Kara’s never been great at first impressions.
It’s a fact. A stone-cold fact that she’d had thrown in her face more times than she could count. Not maliciously: it was more like, in the moment where people realised her awkwardness and still somewhat persisting lack of awareness of what normal human interaction was supposed to be like, they’d offhandedly mention their original opinion of her. The original opinion being not so great.
Alex had called her a try-hard in a way Kara knew was meant to sting when they were still ironing out issues and not yet realising they were going to be the most important people in each other’s lives. Timidly, when pushed, James called her hyper, when she was just trying to be invested in the things he loved. Kelly went with eager, which seemed like a word that wasn’t that bad, until it was said in a tone that erred a little too close to her first post-adoption therapist.
Even Cat Grant had called her an overexcited puppy in horrendous pastels the first day of her summer internship junior year.
Today though. Today, when she hasn’t yet had a chance to right the wrongs of her first impression, with a second charming impression and a friendship full of making up for her inability to prove her normality on the first try. Today’s first impression is- “Son of a bitch!
Which, given the circumstances, feels valid.
The circumstances being: one, Kara gesticulating wildly to Winn to explain why his theory regarding quantum entanglement is the dumbest thing she’s ever heard; two, Kara not taking into account the people going about their day around her; three, her hand smacking into something solid, and warm, and face-like (in that it is one hundred percent someone’s face).
“Golly, are you okay?” It’s not the smartest question in retrospect – primarily because, regardless of how the girl answers, the actual answer is definitely no. No, she probably isn’t okay with the fact that she’s having to clutch her nose to catch the blood currently pouring from it. No, she probably isn’t okay with the taste of iron on her tongue and droplets of red on a pristine white shirt.
It’s not the smartest question at all. But Kara doesn’t feel very smart at all when green eyes flick up to regard her beneath a brow furrowed with incredulity. “Do I look okay?”
Okay probably wasn’t the word Kara would use. Okay wasn’t bone structure crafted by the hands of a perfectionist artist with a god complex. Okay wasn’t midnight waves cascading down her shoulders and pulling at the tides in Kara’s chest. Okay wasn’t lips that demanded to be kissed and eyes that demanded to be observed. Okay wasn’t ears full of piercings and yellow stitched boots unlocking an entirely new ‘type’ section in Kara’s brain.
Okay certainly wasn’t a messy bun that made Kara think even messier thoughts.
(Okay probably wasn’t a face coated in blood either).
“I’m really sorry. I didn’t- Let me take you to first aid?” Kara offers - half out of good will and half crafted by her need to be around her just a moment longer. Just a few measly minutes to make things right, for her to convince this girl that she was worth knowing despite her flailing arms.
“No, it’s- I’m-“ the girl blinks slowly, taking a deep breath- “I just finished for the day anyway.”
“I can walk you home?”
“I think I’ll be safer away from those arms honestly,” she rebuffs and it’s Kara’s brain that’s flailing now: trying desperately to think of some way to fix this, to turn this awful thing into some kind of magical story they can tell their kids (after a couple dates of course).
“At least let me pay to clean the blood off?” Kara’s halfway through pulling her backpack to her front to grab her purse when the girl stops her with her hand, stopping just short of Kara’s arm with her blood-stained fingers. Kara cringes at the sight.
“Let’s just end this here, shall we?” She says, already backing away from the scene of the crime. “Be careful carrying those weapons around.” Kara barely catches sight of the adorable way her face scrunches as she spins around abruptly and starts to speed away.
She calls out desperately, “I really am sorry!”
Winn’s face is full of laughter when Kara turns to remember there was a third party involved in the situation. “She was pretty.”
Kara’s never been great at first impressions.
But this may have been her worst one yet.
Kara started stress baking when she was ten years old. It started with her mother tying an apron round her waist, putting a wooden spoon in her hand and telling her it would calm the voice in her head telling her, her science project was going to fail at the fair. It started with soft instructions and helpful hands and a calm Kara didn’t know she needed.
A calm that she found herself craving from that moment on.
And one that she could use to pinpoint stress milestones in her life. She perfected chocolate chip cookies as her adoption by the Danvers’ went through. She discovered a love of sticky toffee pudding as she fought Kenny Lee for the valedictorian spot. She realised she was a deft hand at brownies the week before she lost her virginity.
This time it’s scones. Scones and an exam she doesn’t feel anywhere near ready to take but will be sitting six hours from now regardless of preparedness. Scones and a wandering mind. Scones and… the overwhelming smell of something burning?
Kara’s scrambling for a chopping board to vigorously wave at the temperamental devil on her ceiling when the fire alarm goes off. Except it’s not the fire alarm for her apartment. It’s not even just the one alarm. She feels her whole-body cringe when she realises it’s echoing down the hallways to the discordant beat of her neighbour’s footsteps as they march to vacate the building at two in the morning (footsteps and general grumbling at the situation). Everything in the building was built like an overreaction - Kara likes to think it’s a telepathic connection to the overeager building super who once made them evacuate over ‘a bee infestation’ in the laundry room (it was three).
She sighs as she slips on some trainers and a jumper, remembering to flick off her oven and crack a window before she steps out into the hallway of shame and hopes no one realises she’s the one who forced them out of their cosy beds to wait for firefighters to come and waste their time trawling the floors for a fire that’s not burning (unless, fingers crossed, someone else was being reckless with smoke and there actually was a fire that could take the heat from her).
Kara figures that’s pretty much a pipe dream when she finds curious eyes scanning the crowd everywhere she looks the second she steps outside. Whispers fly around as they try to figure out who forced them outside so early. Kara forces herself to smile.
It feels less forceful when she catches sight of a familiar face - make-up free and framed with free-flowing hair that flirts with the wind. Her body is covered with short pyjamas and a jumper that covers her hands but doesn’t do much to hide the frustrated look on her face or the huge exhalation of air at the announcement that it’ll be a little longer before they can even think of going back inside.
There’s no better time than the present to make a good second impression. “That was a big sigh.”
A look of recognition crosses her face as she half turns to the sound of Kara’s voice. “I’m tired and I have an exam in the morning.”
“Hi, tired. I’m Kara.”
“That was a terrible joke, even for this time of night.” Despite her words, nosebleed girl offers Kara more of her attention. Attention she wants to keep for as long as humanly possible.
“I was hoping it would at least get you to tell me your name.”
She eyes Kara for a second before asking, “So you know who to make your apology letter out to?” And Kara immediately panics under her gaze.
“I swear I didn’t mean to set off the alarm. I definitely didn’t pull it or-” The girl halts. Kara’s mouth thankfully stops running rampant the second after, though it’s already a little too late to save her from the murderous look she’s receiving. The one that really wasn’t murderous before. The one that has it all dawning on Kara. “You were talking about me hitting you.”
“You’re the reason we’re standing out here?”
“Technically a batch of scones is the reason, but yes, they may have been in my oven.”
A beam of light cracks through the storm brewing on her brow. It does far more to ease the panic in Kara’s chest than any scones ever could. “Stop being cute when I’m mad at you.”
“You think I’m cute?”
“Nothing I say right now counts.”
Kara grins, pushes her luck further. “Tell me your name?”
“Lena,” she says simply. The rhythm in Kara’s chest doesn’t feel simple at all.
“Can I make it up to you this time?” She asks. Hopefully. It could never be described as anything other than hopefully. Except maybe desperate. Desperate to spend even one more moment with her. Desperate to pause this moment in time as people start to file back into the building to keep her outside, actually talking to Kara with all her blood securely in her veins and a small smile on her face. Even if the smile is inherently teasing.
“If you could turn back the clocks and not burn your scones whilst I’m midway through my final ‘night before the exam’ flashcard read, that would be great.” Maybe Kara would finally have to admit defeat on the second impression front too. Or…
“I could help you with them? I always find it better when someone reads the questions to me.”
“I think alone would be better. I don’t need the distraction.”
“I swear I won’t set off another alarm.”
“That’s not-“ Lena shakes her head, her eyes finally slipping off Kara and onto the last stray people wandering past them. “I should go back inside. I’ll see you around, Kara.”
“Oh, yeah, right. Bye, Lena.” Boy was she going to be saying her name as much as she possibly could from this moment on. “Good luck tomorrow!”
Kara thinks about Lena’s parting rueful smile pretty much every second after she’s sent it. She thinks about it during her exam, and when she retries to perfect her scones, and especially as she bribes the building manager into telling her which apartment is Lena’s so she can drop them on her doorstep with an apology note and quick footsteps away from the wood.
Third impression was the charm.
Third impression was where Kara could really excel.
The Chinese restaurant across the road from the Physics building was the universe’s single best creation in Kara’s eyes. It was just close enough that it didn’t feel like a chore to walk there after a two-hour lecture that felt like seven, but also just far enough away that she felt like she was somewhere else - somewhere far better where an adorable owner had kept the doors open for fifty years with nothing more than an amazing work ethic and the best potstickers Kara had ever eaten.
Kara takes one step into the restaurant – into the warm smell of noodles and unadulterated joy – before she thinks, yeah, definitely the universe’s single best creation because, at the counter, looking like she’d rather be anywhere else than where she’s sitting, is Lena.
Lena and a girl to her right who looks like she hasn’t stopped talking to take a breath in quite some time. Lena and a girl who was putting her hands all over her, but that Lena looked like she couldn’t wait to be away from.
Lena and a girl who was Kara’s third chance at finally making a good impression.
She lets that thought put a pep in her step as she walks over. She lets it lift her smile a little higher and press her shoulders back into a confident stance, even as she somewhat unconfidently approaches the pair and says, “hey, babe, who’s your friend?”
“Babe?” Two voices ask at the same time. The tones aren’t the same though. In fact, Kara doesn’t think she’s ever heard two voices sound so different in one moment: one is genuine confusion and something Kara can’t quite place but knows she doesn’t hate, the second sits surely between abstract anger and the tangible act of throwing a drink at someone.
Or, maybe not so surely in the middle at all because it’s when the girl says babe again in the same questioning tone, and Lena’s still staring at Kara who definitely hasn’t stopped staring at her the entire time, that Lena’s face is suddenly dripping with, what thankfully looks like, water.
“I knew you were too good to be true,” she says, grabbing her coat and turning away from them with one last flip of her finger.
Then it’s Kara’s turn to be confused. “That wasn’t a stranger was it?”
Thankfully, Lena smiles as she quietly picks up a napkin and dabs at her face. Her makeup is still insanely flawless. Somehow the droplets did nothing more than make her eyes look an even more vibrant green. It was sort of insanely unfair that she was the kind of pretty that couldn’t be tamed, and Kara was currently the sort of tired that couldn’t figure out the correct way to deal with that.
“She was my date,” Lena says simply. Like it was nothing. Like Kara hadn’t just done something terribly awkward that made her look like a jerk in the process.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. You just- you looked so uncomfortable, and she looked like she was trying to get you to wear her like a scarf and I just- I’m sorry.” Kara had been on her fair share of bad dates. She still remembers the smell of beer and cheap cologne that had flowed from Frat Boy Mike’s skin during her first few months at college. That was the last time she said yes to a date just to save someone’s feelings (or just because her friends convinced her it could be fun - sometimes you just knew something was going to suck and that was okay).
Lena waves her off. “No, you’re right. It was kind of a terrible date, though I am now going to have to explain to my roommate why I didn’t tell her about my secret girlfriend and let her talk me out onto am excruciatingly bad blind date.”
“You weren’t hoping for a second one then?” Kara asks, taking the opportunity to sit in the seat left behind by Lena’s date. She smiles sheepishly at the waiter as a fresh glass of water is set down in front of her with a wink.
“Let’s just say getting water thrown in my face was preferable to listening to her talk.”
“Lena!” Kara admonishes but it has no heat amongst her laughter.
“You’d say the same thing if you’d only just heard yourself speak for the first time in thirty minutes.”
“She really didn’t let you speak?” Kara couldn’t imagine that, couldn’t imagine thinking anything she had to say, in any version of her voice would be better than listening to Lena. Lena with her slight hint of an accent that slipped on certain syllables and a richness that dripped from her tongue that Kara would bathe in if someone could make that physically possible as soon as.
“She actually told me about myself for a little bit,” Lena admits, chuckling slightly. “I think my friend might have bigged me up a little too much prior to the date. Frankly, I was starting to have a bit of a crush on myself the way she was going on.”
“Well, I don’t think it would be very hard to have a crush on you.”
There’s a startled second in which Lena doesn’t speak before she twists it into something she’s happier to have be for public consumption. Her light-hearted smile can’t quite cover for her blush, however. “Ah but you’ve also never spent more than about ten minutes with me.”
“Not for lack of trying,” Kara scoffs indignantly.
“So, the truth about why you really had us all lining up outside, freezing our asses off, listening to that shrill fire alarm comes out.” It hadn’t been a premeditated plan. Not in that instance. But Kara had debated premeditating it a thousand times since if only to see Lena for five more minutes.
“Meeting you outside was nothing more than a happy coincidence.”
“I bet you say that to all the girls.”
“Only the ones who wear She-Ra pyjama shorts.”
Lena eyes her sharply. “We’re not going to talk about that.”
Her dismissal only makes Kara want to talk about them more. She’d certainly been thinking about them enough since that night. “I thought you really worked them.”
“Of course, I did, my ass is amazing, but we’re still not talking about that.”
Kara blushes. “Tell me something else about you then?”
Lena considers her, taking a slow sip of her drink, eyeing Kara over the rim of the glass “Anything?”
“Something you would’ve told your date in the first thirty minutes if she’d have let you speak.”
“I’m incredibly hungry,” Lena confesses immediately. Kara barks out a laugh. “I’m serious. I tried to order three times, but she didn’t take the hint.” Kara’s laugh quietens as Lena looks at her softly.
It makes her think of the last truly terrible date she went on where the girl told her she laughed too loudly. It doesn’t seem to faze Lena though – the volume or the unabashed way Kara let herself feel a joke. If anything, she looked quite charmed. Or Kara thought that’s what Lena might look like if she were charmed. Or maybe Kara just hoped that, somehow, some part of her had finally managed to make at least a semi-good impression.
“Let’s get some food in you then.” Kara smiles, signalling the waiter, before she pauses. “That is, if you don’t mind me sitting here with you?”
“Don’t be silly, babe. It’d be a little weird to make my girlfriend sit somewhere else.”
Kara rolls her eyes (though less so at Lena and more at the butterflies in her stomach at the phrase ‘my girlfriend’ coming from Lena’s lips). “Don’t make me regret saving you.”
Lena smiles, making a show of picking up her menu and acting the picture of politeness. “Wouldn’t dream of it, darling.” If pet names were a thing now, Kara didn’t hate it. They might end up being the death of her. But she didn’t hate it. She thinks she might even be able to not blush when Lena said them if given enough time to build up an immunity to them.
Though that might have been easier to do if she’d remembered to actually get Lena’s number when they parted ways at the restaurant entrance with the realisation that they were going separate ways and a pregnant pause in which Kara almost went for a hug but chickened out.
Next time, she promised.
Next time she would really smash it out of the park.
Kara would like to say she doesn’t know how she ended up with the worst lab slot for her project, but she does. She knows that she was abruptly guilted by like six different people into switching places for various reasons until she was stuck with the last one left. The one that left her constantly leaving the lab exhausted, half-blind like her glasses weren’t doing their job anymore, and practically praying she would be granted the gift of teleportation so she could just be home already.
Unfortunately, her prayers were never answered. And so, she finds herself stumbling onto a late bus like usual. Except, usually, she clambers on and falls into one of, at least, ten free seats, even having space to stretch her legs. Tonight is a little unusual. Tonight, the bus is crammed. Tonight, it takes her a second to even spot the empty space beside the sleeping nurse, but she sees it.
She just so happens to coincidentally see it the exact same second a girl walking fruitlessly from the backrow of the bus does. A familiar girl who seems to always make Kara do stupid things. Stupid things like running for the last empty seat just as she does.
It’s oddly coordinated – the way they crash into one another. It goes like this: Kara throws herself onto the seat like she’s back at a third-grade birthday party playing musical chairs and treating it like war and, Lena - whose bleary eyes say she’s taking every movement of the earth in a second later than it happens - throws herself right onto Kara’s lap.
She doesn’t even apologise for knocking the wind out of Kara (she probably doesn’t even notice). Instead, she crosses her arms over her chest and petulantly says, “I’m not moving.”
Kara stifles her laughter. “I’m not making you.”
Lena releases a breath, settling in further. “Good because you’re really warm and I just really need a moment.” Kara takes her words, and the weight of her body, as an acceptance. An acceptance that Kara can snake her placeless arms around her waist and pull her closer.
There’s a moment of tension, a beat too long, in which Kara starts to pull back, starts to apologise: thinking she’d pushed them too far, made her too uncomfortable, overstepped this weird boundary they’d been building between them. But Lena grabs her hands before they disappear, wrapping them more securely around her body.
Kara’s suddenly incredibly glad the nurse is fast asleep so no one can see the blush on her cheeks. The blush that multiplies tenfold when Lena drops her head back onto Kara’s shoulder, staring at the ceiling, even as her temple droops slightly towards Kara’s.
Kara stupidly inhales deeply, thinking she’d find some calm in the long breath and instead finds nothing more than gay panic when she realises that Lena’s neck smells like vanilla pods and coffee beans. Kara had never felt more like she would be happy to just up and die to savour a moment.
“Bad day?” She asks softly.
“You ever had one of those days where every single thing that happens you’re like, at least this can’t get worse, and then it gets worse?”
“Once or twice.”
“I just feel the world decided to pull a prank on me today and it got completely out of hand.”
Kara runs her thumb across the back of Lena’s hand. “And then someone fought you for a bus seat.”
“Not the worst part of my day.” Lena yawns, burrowing closer in a way that makes Kara’s heart squeeze uncomfortably in her chest. “Could you wake me up at our stop?”
“Thanks, Kara.” Lena sleepily nuzzles her nose against Kara’s neck. Kara sighs shakily, realising that she maybe does have more of an audience than she first thought in the form of a girl sitting in the seats beside them, wearing headphones and an excited grin as she mouths ‘you guys are cute’. Kara fights her blush to mouth back a simple ‘thanks’ because ‘we’re not actually dating but I’m definitely going to fall in love with her’ probably wasn’t going to translate through late night lip reading, and frankly she didn’t want to burst this bubble she was currently living in.
The one where she was allowed to hold the prettiest girl she’d ever seen, and have her feel safe in Kara’s arms, and have things that were theirs like bus stops and favourite restaurants and apartments and houses with a porch and a flower garden and kids or whatever.
So, Kara sits in her dreams for a moment as Lena stews in hers and she doesn’t once debate waking her up to tell her she actually needed to get off at a way earlier stop to drop something to Alex because Alex could wait.
Alex could wait because Alex didn’t flutter her eyelids adorably at Kara when she gently woke her up (she tended to hit first and ask questions later when her sleep was interrupted). And Alex didn’t gently offer her hand to help Kara from her seat even though Kara did all the real work in standing. And Alex didn’t make her heart feel like it was going to flop out of her chest when she pressed a thank you kiss to her cheek as Kara walked her to her door (which, thank god really because that would be super weird).
But Lena did.
And Kara really needed, just once, for them to cross paths in a normal way so that, when she fumbled through asking Lena for her number, she knew she’d get a yes.
There was a certain feral feeling that overtook the student population at the word ‘free’. Kara genuinely couldn’t think of a single thing she wouldn’t take because she didn’t have to pay for it (see her energy drink addiction last semester just because the stall was near her seemingly constant nine am lecture and the girl handing them out really cared nothing for the one per person rule).
There’s a second kind of feral feeling that comes from being challenged by someone. Especially a man. Especially a man scoffing and saying, in not so many words, there’s absolutely no way you can do this thing as well I can do this thing because of my manly manliness.
And then there was the cross-section between those two things – the perfect combination of feralness that comes from Kara hearing the words ‘you couldn’t beat me in an eating competition’ when they’re standing right by the sign-up sheet. Free to enter. Freeing to make a grown man question every decision he made that lead him to the moment in which she laughed in his face.
“I’m going to make you cry,” Kara says. Alex laughs. The man looks startled: he should be.
He ultimately does look like he might cry when he turns to vomit in the bucket next to him and Kara is handed a piece of painted metal shaped like a hot dog that she plans to hold above her head and walk the halls of her apartment building like a god later that evening.
Or maybe a little now because she spots her in the crowd – looking half disgusted, half incredibly proud. Just a little over Alex’s head and just a little too stomach-churningly pretty for how much Kara’s stomach is already churning (turns out eating thirty hotdogs in ten minutes isn’t a great idea).
Alex rolls her eyes when she catches her gaze, gesturing to where she’s going to hide so Kara can be a useless gay (and yes, she gestures that second part with some weird hand motions too).
“Impressive,” Lena says sincerely when Kara stops in front of her.
“The feminism took over.” Kara shrugs.
A burst of laughter comes from Lena. “I completely understand. I made a boy cry in a lecture the other day by disproving every argument he made because he told me I look better with makeup on.”
“Let me know next time and I’ll be sure to get tickets.”
“I’ll hook you up with front row seats.”
“Great, then I can be close enough to see that you’re insanely pretty makeup or no.”
“That was cheesy,” Lena states but she’s smiling regardless. Oddly blinding for the subdued way she sends it out – like she’s trying to hold it back but it’s breaking through anyway. Kara could understand why she might do so: she felt dizzy enough seeing half of Lena’s smile.
“I’m not at my best right now,” she defends and, as though her stomach was waiting for that queue, it’s immediately followed by a swell that has Kara pausing for a second, just managing to twist her head away from Lena to vomit directly into a bush.
She vaguely thinks she hears a soft oh Kara and she definitely feels someone gathering her hair from her face, rubbing her back as she wipes her mouth. She half expects it to be Alex. She half expects Lena to have sprinted in the opposite direction, but she hasn’t. She just hands Kara her own water bottle like it was nothing and shifts her smile to something more sympathetic.
“You okay?” She asks gently when Kara straightens up.
“My ego is bruised but I’ll live.” She could get past this. Like maybe she’d prefer to just blink out of existence for a few moments, but she could get past it. If only because Lena was still standing there: watching her with those eyes and smiling at her with that smile.
“Anything I can do to help?”
Go big or go home. “Finally give me your number?”
Lena cocks a brow. “This is the moment you’re choosing to ask?”
“I was waiting for a time when I wasn’t in the middle of doing something dumb or embarrassing but the current odds are making it seem like that’ll never happen and I would really like to start seeing you on purpose. Maybe then I can prepare to be less of a disaster.”
“I happen to quite like your brand of disaster – even if it tastes a little like my own blood.”
“I’m still very sorry about that.” Kara tenderly brushes her thumb over Lena’s nose, a red hue follows obediently in its wake.
“Get your phone out then, champ,” she attempts to distract from the way she must sense Kara’s about to try and tease her. Kara lets her, grinning and pulling her phone from her back pocket. She couldn’t believe her luck. She genuinely couldn’t believe her luck.
Lena’s two numbers away from finishing when two uniform clad men step between them. “Lena Luthor, you are under arrest on suspicion of aiding and abetting fraud…”
She couldn’t believe her freaking luck.
Everything goes a little blurry after that. Lena looks shocked and there’s something about her brother and steel slapped unnecessarily round her wrists and all Kara can see is the defeat in her eyes and the half-finished number on her contacts already primed with a single red heart.
It’s maybe more than a little crazy that Kara doesn’t even debate her next move. It’s for sure more than a little crazy that her immediate next move is to apologise to Alex and then catch a bus across the city to the police station they’re holding Lena at. It’s the most more than a little crazy that she’s thinking of how she can pay the bail when she finds out a well-dressed woman has already done so and is telling Lena she’ll have it sorted by the end of the day.
But Kara thinks crazy is worth it for the way Lena’s eyes shine at the sight of her, despite her more than confused face and the slightly sharp phrasing of, “what the hell are you doing here?”
Kara waves her phone. “I didn’t catch the last two numbers.”
Lena snorts a quick, disbelieving laugh. “Did you miss the part where I was arrested, and my brother is apparently a manipulative psychopath who used my good nature against me to scam hard working people out of their money?”
“Are you secretly your brother in incredible drag right now?”
Lena blinks, taken aback. “No?”
“Okay, great. Then may I please have the rest of your number?” Before some other act of God kicked her in the throat and ruined this right when things were getting good.
“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Lena says instead of answering.
“Is that good?” Kara really hoped that was good.
She avoids the question again, instead simply saying, “69.”
Kara chokes, “What?”
Lena blushes, her words catching up with her as she rushes to add, “The last two digits of my phone number. Six, nine. Six and then a nine.”
Kara types them in, sends a quick text.
Kara (13:15): maybe later
Lena just barely catches her laughter when the message lights up her phone. “Walk me home?”
“Sure. Coincidentally you’re right on my way.”
“Lucky,” Lena jokes and despite everything – including the vague taste of regurgitated hotdog in her mouth – she does feel pretty lucky. Probably to do with the pretty girl holding her hand. Definitely to do with the pretty girl placing a spare toothbrush into Kara’s hand before kissing her until she can’t remember her own name.
Kara’s never been great at first impressions.
But turns out she was kind of alright sixth go round.