Night Changes (p.parker)

CHAPTER ELEVEN: FIRE ESCAPES ARE THE MOST ROMANTIC

LUNCH WAS POSSIBLY the best time of day for most students. They were able to relax, sit and chat with friends, and best of all, eat. Whatever food they had managed to snag, whether it be from home or their very own Midtown High Cafeteria.

And yet here you were, gloves on, leg bouncing, and no appetite.

You were nervous. Extremely nervous, if it wasn't already obvious to everyone around you. Your teeth grazed your bottom lip far too often, causing it to swell slightly and flush from the pressure.

You were nervous for one very specific reason.

He was here. In the same room. Coming and going from the same classes you were, complaining about the same tests that you had. So you assumed.

And yet you didn't know where he was. Who he was with, what he was eating, or even if he could see you. Was he looking at you? Now that both of you were aware that you attended the same school, nowhere in the building was safe.

If he was looking at you, did he like what he saw? Or maybe he didn't even eat lunch in the cafeteria. It wasn't uncommon for students to retreat to the computer lab, or study in the library. Nevertheless, the possibility still remained.

He could see you, and you couldn't see him.

It was positively nerve-wracking.

"What's up with you?" Simon inquired after throwing one of his Doritos at you. "You keep looking around here like 17 people are about to take you out back and beat you 'till you're black and blue."

"Simon!" Alcott hissed, swatting him with her arm. Her green converse skidded on the floor as she turned to you, shooting you an apologetic look for Simon's comment.

You slightly snickered at his words, hoping if you were to laugh a little it would take some tension from your shoulders. It didn't.

"I'm.. slightly distracted," You mumbled, wondering if you really were going to tell them about the information you had found out.

"Distracted? By what?"

"I um-" You started, rubbing your hand against your hidden tattoo for comfort. You wondered if he could feel that, "he goes to Midtown."

Alcott's eyes practically jumped out of their sockets and Simon silently choked on the sip of water he had just taken. His face turned red from lack of oxygen as her jaw dropped, eyebrows furrowing and imagination running wild.

"Like- He, him? Spider in tights?"

Simon's hushed whisper rang throughout the small space between the three of you, disbelief embedded in both of their features, their food long forgotten, pushed to the side, beginning to get cold.

You gave both of them a curt nod, not yet trusting your voice as you scanned the room in search of a face you didn't know.

"Yeah, him. He's here, and I have no idea where,"

...

On the other side of the cafeteria, Peter Parker was having the hardest time peeling his eyes away from your figure. He noticed that your eyes kept darting around the room, and he could only hope you were searching for him.

He was positively enchanted by you. The way you constantly bit your lip, or how you laughed when one of your friends told a joke. He had to admit, whoever was sitting beside you was the luckiest person he had ever seen. He felt a pathetic bubble of envy brew in his stomach as pushed your meal away from yourself.

Every once in a while he would look away, afraid he'd meet your gaze or catch your attention. He also had to pretend he was engaged in the conversation that was freely flowing between Ned and MJ. He'd slowly register a fact being said, or an opinion being shared, but for the most part, all of his attention was focused on you.