I aimed for the small mouth of the dryer. Two mismatched pieces of socks are on the floor. Solid, but missed attempts nonetheless. I am eight for ten but I still had a few more pieces of wet laundry to go. You see I had to figure out a way to entertain myself when I had a list of things to do. This wasn't my idea of fun. Not even close. But I was in no position to complain. If I did, mom would simply add to the list. So I kept my lips shut and my hands in motion. The list of chores had to be done by the end of the day and it was already five. I still had homework to do and I STILL didn't have a date for the dance.

"As if I need another problem on my plate," I whispered under my breath. I pulled out a white tee and shot it perfectly into the dryer. "Yes!" Another perfect shot.

"Mariam?"

"Yes mom," I shouted. "I'm already loading the dryer," I offered. She was checking in on me. Making sure I was on task.

"Alright. Remember you still have your homework to finish. Don't think I won't be checking it by the end of the night," she said.

Biology was almost done. It was my social studies homework that I needed to really work on. Besides I hadn't stopped thinking of Peter since this morning. Thinking of Peter, something I'd been doing since he'd saved my life recently, was affecting everything. I stuck my hand in the washing machine and pulled out my jeans. I refocused on something other than Peter. Making my next shot count. I rolled my jeans it into a bumpy ball and, with a pause, released them into the air. Perfect shot.

"Yes!" I shouted loudly. I hadn't lost my touch. I stuck my hand into the washer again. Nothing. Walking over to the dryer I set the nobs to forty-five minutes and headed straight to my room.

There my phone was, right in the middle of the bed. Glowing. A missed call and two messages were rolling across my screen. It was Mia.

I read the text first.

"Just heard Peter isn't going to the dance with Liz. Isn't that the best news ever? You should definitely ask him. I think she liked him too. Don't know if she asked him though. Anyway, she's popular and all but she can't have everything. Otherwise life would just be too cruel. And I refuse to believe fate is that cruel. So… when are you going to ask him?"

It was a long message but it was all I needed to know. Peter didn't have a date to the dance. Smart, kind, perfect Peter Parker was without a date to fall dance. I dropped my phone back down and dived after it. I stretched myself out and crossed my hands behind my head. I stared at the white ceiling. This is my chance.

It was too terrifying to think about it. I could already feel my heart skip a beat and he wasn't even close. Not even. A train and twenty blocks separated us.

I couldn't stop thinking about Mia's message. We talked about Peter. A lot. But I couldn't stop. It was like a reflex I couldn't control no matter how much I tried. Ever since he saved my life that day it's impossible for me not to break into a sweat when I am around him. I can't really explain my feelings. I know I like him. That much I know. I wait for him to pass my locker before biology and I try not to watch him in gym class. I didn't know if I could ever tell him about what I was feeling. Partly because I thought it was a passing thing. I was hoping I would get up one morning and, like merciful wandering magic, I would be cured of him. Cured of the heartache I felt whenever I was around him. It actually physically hurt to be so close to him and not be more than what we were.

What were we? We were nothing more than classmates. We didn't share anything more than the seven hours in the four walls of high school. I couldn't escape him. I'd even signed up for the school newspaper hoping that it would be enough to take my mind off him. Didn't know if it would work. I could only hope.

BEEP. BEEP.

Another message. My hand flattened on the mattress till I touched the cold screen of my phone. I held it to my eyes and almost died from shock.

A message. It was from Peter.

Hi Mariam. Feeling better? -PP

A wash of sweat covered my skin and I shivered. My heart began to race. I looked at the message again. What made him say this? What did I say? I wracked my brain, trying to remember what I must of said and when to make him say what he was saying.

Then it hit me. After my run in with death, the day after to be exact, he'd found me by my locker and he'd stopped by. I'm sure he was checking to see if I was okay but I now remember mumbling something about my anxiety. He offered himself, if I needed someone to talk to and I'd said thanks but promptly proceeded to do everything I could to tell him it was nothing. I remember his quizzical look as I tried to explain how okay I was. But, embarrassingly, my body was doing everything to communicate the opposite. I flushed with renewed embarrassment at the recollection. He probably thought I was anxious about the accident. I wanted to assure him I was okay.

I touched my fingers to the cool screen and selected the message button. My touch keyboard popped up. I began to type away. After a few minutes, I stared at my replay.

Thanks for asking Peter. I'm fine. -M

Short, sweet and to the point. However short, my words were really a dance around the issue. A total denial and refusal to bring up the nightmares I still had about the moment my life flashed before my eyes. I would have died if it weren't for him.

Thinking about Peter and what he almost sacrificed to help me was something I couldn't forget. I liked him before and when he saved my life I was certain about why I'd liked him all along. He is what I thought of him all along. And I was almost certain that he was also so much more. There was something extraordinary about him. I am as certain of that as the sunrise and sunset. I'm also desperate to find out the layers hidden within him. I didn't want to run and hide from him anymore. I was going to take a leap of faith. I was going to ask Peter to the dance.