I Can't Make You Love Me || Peter Parker x OC

Chapter 13: Even Love Stories Have an Anti-Hero

Peter's perspective

So many things were going on inside of me. It felt like there was this never-ending cue of questions that were waiting at a help desk that had no answers. Like a DMV straight from hell, if you can forgive my oxymoron.

Luckily, I got to kill two birds with one stone. Taking the shower that I had been craving since last night also gave me a lot of time to privately mill over the huge truth-bomb that had been dropped between us. And as an added bonus, hot water always made me feel better.

Initially, I wanted to be mad at her for keeping something so big away from me, but then I though about that and found two road blocks: I had no right to judge what personal information she did or did not want to disclose with me, and that I shouldn't make assumptions about her based on her parents, especially considering that I had grown fond of her even out of context. If I just kept an open mind about this, then we can continue to build up even more trust between us, and all would be well.

Asking for her clothes admittedly felt a bit awkward, but I had already worn those clothes for an entire school day, I had gotten really sweaty while on patrol, and then spent the night and an additional day in that same outfit. I was in dire need of freshening up, and any weirdness that I felt about the whole thing was quickly overshadowed by the relief I felt once I stepped out of the shower clean and into the surprisingly comfortable clothes.

The smell that I had gotten from her earlier, that sort of flowery scent, was now invading every bit of me, and the smell was so strong that I was finding it a bit painful to breathe in. But she gave me food, a nice place to stay, a shower, and clothes, so I shouldn't be complaining.

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Anneliesa's perspective

5 minutes.

I was left to my own devices for 5 minutes, still trying to come to terms with what I had just done. There was obviously nothing I could do to fix it, but there was definitely a few things that I could do to make sure Peter didn't think I was to blame here. If he found his phone, as soon as he turned it on, he would get tipped of as to the fact that something had happened in between him having it, me being alone with it, and it being totally wiped of all data. Not many places your judgment can lapse to from there.

But, if he found it not working at all, no buttons or even the screen working, and I played my roll of ignorance very convincingly, maybe I could get away with it. So long as I figure out how to get the battery out of his phone, and get rid of it in the time I have left, I'm golden.

After pushing and prodding around at the bare phone for a minute, I gave in and looked it up on my phone. With 2 minutes left until Peter would be back out here, I got it out, and lead it to the same fate that his SIM card had suffered, dropping it out of my window and shattering it into bits. Next, I took his phone and hid it deep between two of the couch cushions, a place hopefully conspicuous enough for him to believe that it just fell there, but not so elaborately hidden that it would make him question it. Now with my tracks finally and fully covered, I was able to relax back into the couch and wait out the remaining time that it took Peter to get out of the shower and get dressed.

Just like clockwork, the bathroom door that was connected to my bedroom opened, and Peter emerged, wearing the clothes that I had provided for him. Seeing him in those clothes, my clothes, made me feel things that I had seldom experienced before. Those were my clothes. I had worn them, they had touched my body, and now they were touching his. And if visuals alone weren't enough for me, when he crossed the room and jumped onto the couch jovially, I could smell lilac on him. Peter had used my body wash, and the idea of him using and wearing the same exact things that I did made me shiver with excitement and something that I couldn't quite place.