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TWO; 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆 𝒈𝒊𝒓𝒍 𝒂𝒍𝒆𝒓𝒕!
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"YOU WHAT?"
Disbelief was not all that Ned Leeds felt when he started to believe the heavy hangdog expression his best friend was wearing as he prodded his sandwich in silence. The loud mutters and screeches of metal legs dragging across the plastic floors seemed to drone out his wonder and unchecked hum.
Peter lifted his eyes from his feet to Ned's still spurned face. "I didn't know what else to do."
"So you committed identity fraud," Ned sang out, folding his hand around his chest. He was being the dictionary definition of interrogatory Captain America and he was kind of starting to love it.
"That's insane, I was only borrowing his name for a second," Peter hissed, trying to sound innocent when he was anything but. Because he was a thief, too. Holy webs, he was living outside the law!
Ned shook his head. "This poor girl believes—"
"Poor robber, you mean," Peter mumbled.
"—that you are Percy da Costa." Ned pressed his hands around his temples, ignoring his childish rebuke, and staring pointedly in the direction where the said Percy sat.
So, Peter had a minor hiccup. Presumably, Percy da Costa went to Midtown High. And to add even more meat onto his plate, Percy was flagrantly distinguished on the social ladder of the school. The olive-skinned majesty sat around his cliquey friends, all eyes on him, as he smoothed a hand through his shoulder-length, tie-dye hair, and made chains on his waist seem like a fashion statement.
"He could spit on my face and call me an 'asshole', still I'd thank him," Ned said, placing his chin on his hand as if admiring him.
Peter, shocked, shoved on his hand and Ned's chin hitting the beige table with a thud. With a glare, Ned rubbed the sore spot on his chin. How dare he side with the enemy, Peter thought.
"Fine." Ned raised his hands in surrender. "What are you going to do?"
"Jury's out about Clara Rose," he sighed. "But the suit on the other hand—"
"Clara Rose," Ned repeated, cutting in with a deadpan. "Of course, the thief's got a cute name. I bet she's got a cute face, too."
"Oh, really cute."
"Like Megan Fox cute or Halle Bailey cute?"
Peter sighed pushing a frustrated hand into his crown. If Pillsbury doughboy was a real person, not back, and not plump, it would be Clara Rose. She had that ping! level of cuteness rather than a drop-dead gorgeous goddess. She was someone who you would bring home to parents or have no difficulty in keeping happy.
