𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐞𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐫

𝐯𝐢𝐢. 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐧𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐬?

what emails?

"yeah, yeah," i answer, non truthfully.

"right?"

"regarding the..." i think.

"you didn't tell me about the grant," may accuses.

what the fuck is going on?

"about the grant," i say, unknowing.

"the september foundation," tony says.

i've heard of it but what would i need it for? i didn't even apply.

"right."

"yeah. remember when you applied?" he asks.

no

"yeah, yeah."

"i approved, so now we're in business," he responds.

"you didn't tell me anything. what's up with that? you keeping secrets from me now?" may accuses.

i didn't even know

"why, i just, i just, i just know how much you love surprises, so i thought i would let you know . . . wh . . . anyway, what did i apply for?" i ask very confused.

"that's what i'm here to hash out," he states.

"okay. hash out, hash out. got it," i reply.

"it's so hard for me to believe that she's someone's aunt," mr stark says pointing at may.

"yeah, well, we come in all shapes and sizes, you know?" she says flirtatiously.

i furrow my eyebrows at her reply.

"this walnut date loaf is exceptional," mr stark states.

"let me just stop you there," i say.

"yeah?"

"is this grant, like, got money involved or whatever? no?" i ask.

"yeah."

"yeah?" i ask smiling.

"it's pretty well funded," tony says.

"wow," i smile.

"look who you're talking to," tony says, "can i have 5 minutes with him?"

"sure," may responds.

i lead tony to my bedroom and lay my box of computer parts on my desk.

tony spits out the bread in my trash can.

"as walnut date loaves go, that wasn't bad," he says, wafting to my desk, "whoa, what do we have here? retro tech, huh? thrift store? salvation army?"

"uh, the garbage, actually," i reply.

"you're a dumpster diver," he says shaking his head.

"yeah, i was. anyway, look, um, i definitely did not apply for your grant," i tell him.

"ah-ah! me first," he says.

"okay?"

"quick question of the rhetorical variety," he pulls out his phone from his pocket and the screen hovers over it, "that's you, right?"

fuck.

"um, no. what do you. what do you mean?" i ask, leaning back on my wall and crossing my arms over my chest.

the screen shows me/spiderman catching a car from crashing completely into a bus. my shoulder still hurts honestly.

"yeah, look at you go. wow! nice catch. three-thousand pounds, forty miles an hour. that's not easy. you got mad skills," he complements.