The Butterfly Effect: a Peter Parker Fan Fic

Part 21; Strawberry Kisses

At the first kiss, I felt something melt inside me that hurt in an exquisite way. All my longings, all my dreams and sweet anguish, all the secrets that slept deep within me came awake, everything was transformed and enchanted, everything made sense ~ Hermann Hesse

We arrive and I'm rooming with MJ. She hasn't said a word to me yet. The room we share is small and dimly lit. A faded floral wallpaper covers the wall behind the two double beds in the room separated by a oak wood bedside table that looks like it's about to crumble and break into pieces. The beds are covered by a plain white doona and white pillows. Mr Harrington really did just look for the cheapest place. The only thing that doesn't make it look cheap is the pool that our room overlooks.

"You guys can't go in the pool!" he ordered us once we got off of the bus. But in all honesty, no one really listens to him and I can guarantee that we will end up going in the pool one of these days for sure.

I throw my bags in the corner of the room and mark the bed that's further away from the door. My entire body falls onto the bed and even if the motel is cheap, the mattresses are very comfortable.

Note to self: inquire about the brand of mattress.

"Comfy?" MJ asks, sitting down on the bed next to me.

I look at her, not bothering to disguise the apparent shock on my face. "Yeah, very..." my voice trails off.

She shoves her shoes off and crosses her legs on her bed, "I'm um... I'm sorry for my harsh attitude towards you on the bus. It's nothing personal, it's just something that's been on my mind a lot recently. Nothing to really be hung up on, you--"

"--MJ. I know," I interrupt and speak slowly, so as to not alarm her.

But it doesn't work. Her stunning brown eyes practically double in size and she maintains a stare, "what do you know?"

My hand finds itself entangling through my hair as the sudden urge to fiddle with something, anything, comes across me. "About how you... Peter... you and Peter... you know... um..." I mutter, hoping she doesn't hear.

But she does. "How do you know?!" she snaps, clearly panicked.

"I didn't tell you because I thought that maybe you want to keep it quiet, but that night at the party? When you were drunk? You said you... were in love with Peter. I'm sorry," every word that comes out of my mouth makes me feel heavier and heavier for some reason.

She doesn't respond and instead topples backwards, dying of laughter. My brows furrow, but I let out a little giggle in response, "MJ? What's so funny?"

She wraps an arm around her stomach, clearly having pains there from her cackling. Her mouth opens and sounds come out but talking through laughter is a difficult task and this is just proof. She takes deep breaths and tries to stop. After an eventful couple of minutes, she does... and she's crying.

Oh shit.

Not again! I can't console a crying MJ again! Especially one who's sober and will remember everything I'm about to say. I am not prepared to ruin my reputation with her forever! My mental pep talk and any movie I have ever scene are the only things that I can rely on. Do I call Dr. Phil or something?!

"Hey, what's wrong?" I ask, slowly but surely let my legs carry me next to her bed where I sit next to her and awkwardly wrap an arm around her shoulder.

She burrows her face in her hands and sniffles, trying to contain her sobs, "he'll... he'll never love me back."

My face falls. She doesn't know. She really doesn't know.