Chapter 6
Miles was lying on his bed, one leg draped over the edge, phone hovering over his face. His thumb scrolled in slow, dread-filled motion.
“Bro…” he groaned.
Ganke looked up from his monitor. “She roasted you again, didn’t she?”
Miles turned his phone so Ganke could see the blog post titled ‘Let’s Talk About That Backflip.’ His expression screamed betrayal.
“She made a diagram, Ganke.”
Ganke choked on his orange soda. “Wait—she made a DIAGRAM?!”
“She said my center of gravity was suspicious!”
Ganke wheeled his desk chair over and snatched the phone. He read aloud with increasing glee, “'Bones made of vibranium'—yo, she’s kinda funny though.”
Miles fell back onto his pillow, face half-covered by his hoodie. “She thinks I’m a myth wrapped in lycra.”
“That’s the sexiest insult I’ve ever heard,” Ganke muttered.
“I don’t know whether to be flattered or fake my own death.”
“You’re so dramatic.”
“No, dramatic would be commenting back again.”
“…Wait. Did you?”
Miles pulled the hood further over his face.
“Miles.”
“I said I’ll use both hands next time, okay??”
Ganke doubled over with laughter. “You’re gonna give this poor girl an actual heart attack. She’s gonna pass out in ballet class.”
“She started it!” Miles protested, but his cheeks were pink and his smile was creeping up on him no matter how hard he tried to hide it.
Ganke tossed the phone back onto his chest. “So what’s the plan now? You gonna actually talk to her?”
“I don’t know, man,” Miles mumbled. “I think she’s already in love with the mask. I don’t wanna ruin that.”
Ganke raised a brow. “Pretty sure she’s in love with the guy behind the mask, too. She just doesn’t know it yet.”
Miles looked up at the ceiling.
And smiled.
Gwen pulled her hair into a bun with more force than necessary. She stared at her reflection in the studio mirror and muttered, “I’m not obsessed. I’m observant.”
Her classmate Camila, stretching nearby, raised a brow. “Did you just try to gaslight yourself?”
“No,” Gwen said quickly. Then paused. “Maybe.”
She’d barely slept. Her brain had been stuck in a backflip-loop since 1:04 a.m. Not to mention someone (a totally suspicious commenter named “totallynotspiderman”) had responded to her blog post.
“You dropped your shoulder a little,” Gwen whispered under her breath, mimicking herself in the mirror. “Who says that? I basically negged Spider-Man.”
“Places!” their instructor clapped, and Gwen scrambled into first position.
They moved into pliés, then tendus. Gwen tried to focus, she really did, but her balance was off, her turnout felt uneven, and she kept catching herself checking the mirror like Spider-Man might drop in through the ceiling.
“You good?” Camila asked as they shifted to the barre.
“Yup,” Gwen said, completely unconvincing.
Camila gave her a look. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that blog of yours trending again overnight, right? Because you’re a little…”
She made a flaily, jazz-hands motion.
“Unhinged?” Gwen offered.
“Exactly.”
“I made a physics chart about a man’s calf extension, Cam.”
“You’re in love with him.”
Gwen nearly tripped over her own foot. “I’m not—! Okay. Maybe a little. But that’s normal. I mean, have you seen the way he moves? It’s like he’s dancing, but with acrobatics. And it’s not even just that! He’s kind. He saved me. He—he spoke to me.”
Camila blinked. “And?”
“And I… may have forgotten how to form sentences when he looked at me.”
“Girl.”
“I think I blacked out.”
Their instructor clapped again. “Gwen? Back in center.”
She scrambled into position, heart pounding. This time when she turned, her movements felt different. Lighter. She imagined the twist of Spider-Man’s body midair, how he used momentum like second nature, how he—
“You’re smiling,” Camila whispered.
Gwen didn’t deny it.
She finished the combo with a flourish, spinning perfectly, landing solid.
“Better,” their instructor said.
Maybe thinking about him wasn’t entirely distracting.
Maybe, just maybe, it made her feel like she could fly too.
Gwen collapsed face-first onto her bed, arms stretched out like she was making a snow angel on a crime scene. “I’m never falling in love again. Ever.”
Amaya, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a bowl of cereal and three different textbooks open, didn't even blink. “So… what did Spider-Man do this time?”
“He existed,” Gwen groaned into the pillow. “He existed in front of me. With that voice and that stupid height and that subtle shoulder drop—”
“You are in love,” Amaya said, spooning cereal into her mouth like this was prime-time TV.
“I can’t do this, Ama. I physically cannot function near him. I dropped a full cup of tea in front of my ballet instructor this morning. Like, just—splat. No provocation.”
“Spider-Man wasn’t even there.”
“He was there in spirit.”
Amaya smirked. “So I take it the blog post is coming?”
Gwen peeked out from under her arm. “…Already drafted.”
“Knew it.”
Gwen rolled over and stared at the ceiling. “He said three words to me yesterday. Three. And I’ve been mentally replaying them like a remix.”
Amaya got up and flopped down next to her, sharing the pillow. “Okay, but hear me out—what if he’s, like… just some dorky guy under the mask?”
“I’d still have a breakdown,” Gwen muttered.
“Even if he wears toe socks and cries at Pixar movies?”
Gwen paused. “…Actually, that would make it worse.”
They both laughed, and for a moment, the chaos of masked crusaders and backflips and secret identities melted into soft giggles and hoodie warmth.
Then Amaya said casually, “You know, you also smiled when you got that text from Miles.”
Gwen’s eyes went wide. “No I didn’t.”
“You did. Like a lot.”
“I smile at lots of things. Tea. Socks. Baby goats.”
“Mmhmm. Sure. Just saying—maybe Spider-Man’s not the only person making you a little flaily these days.”
Gwen flopped the pillow dramatically over her face.
Amaya just grinned.
Gwen sat at her desk, papers sprawled out in front of her. The buzz of the city outside was quiet compared to the hum of her brain trying to make sense of the physics problem in front of her.
She had been tutoring Miles on and off for the past few weeks—mainly helping him with concepts he swore he'd gotten but still stumbled over. So, tonight, she’d taken it upon herself to break down the most difficult parts of Newtonian physics. She was really getting into it.
Miles, sitting across from her on the bed, had been quiet for the last few minutes. Too quiet.
“Okay, so now you see how the force of gravity affects the projectile motion, right?” Gwen asked, tapping the textbook with a pen. She had the whole lesson laid out in front of him, a mix of textbook notes and her own hand-drawn diagrams. It was the kind of thing she loved, finding the patterns in physics and explaining them in ways that made sense.
Miles squinted at the page. “Uh, yeah, I think I got it. But I’m just—” He trailed off, glancing at her for a moment. “I’m having trouble understanding how the vertical and horizontal velocities are connected, like how they affect the path.”
Gwen leaned forward, her pen in hand as she tapped at a diagram she’d drawn. “Okay, think of it like this: when you throw something up into the air, the velocity is the same in all directions, right? But the acceleration is only downward because of gravity. So, it’s the vertical velocity that’s affected by gravity, not the horizontal one.”
She looked at him to make sure he was following. Miles nodded but still had that look on his face—the one where he was clearly trying not to overthink it, but still had some questions.
“Alright, try this: you jump off a building—hypothetically!” Gwen added, her eyes sparkling with that infamous, mischievous glint. “Now, imagine you jump straight up, but while you're in the air, you're also being pushed forward by the wind. You’re falling, but you’re still moving forward. That’s the vertical and horizontal components at work.”
Miles raised an eyebrow. “You really like to make it sound dangerous, don’t you?”
“Only when it helps,” Gwen smirked, then gave a small chuckle. “But yeah, the key is that gravity pulls you down, and your horizontal speed stays constant. So even as you fall, you’re still going forward.”
“Got it.” Miles smiled, clearly relieved he wasn’t about to plummet off a building anytime soon.
“Great!” Gwen said, her eyes glancing over the papers again. “I’m pretty sure you’ve got it now. You just have to practice a bit more with the equations.”
Miles stretched, letting out a yawn. “I could use a break. That stuff gets heavy.”
“Only when you try to do it without actually paying attention,” Gwen teased. “C’mon, focus up. You’re supposed to be the student here.”
“I am! I just… need a snack.” He winked, hopping off the bed.
Gwen rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. “If I could, I’d say you’re hopeless. But, somehow, I’m still stuck helping you.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll make it up to you.” Miles grabbed a bag of chips from the shelf, tossing it to her. “For the next lesson.”
Gwen snorted, shaking her head as she opened the bag. “You really know how to get on my good side.”
“I know,” he replied, grinning from ear to ear.
And just like that, the two of them settled into an easy silence, the comfort of the evening stretching around them. Gwen found herself thinking, for just a moment, that maybe—just maybe—she could get used to these tutoring sessions.
Maybe it wasn’t such a bad deal after all.