NOT ANOTHER TEEN MOVIE ∙ Peter Parker

✸ Chapter Thirty-Seven: Homecoming Queen

Peter stopped on his way to the bathroom when he saw her sitting in the hallway, and he turned around in the same beat to the head for the other side of the school. Before he could take a step, realization hit that he was being an idiot and couldn't avoid her forever. The last two days had been spent repairing the holes Spider-Man made in his life, and the one that kept the entire boat from sinking (maybe too soon for that metaphor) hadn't been considered yet. Turning around again, Peter returned back to the direction where she sat.

Her hair was pulled up into a tight but messy bun, certain locks falling awkwardly because of how short she cut it over the summer. Peter wondered what it would look like bright red, the same shade as when fought in Berlin, but he quickly reserved those thoughts to the past because he was done now. Lizzie had been done. Wearing a black Midtown hoodie and a pair of light-wash jeans, Peter remembered then that he had not returned the hoodie she lent him. Aunt May washed it, only raising a suggestive brow when she noticed the 'CARTER' and '3' on the back.

Lizzie must have heard his footsteps. Peter got caught up in watching her, only because he could see the smallest of movements indicating to him that she wasn't as attentive to her own space as others may think. The hand using a yellow highlighter stopped. Most people would be deceived by the headphones, but he could barely hear the music through them. But what he'd come to really notice, was that she tilted her head ever-so-slightly to the right. Finally, curiosity got the better of her when he slowed down, and brown eyes met their match as she raised her chin up just enough. To his surprise, she didn't look angered or even remotely upset with him.

Lizzie Carter might have actually smiled at him.

"Hey, Parker," she greeted him, adjusting her limbs again when she felt the tingling sensation start. "Trying to run away from geometry?"

Peter felt offended by that. "I love geometry...no, just—uh, just going to the bathroom. What're you doing? Trying to run away from Spanish?"

"Ah...Я снова побил тебя," she answered, catching him entirely off-guard.

Russian dialect didn't sound great on her tongue, and it was chopped and disgraceful, but Peter couldn't tell the difference between that. Clearly, not Spanish: I beat you again. Lizzie had to translate the words and mentally picture them on paper in order to say them aloud, one of the many things necessary when speaking another language. Natasha taught her that when she began her and Wanda's lessons, although the latter of them was significantly better considering she already knew two languages fluently verses Lizzie's one and a half at the time.

Peter ignored the boyish inclination to find her speaking Russian attractive, instead choosing to note the obvious. "That wasn't Spanish."

"Qué?" she asked in feigned surprise, eyes lighting up mischievously. "I never knew. This whole time...I finished up my assignment early. I'm currently planning something. Are you going to the dance tomorrow?"

Peter pursed his lips to the side, glancing down at his feet. "Ah...I don't know—"

"I didn't tell you this, but Taylor scouted every breathing soul in Midtown to find me a date...a certain someone you might know still doesn't have one. Do with that what you will."

The information had his neck launching up, brown eyes widening as he looked at Lizzie in shock. "What? Are you serious? She—what, how? I mean—wait. Why don't you have a date? I thought you would be going with C.T."