Chapter 14
The window was cracked open just enough to let in the cool spring air, fluttering the corner of a poster above Gwen’s desk. Soft music played from Amaya’s phone—something indie and dreamy—and the hum of the city buzzed faintly beneath them.
Gwen sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at her laptop screen, which currently displayed a paused news video… of her. Or at least, a blurry side-angle of her getting helped up by him.
“You’re literally on the front page of the Metro Report,” Amaya announced casually from her desk, applying clear lip gloss like this wasn’t a major deal. “And on two different TikToks, which I may or may not have saved.”
Gwen groaned and flopped backwards into her pillows, pulling a blanket over her face. “Please let the earth open up and swallow me.”
“You survived a disaster. And got saved by Spider-Man. It’s basically your superhero origin story,” Amaya said, tossing a popcorn kernel into the air and catching it in her mouth. “Besides, that little moment you two had? Everyone’s obsessed. It's trending.”
“Don’t say that,” Gwen mumbled from beneath the blanket. “That’s mortifying.”
Amaya grinned. “Sure. But you looked like a Disney princess in danger. All dazed and cute.”
Gwen launched a pillow at her, which Amaya dodged expertly.
“You know,” Amaya added, suddenly more thoughtful, “you’ve been glowing lately. Like... weirdly happy. Even before the Spider-Man moment.”
Gwen blinked. “I have not.”
“You have. And I know why.”
Gwen narrowed her eyes. “If you say Spider-Man again, I swear—”
Amaya shook her head, smile spreading. “I was gonna say… the boy who brings you lemon tea.”
Gwen went quiet.
Caught.
Amaya arched an eyebrow. “Ohhh. That’s the face.”
“I don’t have a face.”
“You so have a face.”
“I’m gonna transfer schools.”
“Not before I get invited to the wedding.”
Gwen groaned and hid behind her blanket again, but this time she was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.
Gwen leaned out her dorm window with a towel still wrapped around her damp hair. The city was humming like it always did at night—low and electric. She was just staring aimlessly across the brick wall of the opposite dorm building when a soft glow flickered to life a few windows to the right.
Her eyes widened.
A familiar silhouette leaned back in a desk chair. Headphones. Hoodie. Sketchbook on lap.
Miles?
She blinked. Wait—Miles lived right there? All this time?
Before she could second-guess herself, the figure glanced up. Then double-took. Then squinted. He leaned forward.
Gwen waved.
Miles paused… then gave a half-laugh and waved back, leaning out his own window now.
“You live there?” Gwen called softly.
Miles grinned. “Guess we’re neighbors.”
“You knew?!”
“I found out like five seconds ago!”
“You totally didn’t,” she accused, grinning despite herself.
He shrugged. “Okay, maybe a week ago. Two at most.”
“Miles!”
“In my defense, I thought I was hallucinating,” he said, laughing. “You kinda have that ethereal, too-cool-to-be-real look sometimes.”
Gwen felt her stomach do a dumb swoop. “Okay, now you’re just making stuff up.”
“Maybe,” he said, leaning against the frame of his window. “Or maybe I just have really good taste.”
She rolled her eyes, but her smile was stupid and wide. “So… we can talk like this now?”
Miles nodded. “Window besties.”
“Window besties,” she repeated. “Until one of us falls out.”
He grinned. “I’ll catch you.”
And suddenly, the city didn’t feel so big. Just a little window apart.
Miles Morales was staring at his toothbrush like it had personally betrayed him.
“You what, bro?” Ganke asked through a yawn, still half-buried in his blankets.
“I said… Gwen’s window is like, right there,” Miles said again, mouth full of toothpaste, pointing wildly toward the other building. “Like right there, Ganke. I waved to her. She waved back. We talked.”
Ganke blinked. “Window dating? Bold.”
Miles spat into the sink and groaned. “It wasn’t a date! We just… waved. Talked. There were jokes. And smiling. And she looked really cute with a towel on her head.”
“Sounds like love,” Ganke mumbled dramatically, rolling over.
Miles chucked a towel at him. “Shut up. It’s just… wild. I’ve been Spider-Manning around for months, and the girl I’ve been crushing on? She’s been like ten feet away. With a direct line of sight.”
“You literally swung past her window two days ago. How did you not notice?”
“I was trying not to die, Ganke! I wasn’t window shopping!”
Ganke snorted.
Miles leaned against the edge of his desk, looking out at the city again. Gwen’s window was dark now, but he could still see her fairy lights strung up like a constellation. Just knowing she was that close made everything feel… warm. And weird. And a little terrifying.
“She waved, man,” Miles muttered, mostly to himself. “Like, the kind of wave where you hope they don’t stop.”
Ganke peeked up from under his blanket cocoon. “Are you still talking about what the girl did… or are you just in-love babbling?”
Miles paused.
“…Both?”
Gwen balanced her lunch tray on one hand and squinted across the courtyard. It was warm out, the kind of lazy warmth that made the stone benches just tolerable enough to sit on. She spotted Miles under one of the bigger trees, sketchbook open on his knee, his earbuds in.
She walked over slowly, toeing a pebble as she went. He looked so focused—eyebrows scrunched, pencil moving in smooth, practiced strokes.
She hated how much she liked that about him.
“Hey, Lemon Tea Guy,” she called casually.
Miles looked up, surprised, then grinned when he saw her.
“Hey, Spider-Chronicles.”
Gwen plopped down beside him, setting her tray on the grass. “Still not over the fact you live practically next door.”
“I’ve got a pretty great view,” Miles said, then immediately looked like he regretted it.
Gwen raised an eyebrow, trying not to smile too wide. “Oh yeah?”
He cleared his throat. “You know, architecturally. The dorms. Stunning Gothic detailing.”
“Nice save.”
They ate in silence for a minute, Gwen poking at her sandwich.
“You drawing something?” she asked eventually, tilting her head toward the sketchbook.
Miles hesitated, then turned it slightly. Gwen blinked. It was a quick sketch of her, from the window the night before—just her silhouette, outlined by fairy lights.
“You drew this from memory?”
“Guess I’ve got a pretty good one,” he said softly, eyes flicking to hers.
Gwen’s cheeks warmed. She covered it by taking a long sip of her juice.
She was in trouble. Big, hopeless trouble.