Oblivious to her feelings, to her pounding heart, Bart could move closer and not feel guilty about it. If he knew what she was feeling, he wouldn’t have sat himself so close to her. He wouldn’t have reached over to put his hand over hers when her voice went soft at the memory of Zod and whatever he had done to her.
It wasn’t that he would have been disgusted by it, but she was Lana; she was Clark’s… whatever she had been to him before. She was another version of Lex Luthor’s girlfriend, fiancé, something. Clark had once scribbled her name all over his notebook like a lovesick sixth grader. He had laughed at him.
She was that Lana.
He moved his body nearer to her, kept his hand right where it was. “He won’t do anything to you this time. Nobody will let him.” Not Clark or Kara and certainly not him.