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

Chapter 30: Stolen Chances & Stolen Glances

Anneliesa's perspective

It's been almost 3 months since I last saw Peter Parker in person. Three agonizing months since I've seen his gorgeous face, or heard that hypnotically deep voice, or felt every defined muscle on his body as he lays down next to me, and three months that the hostage video has been hidden in my computer files, awaiting the fateful day that it will find its way to Peter.

It's been exactly 3 months since Peter broke up with me in the exact booth I'm sitting in now.

Now that every person in my life has left me, I've been going to the diner a lot more than usual. Margot is the closest thing I have to a friend right now, so I find myself sitting up at the bar with a sandwich or a mug at least once a day. Rather than secluding myself to the back of the room like usual, I sometimes, on days like today, sit at our booth and look out the window, hoping beyond all sense of reason that Peter will happen to walk by.

It was Wednesday afternoon, just after 3:30. Peter would be getting home from school soon, and my eyes were fixed on the little blue dot as it slowly moved across my phone screen. Soon after I made the video for him, I decided to test the waters of hacking his phone a bit. It was nothing serious, I didn't want to get his attention just yet after all. I set up a tracking software and installed it into his GPS chip without him realizing. From there, I always knew where he was at all times, even if I wasn't allowed to see him in person.

If he went out on patrol, or to a friends house, or to school, or literally anywhere, I knew about it and was keeping an eye on him at all times. I love Peter Parker, and people that love each other keep each other safe. The whole reason we split up to begin with was because Peter cared about me and my safety. This is just my way of repaying the favor. He takes care of me by keeping me away and out of danger; and I keep tabs on him to make sure he's safe. It's a fair trade, right?

I had woven such a tight web of half-truths around myself in an attempt to make me believe that what I said was true. It was warm in this nest of beliefs, and comforting in a way. The relationship that Peter and I had can be whatever I want it to be, because I have no one here to tell me otherwise.

A light buzzing from my phone made me look at it, and the gridded map on my screen, closely. Peter's blue icon had stopped moving, and was barely a grid block away from my own green circle. Shooting my head up to look out the window, I didn't even know where to start looking in the large crowd that never seemed to disperse from the sidewalk. Finally, after several sweeps of the street, my tired eyes settled on a stasised figure with a grey hoodie on. His body was still facing the direction he had previously been walking in , but his face, or the large portion of it that I could see under the hem of the over-large sweatshirt, was trained directly on me. There was no way to read the expression on his face, but I wouldn't have been able to focus on that if I tried.

No, what I was so hung up on, was the fact that I knewthat face. Or at least I think I did. The jawline sharp enough to cut diamond, dark curls whipping around in the wind when his hood failed to contain them, broad shoulders that sat centered on either side of his head, the body that I've fantasized about night after night hidden beneath jeans and a sweatshirt, and the partially-concealed hazelnut eyes that seemed to stare into open air with an unknown grace. Everything on that face reminds me of Peter, and if my tracker is telling me the truth, which it has never failed to do before, the adonis-like figure attached to that face is Peter.

My first instinct was to abandon my table and run out to him, caution thrown to the wind. If he was staying around this long, he obviously saw me too, and that must be a sign that this was meant to be. Without giving it a second thought, or taking the time to decide on anything else, I started to move out of the booth, keeping my eyes on the figure across the street. Almost immediately after I got to my feet, I noticed that he was already gone.