Peter Parker & Tom Holland Imagines

miss americana & the heartbreak prince pt.1 {p.p}

A/N: So this one is inspired by the Taylor Swift song with the same title. I've had this idea for a long time now, and I'm excited—and nervous—to write it. A lot like "beyond the lights" this one is really personal. Most of the stuff you see—minus having a Peter Parker in my life—is based off of/inspired by my own experiences. So yeah, if you relate, know you can talk to me, cause I've been there too.

"Promise me you'll have fun?" Mom asks as we pull up into the magnet school's parking lot. I avoid meeting her gaze as I stare out the window where students from both school are talking and laughing as they head to the game.

After all, this wasn't my idea—or even my choice, but once mom and dad realized I was pulling away from everyone, they pretty much forced to come to the game and "show my school spirit," which is pretty nonexistent as this point.

She lets out a heavy sigh as he hands slide from the wheel. "I know you're having a hard time right now, but you should be enjoying high school while it lasts. Trust me, one day you're gonna look back and miss it."

I highly doubt that. I'd give anything just to be out of that nightmare. She doesn't know that though, and I'm not exactly anxious to talk about it. So, I plaster on the closest thing I can to a smile and nod. "Okay. I'll try to have fun." My answer placates her enough to break a smile. "I'll text you when it's over."

"Alright, honey. Here's the money for the ticket and some snacks." She presses a few bills in my hand with a soft smile, and I know it means a lot to her for me to just try. "Have fun, and I'll pick you up in a couple hours."

I offer her one last fake cheer-filled wave before trudging toward the ticket booth. A part of me is tempted to just head to some empty part of the school and scroll on my phone for the few hours, but I hate lying to my mom more than I already am. So, I begrudgingly pull out my student ID. "One ticket please."

The girl in the booth looks down at my card before raising an eye brow at me. "You got to EAST, huh? I've heard it's nice there."

"Yeah, well I don't believe everything I hear." I reply and nervously look around for any familiar faces.

"True. Everyone has a bias." The girl replies simply. "Here's your change, and Edison's seating is on the opposite side when you walk in. Enjoy the game!"

I don't bother to reply as I shove the change in my jacket pocket and keep my head down. The last possible thing I want is to run into someone from school. They've spent the entire time of knowing me trying to make my existence as miserable as possible, and I don't think I have the strength to deal with any more of it today.

Once I make it to a section of empty bleacher right next to the band, I finally breathe a sigh of relief. Mom would probably scold me if she were here and tell me something about "trying to be a little bit social," which makes me grateful—and a bit guilty for being so—that she isn't here. For once, I appreciate the volume of the band since it keeps most people away.

My feet tap along to the beat of the pop songs being played by the band, and I make snarky comments every opportunity I get. "And Wilson drops the ball faster than a girl asking him for commitment, which leaves Midtown's number 32 to pick it up and offer it ice cream and a dance in the end zone. Now, EAST is stepping aside to let this new relationship blossom, even if it costs them the first score of the game."

The first quarter fizzles away, and my anxiety spikes as people start heading to the snack bar. I try to distract myself by improving a song by putting words in between cheerleaders chants. "I didn't want to go, but I didn't wanna fight, cause nobody's gonna win. Now can I go home?"

I'll admit it's not the best, but it works to keep my mind occupied as the next chunk of the game starts. Of course, my luck doesn't seem to last for long.