof. She had to scream when he asked if she was loving it, just to be heard as they drove fast down the old dirt road towards Crater Lake.
She remembers his impish grin when he pulled a cardboard six-pack of beer from behind the seat, and how it grew wider when she didn't say no. The bottle was smooth and cool to the touch, and the first taste was foreign to her tongue.
As was Pete's kiss when the beer was gone and they were both happily buzzed and laughing over "old times" they'd never really shared. Lana couldn't remember why that was, staring into his dark chocolate eyes for the very first time.
She remembers being nervous when he put his hands between her thighs. No one had touched her like that--not Whitney, for whom she'd been a pretty trophy, and certainly not Clark, who'd worshipped her forever--at least until the day he rode out of her life on a stolen motorcycle. No one but Pete, and she still feels the electric heat of that first touch and how it made her tingle.
She remembers how her fingers trembled when she unzipped his pants and reached inside the slit of his boxers. The skin there was a paradox of both soft and hard, and he shivered at her tentative caress.
She remembers the cool night air on her skin and the cold steel of the truck bed as he pushed into her and the sharp initial pain that followed. He asked if they should stop and she recalls saying "no, go on, I want this, too". And she did.
She remembers every thrust, and how it felt with him sliding in and out of her, deeper each time, and harder as they reached the end of the ride. Her body trembling around him until he finally pulled out.
She remembers a kiss and a discarded condom wrapper, and Pete stammering "may I see you again?" She kissed him back and told him she would like that. And she would.
She remembers that Pete was accepted to Gotham University, too.
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