Behind the Mask

THREE: Damsel in Distress

.:::.

I squinted at the sun again, this time because it was piercing through two buildings and created a mask just over my eyes. The only reason the sun ever did that in my apartment was when it was almost four in the afternoon, or six in the summer time.

I was a little disoriented, recognizing the layout of the room but not the things inside it. The pillow under my head had an unfamiliar smell, as the bed had an unfamiliar feel.

I curled my body to get the harsh sunlight out of my eyes. I let them adjust to my new surroundings.

I heard the soft but rather annoying tones and beeps coming from a police scanner. Greg always had one, and Chase used one, too. He turned his off sometimes, though.

Why was there a police scanner in my apartment? It wasn't my apartment; I was locked out of my apartment, I reminded myself. This wasn't my apartment...and this wasn't my bed!

I shot up into a sitting position, ignoring the dizzy sensation in my head. I spotted my jacket hanging off the bed post beside my shoes and my phone on the bedside table. The digital clock there read four thirty.

I had just slept in Spiderman's bed for over six hours?

I looked down at the way my legs wrapped around the sheets and the thick blanket surrounding me. I kicked them both off and shivered as my skin was exposed to the air.

It didn't sound like he was home, but I still carefully stepped down to the wooden floor. I pulled my shoes on my feet and grabbed my phone in one motion.

I picked up my jacket and started looking for the door to leave when my ears caught a gentle thump that had come from the balcony. I shifted my eyes to the glass doors and instantly spotted the red and blue suit.

Spiderman noticed my escape attempt and I froze. He pushed open the doors from the balcony and walked inside. "Where are you running off to?"

I was still frozen, not with fear but in awe. "Um,"

He tugged the mask off his head and revealed a less intimidating face beneath. He ran his fingers over his balmy forehead and messy hair. Just a normal guy, I remembered. A normal guy still waiting for my answer.

"I was - I figured I would just - I don't want to be a nuisance."

He basically ignored me. I watched him dig in a drawer for a plain t-shirt and sweatpants. "Do you want some water or something?"

I became suddenly aware of the dryness in my throat. "Water?"

He smirked at me, the stupid fangirl that could barely speak in his presence. "I'll be right back. Don't try and run away again."

I set down my jacket to show him I wasn't going anywhere.

He left for the kitchen, taking his new clothes with him. While he was gone, I took in a deeper observation of his apartment. He wasn't the neatest person, but it didn't bother me. One of the reasons it seemed so cluttered was the books scattered about the room. Lots and lots of notebooks, textbooks, all kinds of books.

Peter returned and offered me a water bottle. I thanked him kindly for it. He was now dressed in his simple sweats, which allowed me to become generally more comfortable. I managed to take a seat on the edge of the bed.

He waited for me to take a sip of water before he started talking again. "I heard about your brother." He frowned when my caramel colored skin turned white. "I'm sorry."

I switched on the numbness. "It's okay."

The way he looked at me indicated that he didn't agree.

I picked at the label on the bottle. "I know getting drunk isn't the best way to deal with it. But I'm not hurting anybody, so it shouldn't matter." I peeked up at him. "Right?"

He pursed his lips. "Are you sure you aren't hurting anybody?"

I pondered the thought. I hadn't spoken to my parents in a significant amount of time, and Chase encouraged all the drinking. "I don't think so."

He scanned his eyes over me, pointing out my current condition.

"Oh." I said quietly, ripping the label in half. I was hurting myself, wasn't I?

"You're in a stranger's apartment because you couldn't walk on your own two feet." He said. "I'd consider that inflicting self-harm."

"But we're not strangers." I said, and sort of regretted it. "I mean, I've met you before. And you helped me get to the hospital and you trusted me with your secret identity." I reminded him. Why did I talk so much?

Peter sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Maybe not my best decision..."

I tried to mend it. "I wouldn't tell anyone."

He held back a smirk and took a sip of his own water. This seemed to be a habit of his, smirking at my honesty. Maybe I was just gullible.

"Can I ask you something?" I blurted.

Peter lowered the volume on the police scanner.

"You were on the elevator the other night,"

"Yeah, I think you were there, too?" He pointed at me with the smart comment.

I had to smile a little. "What is Spiderman doing on an elevator? Why don't you just shoot some webs and fly?"

He chuckled at my word choice. "That's like me asking why you don't skip everywhere. Just because you can do it, doesn't mean you always want to."

I didn't agree, but accepted his answer anyway. "You didn't have to help me." I said, lowering my voice. "You could have just let me rot for hours in a metal box. It wouldn't have made a difference. Greg still would have..."

His answer was delayed. "I know."

I swallowed hard. "So why did you do it?"

I watched his face change slightly as he formed his response. "A decent guy would do anything he could if he ran into a damsel in distress."

It was the first time I felt a nudge of warmth around my heart since that night.

I didn't waste time moving on. "So this morning, when you were late to-"

"You know, this is more than just 'something'."

I raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"

"You said you wanted to ask me 'something', as in one thing. This is going on your third 'something." He told me.

I didn't really know how to respond to that.

He answered anyway. "I was late because I wanted to drop off photos of myself at the Daily Bugle."

We stared at each other until I burst out laughing. "Seriously?"

He didn't see the humor in it. "Well...yeah. Nobody else gets as good of a shot."

I dropped my eyes to my lap. "Oh."

My phone started ringing in my lap, interrupting us. I read Chase's name on the caller ID.

"Hey," I sighed, remembering my key at his place.

"Where are you?" He questioned. "I have your stuff and I'm on my way."

My eyes locked on Peter, and slowly widened. "Oh. I'm...okay. I'll meet you there."

"You okay?" He asked over a car horn. "You sound different. What happened today?"

"I'm fine, I just spent the day...out and about." I added a nervous laugh on the end. Peter shook his head at my awful lying skills. I bit my lip, embarrassed.

I ended my conversation with Chase and scrambled to get out of the bed and gather my things again.

"Are you okay to get home by yourself?" Peter asked me.

"I think so." I snatched the water bottle from the bed and verified that I had all of my belongings.

"Olivia,"

I snapped my head up at my name. "Hmm?"

His smile was playful. "Don't forget to breathe. That's important."

I smiled back, feeling another pinch of warmth in my cheeks as I let out the air I was holding in. "Right."

He walked me to his door and opened it wide, revealing a long hallway that would lead to the elevator - or in my case, the stairs.

"Thank you so much for everything." I said in the most sincere way that I could. "You didn't have to do any of it."

"You're welcome. Just try not to drink so much next time."

"Hopefully, there won't be a next time." I stepped out into the hall, but turned around again. "I'll see you on Wednesday, right?"

He nodded once. "Photo at nine a.m. sharp."

I nodded to verify, and then forced myself to keep walking. I still had so many questions for him. I'd have to ask him another time.

The numbered plates on the doors began with a seven, indicating that I was on the seventh floor. I had to take two flights of stairs down to five.

Chase was leaning against the wall next to my apartment. He rested my bag next to his feet, and twirled my keys around in his fingers.

He straightened up and smiled when I approached him. "There's my girl." He kissed me once on my lips.

"I'm sorry." I said. "Today was a really weird day for me."

"No worries." He grinned mysteriously, holding my keys up to my face and then inserting them into the lock. "We've got all night to catch up. After we stop by the chief's house tonight, I think we should crash here." He pushed open my door.

"The chief?" I asked, dumbfounded. Then I remembered the monthly spaghetti dinner held at the police chief's home located just outside the city for select officers and their families. Greg used to go, but I was never invited. Until now.

"Don't you remember? I asked you to be my date last week."

I nodded too many times. "Right, right. I remember."

Chase allowed me inside first, following behind. "I sort of have to go, but you can stay here if you're not up to it."

"No, I'll go." I insisted. "It'll be fun."