Peter Parker Fan Fiction

Summer Love

Your face was hot, flushed full of color as Flash shouted out behind you, his jokes about you finally having gone too far. You'd changed over the summer, your body having curves in new places, grown two inches, hair healthier than it had ever been, and you'd felt good. You felt confident, and radiant and you started the year hoping that maybe this would be the year that everything finally changed, that everything finally went your way.

But no, from day one Flash had decided you would be his target this year, that there was nothing you could do, no way you could dress, or do your makeup, that he wouldn't call out about during class, that he wouldn't make vulgar comments about the way you looked. And god, how you hated it.

You hated how it made you feel, how it made you revert back to being so uncomfortable in your skin. It was a new form of uncomfortable, familiar but new and just as wrong.

To make matters worse, there was a boy watching you. A boy with soft brown eyes and toffee colored curls that had been your crush since you started at Midtown. He was shy, nerdy, someone who knew every answer to every question the teachers asked him, who always quirked his lips up to the left when he smiled nervously. He'd stare at you before, and you'd stare at him, but always from afar, neither one knowing it until, suddenly you did.

Of course, now when he looked at you, you could feel it, like his eyes were burning into the back of your head. His beautiful, deep chocolate eyes, rimmed red now.

"You know, I miss the days when we could be out in Central Park at noon because we didn't have responsibilities."

You were laying in the grass, a lazy group of clouds drifting across the sky, the heat of a New Yorks summer day, your favorite summer dress hugging your curves lightly, sunglasses resting on the bridge of your nose, skin tanned from the heat wave. He was next to you, his brown curls moving softly in the subtle wind, his eyes staring up at the sun, like yours, but flicking over to you every so often.

"That's what we're doing now," he said soft, pulling his old battered camera from his just as battered backpack. He sat up and you rolled to your stomach, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You know what I mean," you say, watching as he twisted the knobs around. Holding the camera to his eye he nodded, shrugging slightly.

"Smile."

The picture from that day rested in your locker, and you ran a finger over it, the pads of your fingers seeming to really reach out and touch the grass, trying to take you back to that day. You slammed the locker shut, pushing the memory, pushing him to the back of your mind.

Tried to, anyways.

His curls seemed to be everywhere around you that day, like he was always by your side in the halls, like he hadn't ever left your side, like it was summer all over again and he wanted you as much as you wanted him. He was haunting you, haunting your memory, your present, and you couldn't stand it anymore. You couldn't stand being here where he was, when he wasn't with you.

You told yourself you were leaving because of what Flash had said, because of the over the top bullying that came every day. But deep down, you knew there was a stronger reason, knew that the boy with the toffee curls was the real reason you were leaving.

You left early, hating that this was the third day in a row that you left school because of Flash, because of him. Head ducked down, eyes locked on your feet, you couldn't help but let your mind wander as you made your way home, feet tracing the familiar path he would walk with you.

Why did he have to be everywhere and nowhere all at once? How is is he could just come in, take over your entire world and then leave without another thought? But had it really been him to leave?