Typical Parker Luck - A Peter Parker Love Story

XXVI - Keeping Secrets

Monday hit me like a ton of bricks.

The hall TV was playing an announcement about the team and the elevator.

"This past weekend Midtown's Academic Decathlon defeated the country's best to win the national championship," a student on the TV said as I walked to my locker.

I smiled up at it tiredly.

"Later that day, they also defeated death," said the announcer.

Some of the Decathlon team's news interviews played in the reel.

"Thankfully, no one was seriously injured thanks to the Spider-Man."

I rolled my eyes.

"Morning, Eve," said a voice. Peter was opening up his locker.

"The Spider-Man Mania is sweeping the school," said the TV.

Peter turned to me with a smile plastered on his face.

"Dude, dude, dude, dude," Ned ran up to Peter. "What is it like being famous when nobody knows it's you?"

"Crazy, dude," Peter answered.

"Crazy," Ned repeated. "Should we tell everyone?"

"No," I butt in. "Trust me. Getting recognized is hell on earth."

"Should I tell anyone?" Ned asked.

"Not a good idea," Peter said, looking to me.

"Okay, well let's get going to class," Ned said.

"Oh, I'm not going to class," Peter answered.

I crossed my arms at him disdainfully. "Peter, you're already in so much trouble for ditching the Decathlon."

"I know, but I figured something out," he responded, bringing his voice down. "The wing-suit guy is stealing from damage control—"

"Damage control, like the stuff leftover from the Battle of New York?" I asked.

"Exactly!" Peter said. "That's how he builds the weapons, all we gotta do is catch him!"

"But we have a Spanish quiz," Ned protested.

"Ned, I'm probably never gonna come back here," Peter said.

"What?" I started.

"Mr. Stark is moving the Avengers upstate so—when I bring this guy in—"

"Dude, you wanna be a high school drop-out?" Ned protested.

"I am so far beyond high school right now," said Peter, turning to walk away.

His head was getting too big for his shoulders.

"Parker, my office, now," the principal stopped him.

I didn't feel bad. He needed to be brought back to earth.

After school, I walked back to my apartment. I was tired of not being able to fly. I was quite literally grounded.

As I walked past Peter's door, I was tempted to knock. I hadn't seen him after he went to detention. Still, I kept walking and unlocked my door, throwing down my bag on my small kitchen table.

I slumped onto my couch and clicked on the TV. The news was on.

I nearly choked. A ferry had been split in two. There was Peter in his Spider-Man suit holding it together by literal strings of webbing. Then, someone flew into the frame.

"And here you can see where Iron Man steps in," the news reporter said, "using some kind of propulsion tech to push the ferry back together."

Even though I was still mad at Peter, I couldn't help but let my mouth hang open at the feat of pulling an entire ship back together.

Around midnight, a knock came from my door.

"Peter?" I realized as I opened it.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly. It looked like he had been crying.

"I mean, yeah, sure," I said, opening the door.

Peter took a seat on my couch.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking a seat next to him.

"I lost the suit," he said, pulling his face into his hands.

"What? Well where did you put it last?" I said.

"No, Eve . . . Mr. Stark . . . he took it back," Peter explained. "After the ferry today—I was trying to stop the guys with the alien tech. There was this guy in a tricked out metal wing suit . . . A lot of people could've gotten hurt."

"But they didn't," I said, putting a hand on his back.

"Yeah, but, Mr. Stark was right. It wasn't my place. They were out of my league."

"No way," I said.

Peter looked up from his hands, his eyes red and puffy.

"Hank said Apocalypse was 'out of my league' but here I am," I said.

"You could've died, Eve," Peter argued. "You did die."

"Bad example," I mumbled. "What I mean to say is, you're a lot stronger than adults give you credit for. We both are."

Peter sniffed. "Yeah, yeah I guess you're right." He took a deep breath. "Eve, I'm sorry. For leaving during the Decathlon, for not telling you where I was sneaking off to—"

"It's okay," I said. "You know, a couple days ago the Decathlon was the most important thing to me but then I almost died again and you saved me . . ." My voice trailed off.

"No, well yeah, I just mean," Peter stammered. "It was not cool, especially because . . . I like you."

"I know," I said, trying to keep an excited smile from crossing my lips.

"You do?" Peter looked up, his brown eyes meeting mine.

"You're terrible at keeping secrets," I answered simply.

I cupped his cheek in my hand and leaned in so close to where our noses were touching. And for a moment, we just stayed there, waiting for the other to make a move.

Then, Peter's lips were on mine as he closed the gap. The kiss, though only a few seconds, was sweet; we both had been waiting for it.

As we pulled away, Peter let out a breath and smiled. "We still on for homecoming?"

"Of course," I laughed. "Oh, uh, Liz invited us over to her house for dinner before."

"When did she do that? How did she know?" Peter started.

"It's a secret," I replied, a smile playing across my lips. "Now we're even."