POISON WEBS ↴ PETER PARKER

⇢ 25 | TOURIST TRAP

Y/N 🍪

_

PETER'S HIDING SOMETHING, and I'm going to figure it out.

After he picked me up at the Tower, we found ourselves on a train into the center of New York. Rush hour was unkind; our bodies practically pressed against the doorway inside the crowded car, and eyes constantly checking to see if someone was trying to pick-pocket me. It was hard to stay in control of my senses when there were so....many.

Peter was in front of me, one hand on the wall behind me for balance, and the other on my shoulder to keep me from crashing into someone else. It had already happened a few stops back. Embarrassing. Being so close to him felt alarming—and sure, it wasn't anything new—but with the information I now possessed, I felt like I was huddled up with a stranger.

Tony's kind-of-like Peter's dad, Scott had said.

I was there when they first met each other. At least, that's when I thought they met each other. Peter introduced himself like I did, and Mr. Stark acted like he didn't know him. Not to mention, Peter had never left my side at the tower.

So how did he and Tony get so close?

I'm a scientist, not a psychic—but I know when someone's lying to me.

"Hey, you okay?" Peter's voice snapped me out of my trance, and I noticed he was staring down at me with a strange intensity.

I glanced out the window. "Yeah."

"You were zoning out for a second."

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

Who you really are, Parker. "Nothing."

In my hand were the flowers he'd bought me—a bouquet of pink lilies that smelled as nice as they looked—but they didn't settle my uneasiness. In fact, they made it worse.

The train came to a screeching stop, and the sea of people began stumbling over inside the train car. I almost rammed into the wall behind me, but Peter wrapped an arm around my back, pulling me into his chest.

"Nice reflexes," I said pointedly.

He laughed, and I felt it echo in his chest. He had a faint scent of...polyurethane? I wrinkled my nose in denial. Polyurethane was a chemical that, when burned, gave off a slightly bitter smell. I'd smelled it somewhere before. Polyurethane was commonly found in spandex. Why would Peter be wearing spandex?

These thoughts plagued my mind, even as we pulled into our stop at 42 St-Bryant Park Station. Grabbing my hand, Peter led me off the train and up the stairs.

New York City was bustling with strangers, phones up in arms, and blinding lights plastered onto buildings. Times Square was at peak urbanization. It was digital, distracting, and filled with people. But even with the deafening chatter coming from the crowd, I could only focus on the boy in front of me.

He still hadn't let go of my hand, but his grip was tight. I could feel my joints shifting underneath my skin.

"Peter!" I yelled above the crowd.

He turned to look at me, but kept moving through the crowd. "Yeah?"

"Where are we going?"

"Everywhere!"

Strange, really, how he was able to run backwards through a sea of people, but manage to swerve out of the way every time. It was almost as if he had eyes in the back of his head. As if he could sense every slight movement.