CHAPTER 3: FASHIONABLE LIES

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QUENTIN BECK
Flashback

I sat in the bar and waited for Peter, trying to shove the shame back down my throat.

I can't believe what I'm about to do.

"I'll take another drink," I told the bartender, glancing out the window every few seconds in anticipation of his arrival. What was about to happen was something I thought I really wanted. And it still was, I just desperately wished it was anyone but Peter that had EDITH.

EDITH is a pair of glasses that Tony Stark had designed before he died and then he passed them off to Peter. But they weren't just a regular pair of glasses. He had easy access to killer drones from Stark Industry, easily hack into other technology, manipulate your reality- the mechanics were really indescribable.

And I needed that technology, my whole team had devoted so much time and effort into getting it. But after getting to know Peter and realizing what I was supposed to do to him took away all that excitement and relief.

"Bad night?" the bartender asked and filled my glass with more of the bitter liquid. I nodded in response, downing the whole thing in one go. He raised an eyebrow when I tapped the glass to signal a refill, but did it anyway. He opened his mouth to say something. Probably to ask about the troublesome look on my face, but I was glad when he walked away.

I'm already about to do more lying than I want to tonight.

The bell above the door jingled when Peter walked in. He had on a tight fitted, plain T-shirt and a zip up jacket wrapped around his thin but toned frame. He looked around awkwardly before smiling when our eyes locked and dashed over. I found my own grin matching his at seeing how fast his sad demeanor changed just by seeing me.

"I'm too young to drink," he admitted sheepishly and took the seat next to me at the bar.

"You blipped, didn't you?" I asked him with a mischievous smile, "you're technically twenty one."

He fiddled with his hands nervously. "I feel bad lying."

My heart swelled at how cute he was but then contorted painfully when I realized how ironic the statement was, when I had to do a large amount of lying tonight. To him.

"He'll take a lemonade," I instructed the bartender who nodded and turned around to get it. It was probably hard to find, seeing that no one orders lemonade at a bar.

"I love lemonade!" he grinned like a little kid when I gazed down at him fondly.

He finally got his drink and we both sat in silence for a bit while trying to figure out the right words to say. It wasn't an uncomfortable or awkward silence like you'd expect it to be. Oddly enough, it was a comforting kind of silence.

"Excuse me," a woman picked up something from the floor and handed it to Peter. "Is this yours?"

It was EDITH.

Peter's face paled. "Oh my god," he breathed out in relief, "thank you so much." She nodded and walked out of the bar.

I tried to wipe off the grim look on my face. I felt like the guilt was pouring off of me in waves. His sixth sense couldn't pick that up, could it?

"What are those?" I pretended not to know and put on my best poker face.

"This is EDITH," he told me proudly, "Mr Stark have them to me after he... you know," his happy tone trailed off after his sentence. It was almost as painful as watching a puppy die. You know what, it was worse.

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