Dancing Around // peter parker

50

I sat with the information within me for a very long time. Like, two days long. I could feel it in me the whole time. It would bounce inside me when I took steps. It would throw itself against the walls of my head when I had a headache. It would try to crawl out of my mouth each time my lips would separate. It grew with each minute too. By the second day, it weighed more than me. It dragged behind me in a very ugly way. No one could see it except me. It would have dragged me to the ground if I hadn't gotten rid of it.

I didn't want to acknowledge it. I had wished I never looked through the photos. I had wished I never knew. I had a denial of some sort. I kept telling myself that it wasn't Peter all day long. There was no way it could be. Not my Peter. Not Peter Parker from across the hall. I would apply to jobs and submit applications while trying to convince myself. I would eat lunch and have full conversations while trying to deny it. I would study, do my homework, look at the ceiling, all while seeing his face in the blue and red suit on the rooftop.

I couldn't look at him in the eye anymore. He started waiting for me again. He would smile and ask me about my morning. Always with one earphone out. He would wish me a happy day and then walk in front of me. I would stare at his back and then look away when he caught me. He always looked back at me. Always. I didn't give him full sentences. I barely spoke to him. My body faced anywhere but his direction. He kept doing it. He kept talking to me. His voice would make it heavier, bigger, less avoidable.

In the end, I blamed Peter for my actions. I sat at the staircase, the same place I always sat at, looking up at the window. I watched small flakes of snow hit the dirty glass as I waited for him. The sky turned into a dark blue by the time I finally heard his footsteps. It was near midnight, but I didn't care. I needed to talk to him. I stood up and comforted my hands with the soft fabric of my jacket's pockets. He was three steps away from seeing me, then two, then one, then he met my eyes.

"Marina? What are you doing out so late? Avoiding your mom again?" He asked.

"Let's gets some food," I said.

"What?"

I passed him. "Come on. I'll pay," I yelled over my shoulder, climbing down the few steps to reach the ground floor.

I took him to a small dinner a couple of blocks away from our apartment complex. It was rundown and had a constant smell of eggs, but it was open 24/7 and I could afford their most expensive item. We sat at a booth next to the windows, way back in the dinner. The lights above us were a shade darker compared to all the others. Peter sat in front of me, nervous. He looked like how I imagine he would be at a job interview. His hands kept moved from his lap to the table then right back to his lap like he couldn't decide which place was the right place.

"Why do you want to buy me food?" He asked.

"I told you I would, remember?" I said.

"When?"

"That night after we went grocery shopping. When I asked you to go to the homecoming dance with me."

"Oh. Right. But I didn't end up going with you, remember?"

"By the end of the night, you were with me."

Our food came a long time after I had said those words. Peter didn't say anything, but then again, he never really did. A plate of freshly made eggs with bacon was placed in front of him and a burger with fries was placed in front of me. Our waiter said enjoy and left us alone. I waited until after he had taken a bite from his sunny-side-up eggs to speak. The yellow yolk traveled every which way on his plate, leaving no white space behind.

"I know you're Spider-Man," I said, before taking a bite from my meal.

He froze up. He looked at me and then laughed. It was fake but convincing. Maybe if I hadn't heard his laugh so many times before, I would have bought it. "What? You're crazy, girl," he said.