I need to get a new chemistry partner.
He's too distracting.
Whoever decided we should be partners is the bane of my existence. Oh that's right, it was us. I know for a fact that I wasn't thinking clearly when this arrangement was happening,
We're down to the last five minutes of the lesson and I am determined that he's doing it on purpose. Distracting me, that is.
Peter Parker is staring at my side profile as I stare determinedly ahead, trying to pay attention to what our teacher is telling us about Infrared spect- something, they could be talking about dancing unicorns and rainbows for all I'm paying attention.
I tilt my head to the side and readjust my safety goggles trying and failing to see at an angle where he is not, but no he's right in my proverbial vision and his grin has grown, crinkling the skin around his brown eyes.
I deftly give him the finger while Ms. Gabriel is pointing at the interactive board but Peter grabs my hand, drawing it to his lap, turning my palm face upwards. I look out of the corner of my eye so as not to give him the satisfaction of having captured my attention. He produces a pen and starts marking my hand.
I smile. I love it when he writes on my hands. They're usually just silly doodles of webs (ironic, I know) or comic speech bubbles with words like "WHOA!" within them. This may seem weird, but I've taken photos of every single one, so my camera roll is essentially a compilation of his drawings.
The obnoxiously loud bell rings, punctuated by the sound of chairs squeaking and bags being zipped up fills the room.
Sliding my backpack on I pull the hem of my dark blue skirt down and leave the chemistry lab with Peter at my hip. He finds my hand and laces his fingers with mine as we walk down the bright green linoleum floors in the sweat-smelling hallway.
I don't even attempt to be annoyed at him for distracting me, holding grudges is not my strong suit nor do I see the point in them, all they accomplish is the wasting of time.
Once we reach the school doors, entering the world of humid air, but fresh from the claustrophobic enclosure of the hallway, we walk across the car park in silence.
"Mine tonight?" Peter asks once we stand outside the school gates.
"Hmm." I look up at the sky in pretend contemplation before looking Peter in the eyes. I nod and he gives me a crooked smile, the one where one side of his mouth goes up before the other.
He stands in front of me, I have my back to the iron-black gates, encasing the red brick school building like its some kind of fortress, and a lock of brown hair falls on his forehead. I reach out to push it up onto his head and he leans forward, giving me a small peck on the lips.
"What time should I come over?" I ask.
"Seven," he says, playing with my hair. "May is cooking up spaghetti with tomato sauce."
I sigh in appreciation. May is a brilliant cook, I feel like I salivate in the kitchen whenever I go to Peter's. Gross, I know, but you haven't smelled or tasted her wonderful culinary creations.
Peter laughs in response to my sigh.
Dimples.
_
I walk up the steps of Peter's house, hands stuffed in the pockets of my grey coat. Not long after I knock on the door does Aunt May immediately enfold me in a warm hug and pulls me inside shutting the door behind me.
Plates have already been set out and soon all three of us are sitting at the table eating the best tomato spaghetti that I have ever had in my entire life.
