The Tangled Web | Peter Parker

Chapter 14

A few days had passed since my interaction with Spider-Man. I opted to write an article about our conversation, even quoting him to give the public his perspective on what he thought he was doing. Jameson was absolutely livid that I was "giving this menace to society a platform to speak" but published the article regardless.

He would never openly admit it, but I knew he felt like he made a good decision by moving forward with the publication. Our phones hadn't stopped ringing ever since he ran the story. We were receiving more mail and opinion submissions than ever before. Everyone seemed to have a take on Spider-Man. Some adored the vigilante while others thought he was inviting chaos into our streets, saying his existence welcomed opposition.

I'll admit, my opinion of the web-slinging masked man changed after our interaction the other night. Talking to him helped me realize that he's a real person, not just some random whisper in the wind. He's real. And he's actually helping. Whoever he is.

Spider-Man had responded to a few crimes around town since our first conversation. He stopped by The Bugle after the article was published that properly named him to say thank you. This time, instead of stopping to talk to me on the street, he chose to walk with me for a few blocks, escorting me part of the way home. It seemed that our nightly run-ins were becoming routine.

While my new friendship with Spider-Man was blossoming, my established relationship with Peter was slowly fading. He had been abnormally distant since our last interaction after school with Flash and Gwen. We seemed to be speaking to one another less and less.

I still had my suspicions about his exact whereabouts every night that he snuck out. I even considered approaching him about it but decided it was best to let things play out. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's observing the behaviors of others. And, also, I wasn't totally convinced that he was running around the city in tights. But never say never.

This morning, I was carefully watching Peter as he made breakfast. His back was turned to me, so I was unable to see his face. He was using a butter knife to spread jam on his toast.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping my coffee. My eyes narrowed as I examined his every move, staring intently at the muscles on his back, watching how they stretched when his arms moved. The shirts he had been wearing lately were baggy, which made it difficult to determine the exact definition of muscle. My eyes trailed over his triceps, trying to submit them to memory so I could compare them to another's later.

He lifted his head as if he could feel my eyes on him. "Why are you staring at me?" he asked.

"No reason," I shrugged, lifting my mug to my lips. "I just never noticed how muscular you are."

"Okay?" he laughed awkwardly, turning his head to look at me over his shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I stated, sipping my coffee while I stared at him skeptically.

He turned his attention back to his toast, shaking his head. "You're so weird sometimes," he scoffed, smiling as he continued to shake his head.

I watched the movement of his head, observing the way it turned from side to side. I couldn't help but notice that the motion was similar to someone else I knew. A certain masked hero? I tried to push the thought from my head, knowing that when I believe something to be true, my brain starts to actively search for ways to prove itself right.

I wasn't a hundred percent sure that Peter and Spider-Man were the same person, but I still couldn't help but notice similarities between the two. Maybe they are both just awkward, lanky people who ramble when they get nervous.