Felicia Hardy was more than obsessed with Peter Parker. More than in love with him. She would have done anything for him, bent over backwards, changed her whole life around, just for him. She had changed. He knew it, but he'd just ... forgotten about her. Wouldn't look at her. He had a willing slave and preferred to pretend she didn't exist. Out of sight, out of mind. Oh, sure, he'd flirt when she was around, they had fun, but he stayed out of her hands, pulled away when she touched him. Like the good man he was.
All for Mary Jane fucking Watson. It wasn't that she hated MJ (mostly), but she was, well ... catty about it.
So when she had heard about Peter's divorce, Felicia had waited. For about a week. Long enough to track down where he was living, now that he'd left the house with Mary Jane. And when he got home one night, Felicia just so happened to be swinging by herself. Just so happened to stop. Just so happened to brush up against him--and instead of pulling away, Peter paused, let her get close, let her rest her arms around his waist. Let her brush her lips over his jaw.
"Hey, Cat."
Felicia grinned.
"Hey, Spider."