The Masks we Hide Behind || Peter Parker [1]

thirty-eight: dancin' with myself

I've been at Peter's for at least a half hour or so now, and I take every distraction's advantage that comes my way. Whether it's a text "from my mom", or "I need to pee", I exit his bedroom and stand in the hallway, pacing back and forth and chewing on my nails.

I don't know what's going on. Everything is so awkward. It's like there's this huge wall in between us, even as we're sitting side by side, our arms touching. Studying with Peter is usually so fun, and usually I look forward to it. This evening, it's silent, and awkward. We actually get work done.

"But, wouldn't you just multiply it by its reciprocal?" I ask softly, pointing with my eraser to my messy, scribbled work on the side of my paper.

"No, you would flip the fraction - "

"Peter, that's the reciprocal." I chuckle softly.

"Oh, right. Sorry." He mutters. "Yeah, yeah, you would."

It's silent for another good five minutes or so.

"Wanna play music?" I offer.

"Sure, it's up to you." Peter mutters, focuses intently on his work.

"Spice things up a bit? We could dance. Play the Black Eyed Peas." I add, resting my head against the side of his mattress. We're sitting on his floor, our backs up against the base of his bed. I feel Peter shrug and glance at him from the side.

"Sure."

"Okay, then," I mutter, standing up and traveling to the side of my room to unplug my phone. My phone hovers over the screen, and just as I'm about to press shuffle, Peter speaks up.

"Do you remember in fifth grade, when we would all walk to the convenience store together?"

"Yeah," I chuckle. "and we'd get a bunch of Arizona's, then walk to the park."

"...and listen to the Black Eyed Peas." Peter murmurs softly.

"Those were the days," I sigh, scrolling through my seemingly endless amount of playlists.

"Everything was so much easier." He adds.

"Yeah, tell me about it." I mutter. I smile once I open the playlist Peter and I made awhile ago, titled Good Times. I scroll through the selection and play Dancing with Myself, by Billy Idol. I plug my phone into Peter's speaker, and the music comes blasting out.

For a couple seconds the opening is just the sound of drums, but when the guitars chime in, Peter looks up at me with a grin.

"Is this..?" Peter chuckles, pushing his binder to the side. I skip forward and reach for his hands, pulling him onto his feet.

"It's our song!" I laugh, beginning to dance like a complete idiot. Peter laughs as the lyrics start.

On the floors of Tokyo, oh
Or down in London Town to go, oh
With the record selection and the mirror's reflection

"I'm 'a dancin' with myseh-elf!" I shout along to the lyrics as Peter cackles along.

Oh, when there's no one else in sight
I'm the crowded, lonely night
Well, I wait so long for my love vibration
And I'm dancin' with myseh-elf -

"Oh, oh, oh!" Peter sings along and finally joins in, releasing my hands and hopping onto his bed, his head nearly hitting the ceiling as he stands. I reach for the empty water bottle lying next to his feet and toss it up to him, and he catches it and uses it as a microphone.