Spring Break Fever

Chapter 7: Jealousy

He's not exactly sure what to do from here. He hadn't even considered the fact that she really was drunk enough to not remember things from last night. But he feels bad now, and he doesn't want to bring up the kiss or the intimate conversation, because he doesn't want to make her feel awkward about it. So he just decides to leave it alone and let her stay in the dark. It'll at least make one of them feel better about it.

"Why are you acting weird?" she asks, looking at him curiously. He tries not to focus on her furrowed eyebrows, or the curly hair she's now pulling back into a scrunchie, and he definitely forces himself not to think of the way she kissed him last night.

"I'm not acting weird," he laughs, shaking his head. "I just feel bad about the fight yesterday and everything. I'm just...sorry."

"Um," she breathes out, the topic apparently still touchy. It's weird seeing her joking and laughing now, pretending everything's okay when he now knows that it's not. But she doesn't know he knows. "It's...okay. Let's just not talk about it."

"Yeah, okay," he nods, watching her get up out of bed and dig some Aspirin from her suitcase. He feels weird knowing all of those personal details about her now that she doesn't even know he knows. It feels wrong—especially since she's so private about all of that stuff.

"Looks like the sun's out again unfortunately," MJ groans, covering her eyes from the blinding light coming through the window. "Remind me to never drink again, okay?"

"I always do, but you never listen," he laughs, yawning and lying back down against his pillow, tucking his arm beneath it. He thinks about how that same arm was wrapped around MJ last night, this morning, and she's the one who pulled it over herself, wanting it there.

"After feeling this awful today...I think I just might actually have to listen next time," she shakes her head, falling back into bed next to him after downing the rest of her water bottle.

She closes her eyes and sighs, snuggling into her pillow again comfortably. He watches her, unable to fight the tiny smile that's on his lips.

"God, I want to go back to sleep but it's stupidly bright in here, and my mouth is so dry that my tongue feels like sandpaper, and my head feels like an elephant just stomped on it." she whines, before she pulls her pillow up and over her head, then groans into their sheet. "And god, did I throw up last night? I still have that burning barf sensation in the back of my throat."

"Yeah, you did," he answers, knowing he should probably reply with a quip or a jab, but he doesn't. "You got pretty sick."

"How awesome," she replies, her voice still muffled from the blankets and pillows and sheets.

"If...if it'll make you feel better, I can shut the blinds and get you some more water and rub your head if you want," he mutters out, already regretting it as soon as he opened his mouth. "I've gotten some practice in since May has migraines sometimes."

MJ's silent and completely still under the blankets, and Peter feels like the biggest idiot of all time. He can't even understand what's going on with himself right now; the only thing he knows is that something about last night changed the way he views her. And as much as he hates it, he's pretty sure it's guilt and pity.

"Are you just being nice to me because you feel bad about our fight?" she pulls her head up, staring at him. This is actually better than what he thought was going to happen, which was MJ accusing him of being nervous because of his attraction to her. "Actually, the reasoning doesn't even really matter; I'll take you up on that offer if it means a free head rub."

He thinks about at the spa when she told him about her discomfort in being touched, and his heart warms when he realizes, for sure now, that he is an exception to that rule.