Thanks for your patience as it takes me a while to update sometimes. School is winding up in a few more weeks for me, so things are kind of crazy as I'm trying to finish writing papers, studying for tests, etc.
I tap away on the keyboard, ignoring the pressure of a headache forming in my temples. I really need to try and finish this paper for English tonight. Ping. My heart leaps in my chest, but I relax as I see the noise at my window is only Peter. "Come in," I mouth, turning back to finish typing up the paragraph I'm on.
"You should maybe consider coming in through the lobby," I suggest dryly, saving my document and exiting out of Word. "Also…" I stifle a laugh, "my father is under the impression that you require psychiatric attention."
"Oh really?" he croaks out, chuckling.
There's something wrong with his voice, despite the fact that he's trying to act normal. I spin around and realize how pale his face is and that there's blood on his suit. "Peter," I breathe, rushing over to him. "What happened?"
He leans against the wall for support. "You should see the other guy." Stumbling forward, he collapses on my chair near the wall. "The other guy, in this instance, being a giant mutant lizard."
I gasp. I knew this Spider-Man thing would be too dangerous for him. But of course he has to go and be a hero.
"Hey, Gwen. Honey, do you want cocoa? Howard's making some cocoa."
I freeze. Oh please, not right now. Not my dad. Of all the people who could find Peter in my room, my dad is the worst. "Shh," I order, pointing a finger at Peter while I make a mad scramble to the other end of my room. I fling my door open. "No, Dad, I do not want cocoa," I say irritably. "Honestly! I'm seventeen years old."
Dad crosses his arms as he stands in the hallway, the corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. "Okay, I just thought I remembered someone saying last week that her fantasy was to live in a chocolate house."
I feel a flush rising on my cheeks, knowing that Peter can hear us perfectly well right now. "Well that's impractical," I spit out, slamming my door shut, then I open it back up an inch to add, "And fattening."
I shut the door once more and sag against it, feeling frustration roll through me in waves. Already my headache is ten times worse.
Peter grins shakily from his hiding place behind my chair. "Chocolate house?" he says quietly yet impishly.
I roll my eyes. I feel kind of bad as I remember my harsh reply to my dad. I didn't mean it, of course, but he doesn't know that. Guiltily, I open my door. "Sorry, Dad."
"It's good," he assures me.
"I just can't have cocoa right now because I'm work…I'm doing this…" I wave my hand in circles as if it will somehow produce the perfect excuse. Ah! "I have cramps."
"Oh."
I shake my head. "I feel kind of pukey and just sort of, like, emotional. I keep crying," I say in what I hope is a sheepish tone.
He gives me a thumbs-up. "It's okay. Good."
Thank goodness. This excuse works every time, especially on guys. Funny how they get so squeamish about the details. "It's brutal. You don't want to know. It's like, bad," I say, just in case.
"Got it." Dad starts to back away, obviously hoping to escape any more information.
"Thanks, Daddy," I say with a cheerful grin, pulling back into my room. Well, that was easier than I'd expected.
Then I remember: Peter's hurt. He needs help. Running to his side, I help him back onto my couch. "What did you do to yourself?"
He winces as he moves to a more comfortable position. "I was in a fight. Like I said. I'll be fine."
"Oh no, you don't. I'm not letting you just get away with that. Tell me what happened." I dash over to my dresser, grab a hair clip, and pin my hair up so it's out of my face. I get a damp washcloth and bandages while Peter tells me about the fight.
I sigh when he's done. I hate this, hate being so helpless when he's in danger. Seated across from him on the couch, I finish dabbing away the blood while he clenches his jaw and pretends he's not in pain. I'd love nothing more than to freak out on him and scold him for getting hurt, but I know that's not what Peter needs right now. He needs love and gentleness.
So, to lighten the mood, I tease, "Easy, Bug Boy."
Peter chuckles. "What'd you call me?" he mutters, but when he meets my gaze, his eyes are serious and full of longing. I lean in closer, meeting him halfway for a kiss.
"I'm going to be all right," he says when he pulls away, sensing my worry like he always does.
"No. No."
"Yes, yes," he counters quietly.
I look away. Peter may have special powers, but he's not invincible. "I know what this is."
"What is it?"
I force myself to look him in the eye. "Every day, for as long as I can remember, my father has left every morning, and he's put a badge on his chest and strapped a gun to his hip." My voice remains low. If I speak any louder, I know it'll crack. "And every day, for as long as I can remember, I haven't known if he was gonna make it home." I feel tears filling up in my eyes, but I blink rapidly, unwilling to let them fall.
Peter touches my cheek gently, and I feel bad. I should be comforting him, not the other way around. But it feels good to talk honestly with him––he understands me.
"I got you," he says. "Okay? Okay? I gotta stop him, though. I have to….because I created him."
I suck in my breath. Seems like we're both spilling secrets tonight. "What do you mean?"
"I gave him an equation that made all this possible. Something my father had been working on, you know. Secretly." He shakes his head in remorse. "Now I realize why he kept it a secret. Point is, this is my responsibility. I have to fix it."
His hand is still cupping my cheek. I shift slightly to press a soft kiss against his palm. "Peter…" I don't know what to say.
Once again, Peter seems to guess my thoughts. "Hey. Let's get out of here." He shakes his head like crazy, and I laugh as his hair, still damp from the fight, scatters water droplets everywhere. "Let's just get out of here. Just for a minute. Can we?"
I'm tempted, but it's a bad idea. "No."
"Yes," he begs.
"No."
"Yes."
"If my parents see me leaving, I'm dead," I point out.
A slow grin spreads across his face. "Your parents aren't going to see you leaving."
Less than five minutes later, I'm clinging to Peter and shrieking with excitement as we spin and drop and fly through the air. I've never been crazy about heights, but now I'm beginning to see the appeal of this whole flying thing.
I feel like the princess in a fairytale, flying into the sunset with her prince. Silly, I know. And I realize that sooner or later––scratch that, probably just sooner––we're going to have to defeat a "dragon," in our case, a giant mutant lizard. But for now, I'm happy to have a brief moment of happiness and escape––I have a feeling we won't have much longer till the fight begins.
*squeal* There are some very exciting action scenes coming up. Can't wait to get to those. As always, thanks for the reviews/follows/favorites, they are so very encouraging to me!
