Arachnophobia ⇒ Peter Parker

twenty: listen, Parker

      Room 301. My eyes trailed over the bright orange classroom plaques, reading their numbers. After meandering the hallways, the silent hum of a drill grazed my ears, and I followed the sound over to a brightly lit classroom. Through the strip of glass that covered half of the door, I could see kids diligently working on their projects. They were hidden behind goggles, flying sparks, and mountains of machinery. My entrance remained unnoticed by the children who were hunched over their projects, carefully picking away at what they were working on.

     I weaved through the many stations, avoiding the sharp metal and ovens that surrounded me. My eyes peered over each child's glasses and helmets, surveying for one person, in particular. A large thudding noise rang out, flooding my ears with sheets of noise. I started towards the direction of the noise, and my attention was diverted. He was there, standing with his muscular arms and a navy buttoned flannel that was covered in blotches of black. He held a flamethrower and diligently poked at the machine in front of him. A serenade of hammers and electrical supplies surrounded me, and clearing my throat was a meek attempt to retrieve Peter's attention.

     I shakily raised my hand and tapped it against his warm fleece sweater. At this action, he finished the cut he was making and set his materials down. He ripped his helmet off his head, revealing waves of his tangled, auburn hair. Light scuff marks littered his face, and drips of sweat ran down his bright eyes to his sharp jawbone. One thought crept into my mind, is it just me, or is it getting hot in here? I blamed the fire that filled the room. Peter turned to face me. The moment our eyes locked, he whipped back around. Again, I pressed my hand against his shoulder, asserting more effort this time. His arms crossed over his chest, and I caught his eyes midway through a roll when he faced me once more.

     "Peter, I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for what I said the other day." The words left my tongue effortlessly, having practiced these lines countless times in my apartment the night before. I had no choice, not with the replaying image of my dead cousin appearing every time I closed my eyes. I knew that I wasn't the one that needed to apologize, but Peter didn't need to know that. A loud chuckle left his smirk, and he began to shake his head. My eyebrows raised in surprise; this was not one of the scenarios that I had run through in my head.

     "I'm not angry about the other day. If anything that was my fault." I suppressed my smile as a thought came to mind, we're on the same page now. He continued, " I'm angry about the fact that you were planning to turn all my friends against me."

     "Well, that's news to me," I said. The surprise was audible in my tone, and my lips pursed once my statement was finished. I was clearly never planning to turn all his friends against him. I wasn't sure where he was getting that from.

     He seemed annoyed, very annoyed. This came across in his next statement when he said, "Don't play dumb with me, Rose. You were trying to turn all my friends against me."

    I snorted loudly and didn't make an attempt at hiding my amusement. Wholesome, sarcastic laughter boomed from my bright smile. After taking a moment to calm down, I jeered at him, "And who planted that idea in your head?"

     "Michelle," he said, more timidly this time. He seemed shy, and he hunched over slightly beneath my dominating stance. His comment only boosted my laughter, causing heads to turn in our direction. I clutched my stomach and doubled over. Finally, my bitter laughter ended.

     "To be at such a prestigious school, you can really be an idiot sometimes." At this comment, he looked slightly hurt. He rested his palms behind his back, onto the work desk behind him, and pushed into them. I continued, "Don't you think MJ would have some incentive to tell you that? Maybe... a crush on you?"

     Peter took this as his turn to laugh. Struggling to make out works through his strings of laughter, he said, "Michelle? Have a crush on me, don't be ridiculous, Ro--"

     He stopped talking and his laughter quickly faded. His eyes got wide, and he stood up immediately.

     "Oh, God, Rose, I am so sorry."

     A warmth filled inside of me and a smug expression filled my chiseled face. I scoffed and placed my hands valiantly on my hips. It was time for him to apologize, and I didn't have to lie about feeling sorry through gritted teeth. I turned on my heels and stepped forward, ready to make a valiant departure. Peter stopped me, grabbing my arm softly. He opened his mouth, ready to speak, but he closed it shut. I raised an eyebrow at him curiously.

     Peter jerked his head in my direction and smiled shyly, "Rose, I know this may seem soon, considering we just made up, but Tony is holding an event for the reunion of the Avengers. I have two invitations, and Aunt May was going to come, but I really just wanted to invite you. Would you want to join me?"

     "I'll think about it." I turned around and began to walk away. However, I couldn't help but let Peter's excitement rub off on me. I spun back around and ran up to him. He was still staring there, paused in awe. Through a tone that was coated with a youthful joy, I said, "I'll see you there, Parker."

     With that, I left Peter standing alone in a workshop. He didn't hide the way his goofy grin dug into his high cheekbones or the way his head tilted curiously to the side. He hadn't figured me out, but he was willing to take time to do it. My mind, on the other hand, wandered and began to make expectations of what the event would be like. I imagined people dressed to the nines, speaking with crisp words and casually grabbing champagne from the tray of the waiter passing them. I imagined a toast, where the glint of the crystal glasses would cast an elegant shadow on the lavish ballroom that surrounded us. The click of heels and the shifting of priceless fabrics would fill the room. And lastly, I remembered my date. I imagined him dressed in a smooth black suit, hand clasped in mine.

     I shook my head, chastising myself. What silly thoughts were racing through my mind. For now, I needed to think about what was immediately ahead of me. I stuffed my hand into the pocket of my denim shorts as I reached for my phone. Once my fingers grasped it firmly, they pushed the phone in front of me and began to type away a bitterly sarcastic message.

     Me: Peter just apologized to me, and I've received an invitation to the reunion of the Avengers. Do me a favor and ask me for an update before killing my cousin next time.

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And the peace is rekindled! See you all tomorrow with more chapters to come. Please leave comments with questions, ideas, discourse, peticiones, or whichever poison you decide to pick. And, favorite if you enjoyed this chapter!