Dreams do come true -Peter Parker-

Chapter 2

The beeping of her alarm clock quickly awoke Phoebe from her sleep. Getting up at 6:00 every morning was finally wearing on her. Sitting up on her bed, she hit the glowing snooze button, instantly shutting it off. She had all of the day planned out. First, she would go get some photos at the farmers market. Then, well, she didn't get that far.

Pulling herself out of the comfort of her bed, she slipped her robe on and went to her kitchen. The coffee pot sat there ready to go, all she had to do was make her breakfast. Quietly opening the fridge, not wanting to wake any of her neighbors through the thin walls, she grabbed a microwaveable breakfast Burrito.

Plopping down on the couch, she grabbed the remote, and flipped on the daily news. She started to watch, and without knowing grabbed her steaming hot coffee by the outside. Pain seared into her hand, burning with rage.

She let out a quick yelp, and jerked her hand off the mug... in mid air. Hot coffee poured down her arm and hand, dripping into her lap, slightly cooler. She jumped up, rushing over to the sink, but coming to the realization that her water was turned off for the day.

Mentally smacking herself, she blinked back tears, grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. Letting the water drop over her arm, she stood staring in disbelief at how much damage coffee could do. Red burn marks, that weren't going away any time soon, covered her arm and hand.

She looked at her watch, and ran to grab her camera bag. She was late on her photography day. Locking the door, she made her way to the market. Since it was only a few blocks down, she decided to walk there.

The gleam of water droplets in the sunlight, the smell of trees, those soothed her. Even with the burn marks, she was calm. Her camera hung loosely around her neck, swaying with each step. She smiled happily at anyone who walked by.

She probably looked high or something, but she didn't care. Her day so far had been a cruddy mess.

She took hold of her camera as she approached, getting angle from the sunlight to picture the sign. Many people were there just walking, or buying something. Glistening apples lined the walkways, begging for attention. She quickly snapped a few photos, then walked off to stop blocking the exit.

Her gaze drifted over the many stands lining the aisle. Little plums and other items scattered the ground, some smashed and some not. With a huge breath, she closed her eyes. "Please let me meet someone I can be friends with." She said that everyday, wishing to meet someone. Today was that day.

She found the perfect picture location, and decided to take advantage of it. Grabbing her camera, she stepped back ready to take the photo. Boy, she wished she watched where she had stepped. A large juicy plum crushed under her feet, splashing everywhere.

She began to fall, journals spilling out of her bag. Squeezing her eyes shut, she clutched her camera to her chest, not wanting it to get damaged. A breeze passed her arm, and went to her waist, sending a chill down her spine. A warm arm, she guessed, quickly wrapped around her waist and pulled her through the air to her feet.

~~~~~

Peter thought he was going to be at the farmers market for a nice little stroll. His plans were changed, a little. Ok maybe a lot. Does stopping what your doing to catch a girl around her waist to stop her from falling sound like a big change.

Peter's arm wrapped around her waist, spinning her up in an effortless manner. Her head was buried into his chest, and a small part of his neck. Her hands were clutching his shirt in her fists. He held her there, just waiting for her to respond. Her bag had slipped off her shoulder, scattering items on the ground. Her breathing slowed, and deep brown eyes looked into his . We stood there for a minute, gazing into each other's eyes. Nobody bothered us; nobody paid attention to use.

Brushing away some stray strips of her hair, he pulled away, bending down to pick her books up. He slid them in her bag and handed it to her. She took it, opened her mouth, and shut it back again. A smile spread across his lips, watching her stand there.

"Hey, you ok?" He stared at her, waiting for a response. She simply nodded trying to form words. "I'm Peter Parker."

"I'm Phoebe Powell." She finally had managed to form words out of her mouth. As he gazed into her eyes, he noticed a new type of emotion flash by. Pain, yet some other emotion he couldn't pinpoint. Was it longing? Love?

She quickly averted her gaze, looking at her watch.

"I really should go, um, school getting ready to start,." She pointed behind her, signaling to the parking lot with a wide variety of cars.

"Oh! Yeah, go ahead." He began scratching the back of his neck in a nervous manner, looking away.

"Thank again." Phoebe quickly waved at Peter watching her walk away.

He sighed happily, continuing to look through the plums and flowers for Aunt May. He decided on some white roses, wanting to get out of there. On his way to the register, he stepped on something off level that caught his attention.

Peter bent to the ground, picking up a damp journal. Just a plain composition notebook. At least, he thought. Opening the first few pages, he became startled by what he saw. Something clicked in his mind, dropping the flowers, he ran as fast as he could to the apartment.