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To say Peter is nervous is an understatement.

He debates between swinging to her house or walking like a normal person, and he concludes that walking will help him think more about what he's gonna say, so he hides his webshooters underneath his dry fit long sleeve and starts the fifteen minute trek to her place. What normally isn't a long trip feels like forever, all because he's trapped in the voids of his panicking mind.

Peter made a note earlier that day to wear some cuffed jeans because she says she likes it so much, but patrolling takes a lot out of him, and throws on the first pair of sweatpants he sees on his floor in a rush to get out of his house. He's halfway out the door before he realizes he forgets his backpack, and he curses to himself as he runs back to get it and sprint out his apartment door. The kid desperately hopes she isn't disappointed.

His walk feels longer than intended. Kneading his fingers together out of nervous habit, he rehearses what he's gonna say in his head, but he reiterates himself so often that all of his thoughts are jumbled together in a pathetic, love struck mess, and he curses to himself because he's so smitten that he's forgetting how to even formulate words.

The thought of him and Ryder being conceptually friends has never crossed his mind. If someone told him that he and Ryder would be friends two months ago, he'd laugh so hard he'd crack a rib.

But none of that matters now, because he's currently on his way to her house. Frankly, it's for a project, but it's a huge step for a kid who never gets any sort of opportunity with any girls. Right now, he's currently over the moon.

As he gets closer and closer to her house, his breaths get shorter and more rigged and his palms start to sweat. He rubs them on the waist band of his sweatpants with nervous sighs, suddenly doubting his confidence he once has, the confidence that tells him to tell Ryder how he feels about her.

Peter then laughs to himself. Who does he think he is?

The GPS on his phone alerts him that he's arriving to her apartment, one in the rich neighborhood complex to which he stumbles a bit upon seeing her place. He suddenly feels very small, standing outside a luxurious apartment to which he's too poor to even be looking at. He feels unworthy as he swallows hard, taking reluctance steps towards the entrance of the marble floored lobby. Shooting the doorman a nod, he heads towards the elevator and presses in the correct floor.

His heart is beating so hard.

Soon enough, he's standing outside her apartment door and he forgets how to breathe, and frankly, freezes. He can't do this, he can't do this, he can't do this. Is he too underdressed?

Peter sucks in a breath and raises his fist to knock on the door three times, his heart fluttering when he hears her voice from the inside chirp, "One second!"

Fuck, the dry fit makes him look...well, fit, and he doesn't want it to seem like he's trying to show off, because then she's gonna take him as any other guy who's trying to impress her. Are the sweatpants too casual? Should he have gone for a more preppy look? Fuck, he should've worn the jeans with a baggy sweater, why does he always have to be in such a—

Before he can register it, the door is swinging open and he's met face to face with Ryder, her long locks up in a messy bun with pieces shaping her angelic face, clad in workout shorts and an over sized sweatshirt. His heart skips a beat, and words he plans on saying die in his throat, because he's seen all the looks of Ryder, the preppy one, the sporty one, the sophisticated one, even the flirtatious one, but he concludes that the lazy look she's got on right now is his absolute favorite, just because she looks so comfortable and at ease. Her smile is what brings him back to reality.

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