Halfway through unpacking my things, I realize Michelle is right. I have to talk to Peter. Now. Especially if the pool is still a plan for tonight.

When I tell Michelle so, she nods but doesn't look up from her book. (She mentioned it a minute ago and promised to lend it to me when she finished; consequently, the moment she dug it out, she decided to put off unpacking and read instead.) I toss my bag on my bed and go to the hallway.

I knock on the boys' door.

Ned answers.

"Hey Y/N. Wow, I haven't seen you in a whole-" he looks at his watch, "seven minutes!"

"Can I have a quick minute with Peter?" I ask.

"Are you really asking me to step out of my own room?"

"You can get on my laptop and message Betty from my Facebook. Ask what she's up to. Maybe mention yourself, see what she says?"

"What, why wou- I don't- can't you just- I mean, honestly."

"I put the little knob thingy in the door, so it's open if you want to go do that."

Ned considers the idea.

"Actually, that's a violation of trust. Not cool. But I will go chill in your room. I need to talk to MJ anyway."

Talk to MJ without me?

"Wait, why?"

"Um, there's just… a thing. Anyway. Yeah. Hey, Peter!" Ned opens the door all the way and shouts behind his shoulder. "The stripper's here!"

"The what?" I ask, bewildered. "Why-why would you say that?"

Ned shakes his head, hands open.

"Dude, I don't know! I just- I need to go! Bye!"

Ned shoves me out of his way and into the room.

"Ned, the what?" Peter says, jumping into frame from their bathroom.

God, my face must be red.

"I'm a stripper now?"

"You're a- you're a what, now?"

Peter's eyebrows nearly graze his hairline. My face is definitely warm.

"Nothing. Ned was just being really… weird. Anyway, I wanted to ask you something."

I close the door and walk over to Ned's bed, thinking Peter will sit across from me on his. He doesn't. He stays, standing next to their closet.

"About this morning. With Flash. Do you want me to… say anything, to Mr. Harrington?"

"Wh- no, no, definitely not. It's nothing. I- I don't even know why you're bringing it up. It's not like he can hurt me, obviously."

"Physically, I know, I just mean that you shouldn-"

"Can we just forget about it?"

"Absolutely, if that's what you want. And last night, with dinner-"

"And maybe that too? I was a dick. I'm really sorry. I kind of feel like I almost ruined your night and that would have been awful because I know you were excited."

You were excited too, remember?

"It's fine. Is everything okay with you though? The last few days were… odd."

He runs his hands through his hair and clasps them behind his head. He makes a face like he's trying to remember if he's had any minor inconveniences recently. He avoids eye contact.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything's, ah, everything is… normal."

Everything is not normal, Peter.

"Peter, I…." I want to say that I don't believe him, that he shouldn't have to put up with how Flash treats him. I want to say that he can talk to me. "I'll go back to my room. You probably have more to unpack."

I start to get up.

"Eh, not really."

I pause. Does he want me to stay? Is he going to tell me why he's been so an-arm's-length-away this week?

"But if, um, you could tell Ned that I wanna talk to him, I'd appreciate it."

He half-smiles.

"Tomorrow, I'm either going to hug him or kill him."

It's tomorrow and I'm leaning toward kill. Killing all of my friends. What does everyone need to talk about without me?

But that won't get Peter (or anyone) to talk to me about whatever's bothering him (or them).

So I end up doing a stupid thing. As I pass Peter on my way to leave, I turn around, pivoting on my heels like a robot programmed for a sharp corner, and I hug him. I just latch on like a parasite. It's a pretty tight hug. Especially for two people who don't hug a lot. Or ever. Except when May made us this morning.

He smells so good. I know from half-living at his apartment that it's Old Spice deodorant, but that doesn't stop me from thinking how much I associate it with the word home (or from thinking how awkward that thought is in the first place). Peter and home remind me of warmth and comfort and fireplaces and being okay.

Last night he was close enough to kiss me, then with the way he looked at me before I rambled about the dirt, and now this. I'm self-sabotaging my Stop Thinking About Peter mission.

He jerks back at first, but after a second he's almost leaning into it. His hands are cautiously, sort of, patting my back. Oh, fuck me. I had to make this weirder. Why not make it worse? I squeeze him harder. It's meant as a "You're my friend and I love you more than you realize, so please, please, please, trust me - talk to me" squeeze. I'm not sure it comes through, since he doesn't do it back. Or move at all. He clearly wants it over with.

Thoroughly embarrassed, I pull away and beeline to the door. Neither of us say a word.

Oh my god. I… I don't know why I did that.

During the ten seconds I stand in the hallway between our two doors with my hands on my head thinking about how stupid I am, I decide not to tell Ned or Michelle about this awkward hug. If they ask me about it later, then I'll know Peter is willing to talk to them and not me… or that they really are all communicating without me and it's not just my paranoia. Then… I'll just need to figure out why.

Maybe they're sick of you.

Or maybe you're overreacting.

Ten seconds up, I turn quickly to push my door open.

It's locked. My key card is sitting on my bed, next to my bag.

"MJ?" I call, knocking. "Ned? Can you guys let me in?"

Nothing. I press my ear against the door. They're definitely having a conversation.

"Guys, seriously. Please let me in."

I really don't want Peter to hear this and open his door right now.

Ned answers, his voice a bit distant.

"Just hold on a second! I need a minute with MJ."

"It's been a minute! It's been like five minutes!"

"Only three, dude."

I jiggle the door handle and bang my head against the door.

"Let me in, please."

I stay silent a moment and hear a phone dialing somewhere past the door. Seriously? Are they calling Peter now? When did my friends become such secret-keepers? (I know, I know. That's rhetorical.)

I press my ear to the door. All I can hear is a muffled cloud of hushed conversation. Whatever is going on, I know Ned and Michelle well enough to know that I could be out here for a while, so I sit.

A door opens.

But it's not mine and it's not Peter's. It's at the opposite end of the hall.

Flash.

No, no, no, no, no. Not right now.

I'm too lost with this new, weird exclusion dynamic at the moment. I'm not going to let Flash anger me. So when I scramble and jump up, I try a knock on Peter's door.

"Hey, Y/N!" Flash shouts.

Open the door, open the door, open the door.

Thank God, the door opens.

It's only slightly ajar, but I can see Peter with a phone up to his ear.

"Hey, um, I've got a call."

The door closes.

Fuck.


Needless to say, Flash had the opportunity to get at me, and he did. For the whole seven minutes I was locked out, he had a lot of observations to make. Mostly, "Oh my God, are you locked out of your own room? And isn't that Ned and Peter's room? They won't let you in either? Ha! That's a weird place to be, huh? They've seemed really secretive around you lately. Lots of texting and side conversations when you're not around. Then that dinner thing where you're Silent Sally the whole time. Hey, why's Penis Parker so mad at you, huh? You've looked like such a lost dog the last couple days. You know, the kind whose owners dropped it off in the middle of a road, but it doesn't get the hint and keeps searching for them?"

Rule #1 of being anywhere in Flash's vicinity: Never listen to Flash.

If I had to choose between my three best friends and Flash, I would always choose my friends. No matter the circumstances. No matter the repercussions. I just don't get why Flash's regularly shitty behavior is somehow reassuring. At least I know what to expect.