Spider-Man Imagines I

Not That Girl (Part Five) | Peter Parker [TH]

"Can I walk you home?" Peter asked.

Ever since the apology, he had been following you home like a loyal dog. He was muttering apologies every few minutes, although you begged him to stop because you'd already forgiven him.

Still, it was tense around Peter. You still liked him a lot and he still didn't like you. And as you looked at him, you could see that he sensed your uncertainty.

"We don't have to talk," he said, "not about any of it." He smiled a closed lips smile and nodded, tucking his notebooks under his arm. "It's just... let me walk you home, ___. I wanna make things normal again."

You doubted things could ever be normal again. Sure, he was your friend again and sure, you had forgiven him, but you were still you, the girl that didn't get the boy and he was still Peter, perfect and cute and the boy you wished you could get.

You looked at him and your heart still hurt.

"Uh, sure," you mumbled.

His eyes lit up. "I can walk you home?" he asked.

You smiled and nodded.

"Okay, awesome!" He grinned. "So, I need to tell you about something Ned did in Chemistry..."

...

After school, Peter walked you out of the building. Ned was climbing in his mom's car, shouting goodbye over her impatient honking. He had seemed relieved by you and Peter making up and even apologized a dozen times and bought you a candy bar from the vending machine to make up for it.

As you ate the candy bar, Peter talked to you about Spider-Man, who he was still obsessed with being, even when he had been him for over a year now. You nodded and laughed, feeling halfway normal for a while.

And then a honk sounded behind you and you turned your head. A silver car slowed down as it drove by the curb. Flash Thompson sat inside, his girlfriend and homecoming date practically on hi lap.

"Sup, Parker!" he exclaimed, and then honked the horn and held it down before speeding off.

His girlfriend turned around and waved, even though she probably didn't know either of you.

"Wow," you muttered, shaking your head. You felt Peter looking at you, and when you caught his eye, he looked away. You were starting to ask him what was wrong when he jerked his thumb to the right, where a café was.

"Hey," he said, "let's stop and get some coffees."

Your face fell. He was pitying you again.

Pitying you for not having a date to homecoming.

Pitying you for wanting one and not getting one.

Pitying you for liking him and he not liking you back.

"No, I'm good," you said, grabbing the straps of your backpack. You lowered your head and walked a little faster.

He caught up easily. "You sure? I'll buy-"

"Honestly, Pete, I'm fine," you said harshly.

His eyebrows pulled together and he frowned.

You sighed. "I'm sorry. Let's... get slushies, okay? There's a corner store at the next block. They have the blue raspberry ones you like."

"You know which slushie I like?" he asked.

You nodded. "You know the coffee I like," you reminded him. You gave him a tight smile and started walking faster again, which was a little ridiculous, since he had no problem with keeping up.

At the corner store, you filled your green and blue plastic cup with Coke slushie. Peter was popping a lid on his giant cup full of blue. He poked a straw through the top and sipped.

"Yum," he said, pulling the straw back. He wiped blue off his lips with the back of his hand. Grimacing at that, you grabbed a few napkins and handed them to him. "Thanks," he laughed, dabbing his mouth.

You added some cherry slush to the top of your Coke. Peter pointed to it.

"Really?"

"It's good," you argued, putting a lid on. You grabbed a straw and put it in. "Like a cherry coke." You sipped it, then moved the straw around to break some of the ice.

He cocked his head to the side, thinking how cute that was. Quickly, he shook himself out of it.

"I'll take your word for it," Peter said, grinning. "C'mon, I'll pay."

You stared at the counter for a moment. Letting go of your straw, you took another drink. "You're still pitying me," you blurted.

"What?"

"You feel bad for me," you specified.

He scoffed. "___, why would I feel bad for you?"

"You've been looking at me differently since I mentioned not being the kind of girl to get asked out," you said. You looked at him with a hard expression. "I want to know what happened to you just being my friend."

"Are you serious?" He clenched his jaw. "Yeah, I feel bad for you! It sucks to feel like no one will ever like you like that! And you know, I stopped being just your friend once you started having a crush on me!"

You stared at him in disbelief. Cheeks red, you thrust your cup into his chest. He caught it, looking suddenly surprised. You jerked your hand from him and looked away.

"Fine then," you said.

"___," he said, turning around as you walked to the exit. "___!" You walked out, the bell chiming.

He cursed under his breath and ran to the counter to pay. Although the total was four dollars and thirty cents, he tossed a five on the counter and hurried off.

"Keep the change!" he said.

He pushed through the door, hands holding both slushies. He looked both ways, trying to find out where you went. He stretched up on his tiptoes until he saw you heading towards the right, several feet away.

And you turned to the left suddenly, cutting through an alley that was dangerous at any time of the day.

"___!" he shouted.

He broke out into a run after you. You were already in the alley when he'd started to move. With worry in his gut, he pushed against the crowd of people walking on the sidewalk to get to you. Maybe it was his paranoia, but his spidey senses were going off.

He got to the alley and turned into it. At first, he didn't see anything but trash cans and dumpsters and cardboard boxes, but then he heard a few voices. Mostly gruff, deep voiced, unfamiliar ones, but there was another that stood out.

"Hey, let me go!" you exclaimed.

"Shut up, girl!"

The slushies slipped from his hands as he saw you against the wall, two men holding you down while a third went through your bag. You kicked one of them, bringing him almost to his knees.

"I said let me go!"

And then there was a knife to your throat.