Peter looks up at me, searching my eyes for what, I don't know, and then he says, "You don't need to be embarrassed."
I shrug my shoulders. "I feel like an imbecile. I mean, party? Me? I don't do those kind of things."
Peter smiles a bit and I curl my fingers around his wrist, pulling him up to sit beside me.
"Yeah, you know I thought you may have been drugged when you said that." He teases, shifting us up the bed.
He lifts up an arm as an invitation, which I gladly accept. Scooting over, I rest my head on the top corner of his chest and place my hand flat against where I feel his heart beating. I sigh when Peter wraps an arm around my waist and I can't help but smile. This is perfect. Lying here beside him, correction: basically on top of him, I also have a leg stretched over his. His heart beats a steady rhythm, thud thud thud. It's my new favourite sound other than his husky laugh that has burned itself into my mind. I think back over yesterday, how I felt in the morning, during the day and after school...something feels off about it. I thought you may have been drugged, I recall what Peter said. I know he was joking but those-those words have unfurled a feeling of unease in my stomach. A shiver flecks its fingers along my spine, and catwalks down it at a high speed, which has Peter drawing me closer to him. I wiggle a bit and try to brush those previous thoughts from my mind.
We lay like this for hours on hours, sometimes talking and other times in silence, chasing thoughts around in our heads, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain against the stairs and in my case right now...listening to the sound of Peter's heartbeat and letting it calm me down, giving it the power to lull me to a faraway place; where Peter isn't Spider-Man and where we don't live in a corrupt world. I have often dreamed about another place that I can't quite see with fuzzy clouds and limitless time, because it is a dream and a dream is shaped out of your own thoughts and feelings.
We have returned to silence and I feel warm everywhere our skin touches it is like an electric current igniting our skin. Peter's leg loops around mine so we are tangled together like a group of vines. Peter traces light circles on the inside of my wrist, the brief contact is driving me crazy as warm sensations shoot up my arm. I'm breathless. As his fingers slow down their routine, I shift a bit and the sensations become too much, my skin is reacting and the nerve fibres are yelling.
"Stop." I gasp.
I can practically hear the grin in his voice. "Never.
My eyes widen as I try to sit up but no Peter has me caught in a vice-like grip. Then I burst into laughter as his fingers find my weakness...my waist and my thighs. He pinches and I can't get out a breath. I can't breathe.
"Pete-," I gasp again and continue my attempt at getting out of his grasp. I wiggle against him and grab him by the shoulder before pressing down firmly and hitting my butt against his chest. Peter's grip on my legs loosens. Aha! My legs slot between his, my arms now pressing down on both of his shoulders, I look him dead in the eyes with what I hope is a serious look. His hands are now plant firmly on my waist, which could be problemental considering what they were doing before.
"Not. Funny." I say flatly, sparking a smile from Peter. Of course.
I snuggle up onto his chest. And when I say onto I mean literally on top of him. I curl my legs up tucking my head into the crook of his neck and inhale his scent. Lemons, Mint and Earth. I whisper to him that he smells nice and a husky laugh erupts from him, shaking his chest as well. As night really takes over, the moon rays flitting through the gap above my curtains, our talking decreases and Peter's breathing becomes laboured. I flick my eyes up to his and he's fast asleep. I close my eyes and fall into the darkness with his heartbeat sound in my ears.
Crinkling...
Foil?
My eyes squint open and I feel dampness by my cheek. Turning my head I look down upon a spot of saliva. Nice. I drool in my sleep. I shake my head. Right the crinkling.
My eyes adjust to the light and I discover where the crinkling sound came from. There is a piece of white paper on the pillow beside be and it is then when I notice...no Peter.
Unfolding the paper, I push myself up into a sitting position and read Peter's messy handwriting,
Gwen,
I had to take care of the pineapple. Will see you later? 7? Cool.
-PETER PARKER
"Pineapple" being codename for Spider-Man business. I can't help the rush of disappointment that rests in my stomach. Stop being so selfish, Gwen. But is it selfish, wanting to wake up next to my boyfriend?
As the day wears on I change into a pair of Batman pyjamas and make breakfast for the family, pancakes and fruit: my specialty. My brothers bound into the kitchen practically shoving me out the way to claim their food.
"Hey! HEY!" I exclaim, shooing them to the table. "Hands off."
I make them set up the table before I lay out the plate piled high with small, thick pancakes, the bowl of fruit and the several cartons of orange juice and milk.
Once all three of us have tucked into our pancakes and Erik, my youngest brother, has decorated his face with a maple syrup moustache meanwhile Dylan, my other younger brother, slightly older than Erik, his rolling his eyes at him. Mum walks in with a smile on her face, humming.
"Good Morning, Kids." She sing-songs, sitting down beside Dylan. We all reply in different variations of greeting.
"So, Gwen." Mum starts, brushing a strand of curly blond hair behind her ear.
"So, Mum..." I reply, looking up to find her searching my face.
"Is there any chance that there was a boy in our house last night?" She asks, her expression completely innocent. Crap.
Erik with his mouth full of banana and pancake butts in, "Oooooo was it Peeeteerrr?"
I give him a glare, which he greets with a grin and Mum tells him off for speaking with food in his mouth.
"Um, well....I, er," Wow Gwen, you know your words well. "I wasn't feeling well yesterday so he was just making sure that I, er, slept well?" my voice goes high at the end and I mentally slap myself.
"So he stayed the night?" Mum inquires, still. Looking. At. Me.
I know my cheeks are red and I know my neck is flushed. "He wasn't here this morning."
"That is not what I asked," Mum raises her eyebrows. "Did Peter sleep over?"
Can the floor just open up and swallow me whole? I tap the floor, c'mon help a girl out. No?
"Maaaybe."
Erik and Dylan silently laugh and I want to hit them so bad.
"I would like to be informed next time a boy sleeps over here, okay?" she asks, voice soft but firm. "And you boys, the say goes to you. Ask when you want a girl to stay over."
We finish up breakfast, all of us helping to clean up before I crack on with my biology homework, which I speed through due to the wonderful pancakes that I can still taste on my tongue. Once my homework is all done to the best standard I sign into my blog and update it, adding two reviews of books that I have recently read. I write a post about the last episode of Game of Thrones, expressing my wild emotions and fears for the next two episodes.
The clock sticks eight when Peter turns up, windblown hair and holes in his jeans.
"Miss me?"
"Hmm?" I ask, pretending to be engulfed by the words on my laptop screen.
"HOT CHOCOLATE!" Peter bellows.
My natural instinct has me turning around, my butt on the edge of the chair. No hot chocolate.
I narrow my eyes. "You. Lie."
