"What do you mean, he's incredible?" Harry asked later that night.

I held the phone away from my ear to dampen the volume of his voice. "I don't know, he just is." I didn't feel like having this conversation with Harry right now. "I'm exhausted, Harry, can we do this later?"

"No—all right, wait. Stay there, I'm gonna come over."

"Harry, no, it's fine—" I really didn't want to face the third degree right now. Dealing with Harry took patience, I was realizing, and I didn't have the energy right now.

"No, I'm gonna come—"

"Harry, I AM FINE." So needy. I felt like I was always giving in this relationship, and never got anything in return but expensive presents—which don't do much good for a girl's emotional well-being.

"All right, fine. Fine, will you call me in the morning, and, and, we'll go and have breakfast, and…I wanna buy you something." See what I mean?

"Buy me something? Why?" Harry throwing his money around? Maybe he's more like his father than I thought.

"Because, I want to. It'll make you feel better." Is money his answer to everything?

I sighed. "Fine. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay. And…what do you mean, incredible?"

"Harry!"

"All right, I'm sorry. Sleep tight. Don't let the bedbugs—" I hung up on him. Oh, Harry. So overprotective, and yet—he hadn't even tried to save me on that balcony.

These headlines make me sick, I thought.

Green Goblin and Spider-Man Terrorize City.

I shivered, remembering the green-armored man with the terrifying yellow eyes. How can they say that, after poor Spider-Man got his butt kicked? He saved every single person the Goblin's antics endangered, and he could have died any number of times. There's no way it could have been choreographed. He put his life in danger to save us—to save me.

WANTED: Citizens Call for Wall-Crawler's Arrest

What citizens, I wondered. Nobody I knew. He's just trying to protect the citizens of New York. Who in their right mind would want him off the street? He's what lets me sleep at night.

Or keeps me awake.

Acting lessons? I stormed out of the studio. Disappointed, even sad. Those were expected emotions when you go to an audition. If you don't get a part, you're disappointed. Rage is not a normal part of this picture.

At least I was able to prevent the tears.

"Hey!" I heard a familiar voice from behind me. "It's me again!"

Peter! "Hey!"

"How was your audition?"

I started. "How'd you know?"

He smiled adorably. "The hotline. Your mom told my aunt, told me."

"So, you just came by?" He would, too. Sweet thing like that is just like him.

"I was in the neighbourhood. Needed to see a friendly face." He looked mildly sheepish. "Took two buses and a cab to get in the neighbourhood, but…" We both chuckled. "So how'd it go?"

I looked down, disappointed. "They said I needed acting lessons." I smiled slightly. "A soap opera told me I needed acting lessons," I added in self-depracation. Both of us laughed.

"Well, let me buy you a cheeseburger. The sky's the limit, up to seven dollars and eighty-four cents."

I grinned. How very—Peter. "I'd like a cheeseburger." Then I remembered. "Oh, but I'm going out to dinner with Harry." Somehow thinking that a fancy dinner with Harry sounded far less exciting than a cheap burger with Peter, I said on impulse, "Come with us."

He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Oh, no thanks." He paused. "How's it going with…never mind. That's none of my business."

"It's not?" Why is it that I'm hoping he'll make it his business? "Why so interested?

"I'm not."

I didn't believe him. If you asked, you're interested. "You're not?"

"Well, why would I be?" He was trying so hard to be casual. And nobody else probably would have noticed the difference. But I did.

"I don't know. Why would you be?" Come on, whatever you're thinking, just say it! I was dying to know what was going on in that brilliant head of his.

"I, ah…That's a…I don't know." He was extremely uncomfortable now, and I knew it couldn't be just embarrassment for having brought it up.

I wasn't really sure what to say. "Sorry you won't come with us." I paused to look into his eyes one more time, reluctant for the encounter to be over. "I'd better run, tiger," I said, turning away and striding in the direction of the restaurant where I was supposed to meet Harry. Tiger? Where on earth did that come from? It's not even like he's the sporty type…and yet it fits, somehow.

Tiger.

xxxxx

I strode away as the rain started. Now, don't get me wrong, I love rain. But going to dinner with Harry sort of requires hair that looks nicely done, and makeup that isn't running down my face. So I tried to rush through the streets on my way to the restaurant, hoping to avoid too much water.

And then it happened. For the second time in as many weeks, my life was in danger.

As I entered a dark street (should have known better, yeah, but I was in a hurry), I passed a few guys in dark coats and scrubby facial hair.

"Hey, check it out, man!" I heard from behind me. Trying to ignore them, I continued, quickening my stride.

"Come on, man," came another voice. They're probably just going to—

A voice cut through my self-reassurances. "Hey, where you going, baby? Come on!" I looked back and saw the four men that had begun following me through the street. Oh, not now, I thought. I've dealt with muggers before, but usually lone ones, the homeless guys that don't even stand a chance.

I walked even faster through the wet street, then paused to look back. A frightening laugh met my ears, and I turned to run. The man kept laughing as he and his friends chased me through the darkened street, finally cornering me. Now, these were not your average muggers. They didn't just want my purse.

The guy to my left began to make fake smooching sounds, loud and disgusting. My heart raced. One of the guys on my right started barking like a dog, which confused me more than anything. Maybe he's crazy? Remembering the Goblin's maniacal laugh, I decided craziness was definitely something to cause worry.

I turned back around, looking for an escape route. One of the guys grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

And that's all it takes for Mary-Jane Watson to lose her temper.

"GET OFF ME!" I screamed, swinging my large shoulder bag around so it hit him square in the stomach. I turned and kicked the kissy-faced guy, hard, right where he deserved it. But there were still two guys full strength, and a third recovering quickly. I struggled against their grip, screaming for all I was worth—hey, you never know who's listening. I was hoping there would be a cop around, or something.

The guy I had whacked with my purse pulled a switchblade, clicking it open. I yelled again, tried to pull free from the men holding me. I was held against the wall by three of them, and the fourth was facing me with a knife. I screamed.

Suddenly, I heard another sound—vaguely familiar, but I couldn't place it. not something you hear every day. A thwhipping sort of sound. I felt the weight of my attackers lift, and I turned, stunned, to see what had happened.

Long strings had somehow attached themselves to the criminals and were dragging them across the street, to a figure I barely recognized.

Spider-Man? I wondered, shocked. But—he looked different, somehow.

From his perch on the side of a building, he back-flipped into their midst. I gasped as they attacked him. But he was more than able to take care of himself. I guess that comes from being accustomed to fighting hoodlums and supervillains every day. You get used to it.

He threw the first guy who rushed him. The would-be attacker just sprawled on the ground. I felt so hopeful then. The second guy approached Spider-Man with a low-placed football tackle. Spider-Man simply kicked him in the stomach before somersaulting over the attacker's shoulder to face a third man. As two more rushed him from behind, he punched both in the face. While they were still behind him. How does he do that? I wondered.

Just then, Spider-Man moved under a streetlight. I gasped. He's not wearing his mask! I wondered if it had been torn to bits in an earlier fight, or if he had simply forgotten to put it on…I strained to see his face, but he was whirling around in a flurry of fists, so I didn't see much.

I lost count of which guy was which after that, but four against one is not nearly a fair enough fight. Spider-Man was kicking their butts.

Literally, I thought as one of them went flying past me into a window. Another followed shortly after, nailing the window on the other side of me. I had to duck to avoid him. Spider-Man held the last guy out in front of him, as if to throw him against one of those brick walls, but he just let him drop to the ground.

His bare face turned to look at me as I slowly approached him, and he just stood there for a split second before turning agilely and rushing into the alley behind him.

I followed him. "Wait!" I wasn't about to let him get away this time. But it was too late. I walked into the alley and he was gone. The disappointment was almost too much to bear.

I didn't even get to thank him.

I turned back onto the street to go meet Harry, disheartened. Well, first I needed to find my coat and my purse, which I had lost in the struggle. I was soaked to the skin.

Suddenly, I found myself face to face with a familiar mask.

"You have a knack for getting in trouble." I turned to face the voice and jumped. Spider-Man was suspended from the building, upside-down, looking straight at me. Well, from what I could tell. Those eyepieces don't really give much away.

"You have a knack for saving my life," I replied. I couldn't resist teasing, "I think I have a superhero stalker."

"I was in the neighbourhood."

Where have I heard that before? I could have sworn—I dismissed that thought. "You are—amazing."

He shook his head slightly. "Some people don't think so," came his voice, almost—sad?

"But you are," I said softly, not leaving any room for argument. Someone's gotta believe in him; it doesn't matter what the papers say, or what anyone in the city says—he is amazing.

"Nice to have a fan," came the rueful voice. I still couldn't get over how normal he sounded. Just your average guy. Except when he was saving your life. Wow.

"Do I get to say thank you this time?" I slowly reached towards his neck, guessing at where the seam for his mask might be.

"Wait—" he said, but cut himself off. I guess he trusted me. (Now I know better…he really wanted me to know, somehow…but more on that later.)

I pulled the stretchy material down to just under his nose (remember, he's facing me, but he's upside-down…mmm…) and put my hands on the sides of his face, and kissed him.

Nothing had ever come close before, or has since, I think, to that moment. It was as if I had been waiting for that moment for all of my life…I can't even begin to describe the exhilaration, the warm tingles it sent through to my toes…that feeling of rightness, for whatever reason. And then he began to kiss me back.

Spider-Man is a really good kisser.