"So, Peter, what are you studying in school?" My mom spun her spaghetti in her fork, and lifted the fork to her mouth.

"Engineering Physics at ESU," Peter replied, chewing his mouthful of food. "I'm also planning to take a photography class next year."

"That's quite the diversity," My father answered.

Peter nodded.

"So do you have a job?"

"I actually just got a job. It's a small thing, just working for the daily bugle once a week."

"What?" I said a little too loud, "You never told me, that's awesome!"

"That's what I was going to tell you earlier," Peter smiled, "They're paying me to take pictures of Spider-man."

"That's incredible, Peter." My mom replied.

"Yeah!" I concurred, giving him a pat on the back.

"Thanks," He chuckled.

There was a short, drawn out, silence. "So, how long have you to been together?"

Peter started coughing, choking on something. I dropped my fork, resulting in a large clang. This just made the room a whole lot discomfited.

"Umm—"

Peter continued to cough. He grabbed his glass of water and chugged what was left of it. Once he calmed himself, he apologized for his sudden outburst.

"Mom, umm, Peter and I are not together. We're just good friends."

"Oh." My mom said, almost disappointed. "Oh…"

"Yeah."

After we all finished dinner, we sat on my couch to talk for a little bit, before my parents had to leave. The New York News played in the background of out jabbering.

Peter and my father continued to talk about Peter's father, Richard, while my mom and I talked about Jess for a little bit. We were all caught up in our conversations when my dad interrupted us. "What did the news just say?"

I turned away from my mother and towards my father, who fervently grabbed the remote, blasting the volume up.

"Dr. Hendrix was last seen at Oscorp Industries working with cross-species wolf DNA. He hasn't been seen since and the missing person's report has been out for over a week now. If anyone has seen him immediately contact the NYPD."

A pictured appeared on the screen. It was an older man, probably a man older then my father. He had grayish hair, was dressed in lab gear, and the wrinkles on his face suggested he was about sixty years old. He was tall, but not too tall.

"That's a shame…" My father broke the silence. "Hendrix was a good man. I worked with him often."

"You did?" Peter asked before I could.

My father nodded in response. "He was working for a long time on finding some way to regain his hearing. He went deaf after a tragic lab experiment back in '03. I really hope this isn't another Curt Connors thing and instead he's just taken an unannounced leave of absence."

Peter nodded. "Me too…" He said, mostly to himself.

When the NYPD sounded in the distance I practically expected Peter to leave. It was just some strange coincidence that always seemed to happen.

As expected, he explained that, "Aunt May asked me to pick her up from work. I completely forget! Emily, I'm sorry. I'll see you tomorrow?"

I nodded, disappointingly.

He gave me a quick hug, said his goodbyes and flew out the door.

"That was quite abrupt." My father blurted after Peter's absence.

I nodded, "It happens often. He forgets stuff a lot."

My mother smiled, looking contently at me. "Well, we better get going."

I felt my heart ache. As surprising as this visit was, it was nice to see my parents. I said goodbye to my father, who gave me his famous giant bear hug. When I turned to my mother, she smothered me with kisses, leaving red lipstick stains all over my face.

She gave me one long hug and whispered something softly in my ear. "That boy likes you a lot."

I released our hug and stared into her eyes, frowning. "How do you know?"

"He couldn't stop staring at you the whole dinner. I know he does, because your father always used to look at me like that." She smiled tenderly, giving my one last kiss on the cheek, and then headed out the door to join my father.

"SAM!" I shrieked, jumping on to her fluffy pink bed. It was like a cloud, "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" I woke her up the exact same way she woke me up. "Are you excited!?" I asked, jumping up and down on her bed.

She yawned, but smiled after. "Of course I am. This is going to be the hugest party anyone's ever had."

I had been planning Sam's party for the last week, with the help of Peter. We rented out a venue, got numerous fake ID's, copious amounts of alcohol and a huge birthday cake. Sam had a lot of friends, so it took a solid two days to invite everyone. I invited some people I knew, as well. There was close to 200 coming. Some people from high school, some from college or university. This was literally going to be one of the biggest parties ever.

I still hadn't gone shopping for a dress… and since making some extra money from tips at Beans n' Crème, I decided I would treat myself today. Sam, like the typical rich girl with rich parents, had acquired at last 3 dresses for the nights. One for playing hostess, one for dancing, and one for cake-time.

I got her something small for her birthday, deciding that planning 90% of her birthday was a ig enough present already. I handed her a card and a little box.

She opened it, making squealing noises as she did so. When she saw the two small bracelets and necklace, she squealed even more. When we went shopping last week for her dresses, she obsessed over these pieces of jewelry in one of the magazines. The store clerk said they were out of stock until next week, but with the help of a little extra money and some bribing I paid for it to be shipped early.

"Thank you so much!" She pulled me into a tight, un-breathable, hug.

"You're welcome," I managed to get out.

After making her a lovely birthday breakfast, I let her finish her last party details while I went to shop. I was in dying need of a new dress and I knew just the place to shop. It was a half an hour walk to the store, but well worth it.

After saying a quick hello to the store clerk I immediately walked over to the racks labeled "Sale". A Dash of Red was by far my favorite dress store. Sam had bought her hostess dress here.

After half an hour of trying things on and taking things off I was practically ripping my hair out due to the frustration that I couldn't find anything.

"I think salmon is definitely more your color." I turned towards the voice, stunned when I didn't see someone in a work uniform ready to help me, but rather a man dressed in grungy, dirty clothes. There were holes and tears and them and he looked like he had just been in a fight. This man was in his around his late fifties early sixties and he looked familiar. I felt like I had seen him somewhere…

"Try it on." He shoved a salmon colored dress towards me. It was beautiful, really. But this man was straight up creepy. Why would he be helping me? In fact, why was he in a woman's dress store anyway?

I snatched the dress out of his hands and muttered, "Thanks…" as I walked away from him, shooting him a penetrating stare.

I looked at the dress and then back at him, and he was gone.

What the…?

I shook it off, and walked into the change room, putting it on.

It was beautiful. The shear, flowy, silky fabric full perfectly over my body. The short cocktail dress complimented my long legs. The shear lace fabric lay across the strapless top, like a lace t-shirt. It was embroidered with some sparkles and fake diamonds, making it stand out but not too much. Sam had a perfect pair of heels I could borrow to match this, some plain nude colored pumps. I actually thought I looked pretty, looking at myself in the dress, and so did the rest of the store apparently. The gasps and gawking eyes made me feel good.

I had no choice but to buy this dress. I had too. It was like it was made for me. How did that guy know my size? Well as eerie as that encounter was, I decided to buy the dress anyways, as well as a small silver clutch.

A smile was plastered across my face as I walked out of the store.

My ringtone blaring through my jeans pocket startled me.

I snatched the phone out of my pocket and held it to my ear.

"Hello?" I asked.

"I have no idea what to wear!" It was Peter, of course. "I mean, I've never really been to a party— or whatever this is. Do I dress up? Or wear something casual? What do I wear?"

"Pete!" I giggled, "Calm down. Stop worrying. Just wear something nice, a dress shirt maybe. Wear some dark pants and nice shoes and you're good to go. You look good in anything, trust me."

"You think so…?" He asked after a small pause.

"I know so." I assured.

"Okay. I have to go. See you at 8:30?"

"See you then, Pete." I smiled.

My heels (Which were really Sam's) clicked as I walked across the cold pavement. Sam and I entered the venue her parents rented out. It was nice, a little small, though. There was a bar in the corner, a dance floor with a giant disco ball in the middle of the room, and lots and lots chairs and tables. It paid to have rich parents like Sam. Boy, was I glad I was best friends with her.

People didn't start showing up until around nine. I was surprised when 9:30pm rolled around and there was no sign of Peter. He acted all nervous and cute about this, even somewhat excited, and for him to not show up was a disappointment. I called him a few times, but there was no answer.

Instead of moping around waiting for Peter, I decided to have fun. I ran over to the bar, grabbing a few drinks and chugging them.

"You might want to slow down…" The bartender suggested, but I didn't listen.

Drink after drink after drink after drink.

When I started to feel the effects of the alcohol a little while later, I walked to the dance floor. The music was blasting, there were strobe lights everywhere, and people I recognized from high school and college danced their butts off. And of course, not wanting to pass a good dance, I did too.

The room felt super hot and sticky, due to the amount of sweaty bodies around me. The loud thumping music made me feel thrilled inside. I could feel the bass in my chest, vibrating through me. The room reeked of cigarette smoke and booze.

The crush of people around me was like a suffocating ocean.

I kept dancing, swinging my body around, and my head couldn't take it. The dizziness was beginning to be too much, so I sat down. I watched as Sam danced with her new guy, Brandon. She looked like she was having the time of her life, a little drunk maybe, but still the time of her life.

"Stop the music!" She yelled a few moments later, stumbling into her boy's later. "Stop the music…" She slurred.

The DJ obeyed, and a bright spotlight was turned onto her.

"Shhh!" She hushed everyone, smiling. "Okay, okay. I just wanna say thank you to my bestest friend for doing this all for me. Not only are you t-the best roommate but you are the greatest sister I never had. Thank you so much!" She ripped off her heels and came stampeding towards me.

I took her with open arms and hugged her. I could smell the alcohol in her breath as she whispered "Thank you so much."

I just smiled, "You're welcome. Go dance!" I pushed her away.

The spotlight switched off and the music continued.

I smiled, looking at my best friend.

"Emily Taylor, right?"

I looked to the voice that had called to me.

It was a tall boy, his hair was buzz cut and his blue eyes stood out even in the dimness of this room. I recognized this face, it was Max Summers. He was in a few of my classes at Midtown High but I never talked to him. The only time I did was when he was my lab partner in Biology junior year.

I nodded, "Max Summers, how are you?"

"Wonderful, just enjoying the party." He smiled, "And you?"

"Good as well."

He smiled.

I gave him a small grin, and then scanned the room again, looking for Peter. There was still no sign of him. I glanced over at the entrance, but Peter wasn't there either. It wasn't like Peter to be late…

"Expecting someone?"

I looked to Max, biting my lip. "Kinda."

"Pffft." A playful expression was etched across Max's face, "If they stood you up they can't be that important."

I frowned.

"I bet you five bucks I could be better company than that guy."

I just rolled my eyes, but he didn't see.

"Come on," He grabbed my wrist but snatched it back.

He arched a brow at me and I folded my arms. When he started to walk away I followed, but kept distance.

"Two shots of the most expensive vodka you have." He said to the bartender, resting an elbow on the counter.

I smirked. Free alcohol, I was okay with that.

Once the bartender poured us drinks we counted to three, and then tossed back the clear liquid into the back of our throat.

I felt the cold liquid scorch down my throat, making the pit of my stomach feel burned when it reached it.

"Another?" He asked.

I nodded.

"See, I'm pretty good company, aren't I?"

"Well then there's free booze involved…" I whispered to myself.

"What?" His blue eyes pierced mine.

"Nothing," I shook my head, snatching up the other shot.

A few drinks later, I felt nauseous.

"Want to dance?"

I shook my head fervently Hell no. I was not dancing after that.

I slumped lower on the bar stool I sat on, leaning on the black, granite, counter for support. I watched as Max reached into the bowl on the bar and pulled out a handful of pretzels. He ate them slowly, one at a time.

I could feel the warmth of the alcohol running through me.

The noises around me sounded muffled, and I rested my head against the bar for comfort.

I looked around the room, at the dancing bodies, and the strobing lights, and I felt like I was seeing double. I couldn't remember the last time I had gotten drunk, and now I remember why it was so long ago.

It was a horrible feeling…

"Are you okay?"

I shook my sweaty forehead.

"Maybe you need a breath of fresh air…" He grabbed my waist and led me outside. I grabbed his shoulder for support.

The large doors squealed as we walked out into the dimly light alley beside the venue. There was no oe inside, nothing but a large green dumpster.

The fresh air felt better to breathe in. I gasped.

I leaned against the cold stone wall, pulling my heels off.

We were silent for a while.

After a minute passed, I decided to talk, breaking the awkward silence. "So do you go to school, or—"

His alcohol drenched lips crushed against mine and my head fell back against the stone wall.

I pushed him off of me. "What the—"

He came back, pressing his lips even harder against mine. I tried to wrench him off of me, but he was pretty strong. When I did manage to pull him off, I used as much strength as possible to slap him across the face.

"Are you fucking kidding me? What gives you the right to—"

"Come on…" he whispered, pressing his lips to my neck. He placed his hand on my thigh and slowly trailed it upwards.

"Get off of me!" I screamed. "Someone help me!"

"Shh." He warned.

I tried to get a good grip to throw him off but it was no use. This guy played football in high school. He was 6'2 and I was only 5'7.

He kept kissing my neck and I kept elbowing his abdomen.

"Help!" I screamed.

Like a prayer being answered, someone threw him off of me.

Max was now on the floor and Peter was on top, literally beating the crap out of him. Punch after punch. Blood trickled from the guys face.

"Peter!" I screamed. I grabbed his arm, lifting him up. His eyes were targeted on Max though. Peter was filled with pure rage. "Peter, let's go…" I whispered.

It took all my strength to pull Peter away from the alley and onto the street.

He was huffing with fury.

I clung onto his bicep, partially to keep him near me so he didn't go back, and partially to keep myself up so I didn't fall.

"Peter, are you okay?"

He looked up at me, "Am I okay? Am I okay? Are you okay?! You almost got raped!"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just a little spooked. And drunk…" I dug my nails into Peter tighter, feeling like I might fall. "Thank you for saving me."

He didn't say anything, just watched as his feet hit the pavement.

"You know, I didn't think you had that in you."

He smirked at my comment.

I grinned, glancing down. "So when did you arrive?"

"Well I saw you at the bar with him, that was when I first got there A few seconds later I saw you leave to go outside into the alley. I just assumed you were getting some fresh air but when you didn't come back for a while, I went to check on you."

I grinned wide, peering up at him. "Were you jealous?"

His head jolted up, "What? No. Of course not."

"You were totally jealous. Why else would you check on me and him?" I teased.

He just blushed, smiling.

That made me feel good inside. I think I was kind of developing some kind of crush to Peter. I probably wouldn't ever admit it to him, but I did.

A butterfly sensation expanded throughout me. It took me few seconds to realize it wasn't butterflies I was feeling, it was vomit.

My mouth started to water and I could sense what was about to happen next.

"Oh no…" I breathed.

"What?" Peter asked, "What is it? Are you okay?"

I let go of Peter's arm and covered my mouth with my hand. I dropped my high heels onto the pavement and started running, more like stumbling, towards my apartment.

My head was spinning, but I continued to run. Luckily we had already walked far enough that it was just around the corner. When I made it to the front entrance, I practically sprinted inside, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.

Not to self: Stairs is not an appropriate mode of transportation to home for a drunken person.

When I made it to my floor, I unlocked the door, leaving it wide open, and ran to the washroom. I could feel the bile filling my mouth but I had just made it to the toilet, thankfully. I heaved into the large white bowl, coughing every now and again.

There was a knock on the bathroom door and it creaked open.

"Emily?"

"Go away." I coughed, "Please," I said, puking again. I should have locked the front door. What was I thinking? Of course Peter would follow. That's just the type of nice guy he is.

Peter chuckled, opening the door. "I'm not leaving you like this." He sat down beside me, as I leaned over the toilet, and held my curly blonde hair out of my face.

I was vomiting for another five minutes, when I finally felt like I had disposed of every ingredient in my body.

Peter let go of my hair, and I wiped my face with a towel. I collapsed onto the cold, bathroom floor, and moaned.

"You didn't have to do that you know…" I said, pinching the bridge of my nose and shutting my eyes.

"I did, actually. Now I don't feel so bad about ditching you again."

"Why'd you ditch?" I ask.

"Something… came up."

"What came up?"

"I can't tell you."

"Why?" I asked, finally reopening my eyes.

"It's a long story."

"I have time."

"Well I was, uh, taking pictures of Spider-man for my boss. There was a shooting downtown and Spider-man came to the rescue. It was my first opportunity to send photo's to The Daily Bugle."

I frowned, my eyebrows knitting into a neat line. "You're lying. I may be drunk, but I still know you're lying, Peter."

He shook his head, "I'm not."

"Whatever," I shrugged, standing up.

I walked to the sink to brush my teeth.

It took a good three minutes before the minty taste drowned out the bile flavor.

"Thanks for doing- er- that." I said, referring to him holding up my hair.

"No problem," He smiled, walking out of the bathroom.

We walked to the living room and collapsed onto the sofa.

He blew out a large breath, sighing, as he turned on the television.

"Rough day?" I laughed, referring to his sigh.

"Totally" He smiled.

We watched television for a few minutes, watching Spider-man on the news as he swung from building to building, saving people, and capturing bad guys.

I relaxed into the sofa, and my hand accidently moved towards Peter's.

When his cold hand met mine, he moved it, avoiding touch again.

I rolled my eyes. This was so expected of Peter. He hated affection. I wasn't so sure anymore if it was because of Gwen, or because of some self reason that he hadn't told me about.

When he heard me yawn, he stood up from the couch. "Well I better go. Aunt May will be waiting up for me, like she always does."

"How come she does? I mean, not that it's a bad thing."

Peter licked his lips, his shoulders shrugging back. "Well, ever since Uncle Ben died, she won't rest until she knows I'm home safe."

"Hmm," I nodded, curious to how he Ben had passed. I stood up from the couch and followed Peter to the front door. "Well thanks again for saving me and doing the hair thing and what not…" I folded my hands together, holding them up to my face. I gave him a fake smile and batted my eyelashes. "You're my hero, Peter!" I sarcastically explained.

"Yeah, whatever Blondie." Peter chuckled, rolling his eyes.

My ears perked up. Only one other person had called me that and it was Spider-man. Their voices literally sounded the exact same. It was like they were the same person…"What did you just say?"

Peter's eyes darted back and forth, which made me suspicious, "Oh, uh, nothing."

"You just called me Blondie."

"Umm... Did I?"

"Yes. You did."

"Is that okay? Or…"

I gnawed on my lip, thinking this through a few times. There was no way he could be… but it was possible, wasn't it? "Yeah, I just— I'm really tired. I'm going to sleep."

"Oh, well I'm just going to head out then…"

"Sure, sure." I responded, not really paying attention to him.

He waved goodbye, and then departed the room.

Was it just the alcohol telling me this or was Peter Spider-man?

After changing into pajamas and brushing my teeth once more to rid the vile taste, I jumped into my bed, pulling the covers up to my neck. I grasped them tight. Peter couldn't be Spider-man. But it totally made sense. I mean, he was obsessed with spiders… His father worked at Oscorp Industries studying cross-species spiders. Peter was always disappearing whenever the sound of sirens were heard. He also had possible the most impeccable senses I've ever seen, almost un-human like. He left today because he was 'taking pictures of Spider-man', but how could he take pictures if he was Spider-man? I was going insane. There was no way. But it all made perfect sense… If there was a remote possibility he was, then that made sense why he wasn't at the party today, because he was out saving people. Now that I thought about it, terrible wounds always randomly appeared on him, like the black eye, and the burns. The burns like what Spider-man would have after saving a building full of people burning alive…

Could this be some crazy theory I made up in my head? Or was I just denying myself of the factual truth…

I would find out, one way or another.

And I wouldn't rest well until I did.

A/N: Hello I hope you enjoy this chapter :) I probably wont update for a week and a bit because I'm going away! I really hope you enjoy this chapter, let me know what you want to see and what you hope for the next few chapters! Thanks for the reviews they're the only thing (as well as people following and favouriting) that makes me keep writing! Also, if anyone's good at photoshop feel free to create a cover photo for this story! Thanks again :)