Chapter 22
The thing about Gwen Stacy was that she was usually good at pretending.
Even when she was scribbling nonsense in her notes or clearly not paying attention, she looked intentional. Like the kind of girl who was purposefully distracted, not zoned out. But today?
Today she looked like a ghost glitching between universes.
Miles sat two seats behind her, diagonal—just enough to keep her in view without it being obvious. Except it was probably obvious. She wasn’t doodling. Wasn’t fiddling with her pen. Wasn’t whispering to Rosie who sat next to her about how much she hated Physics. She was just… frozen.
Her ponytail bobbed when she startled at her name being called for attendance. She didn’t even glance behind when he said “yo” under his breath. No smile. No subtle wave. Nothing.
He slouched a little lower in his seat, frowning.
When class ended, Gwen bolted out like she had somewhere to be. Spoiler alert: she didn’t. Miles waited half a beat, grabbed his bag, and turned toward Ganke, who had shown up five minutes late and was now eating a suspiciously warm bagel.
“She’s acting weird,” Miles said casually, as they walked out together.
Ganke tore a bite off. “I mean, yeah. Wouldn’t you be, after a terrible date?”
Miles stopped walking. “Wait, what?”
“Oh, right, you didn’t know yet.” Ganke looked way too pleased with himself. “Amaya told me. Apparently, Elian showed up late and brought her a carnation. Who brings carnations, man?”
Miles blinked. “...Wait, like the ones they give out in hospitals?”
“Exactly!” Ganke gestured wildly with his half-eaten bagel. “Then he spent the whole date talking about himself. And when Gwen tried to steer the convo to, you know, normal human things, he gave her this whole speech about vibes and fate and his ‘moon rising.’ Whatever that means.”
Miles tried really hard not to smile. “That sounds… terrible.”
“It was. She looked miserable, Amaya said. Almost walked out.”
Miles rubbed the back of his neck. Something inside him buzzed—satisfaction, maybe. Or relief. Or hope. “So, she’s not into him?”
“Oh, she’s done,” Ganke confirmed. “But now she’s weird about it. You should talk to her.”
Miles snorted. “Yeah, right. So she can avoid me, too?”
Ganke shrugged. “She’s not avoiding you. She’s embarrassed. Which means she cares what you think.”
That shut Miles up.
For the first time all day, the weight in his chest eased a little.
Gwen didn’t mean to cry.
Not full-on sobbing, at least. But the kind where your chest feels like it’s caving in and your eyes start stinging and your throat tightens like it’s trying to protect you from something breaking through.
It had been a long day of pretending to be fine.
She'd ignored Elian’s texts. Ducked past Miles after Physics. Stared at her food in the dining hall until Amaya gently nudged her tray closer and whispered, “Eat, babe.” And now, she was here. The rooftop above her dorm, where the cold air felt clearer than anything inside.
She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there, hugging her knees, when she heard it—the soft thwip of a web catching on brick.
She didn't even flinch when she heard the voice.
“You look like someone who could use a change of scenery.”
Spider-Man.
She wiped her face quickly, pretending she wasn’t crying. “How do you keep finding me?”
“Magic,” he said casually, hopping over the ledge and crouching beside her. “And also because this rooftop’s actually one of the easiest to land on.”
She sniffed. “Right. Makes sense.”
He tilted his head. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Then, after a pause: “Maybe.”
He didn’t press. Just sat there with her in silence, hands resting on his knees, posture relaxed in that stupidly cool way that only masked heroes could pull off.
“I made a really dumb choice,” she whispered eventually. “And it’s like—I knew it was dumb. I knew it when I was doing it. But I was hurt and petty and now… I feel like I messed everything up.”
“Everyone messes up,” he said softly.
She gave a weak laugh. “Do you?”
“Oh yeah. All the time. You just don’t hear about it because the mask hides the flop sweats.”
She looked at him then, really looked. His mask glinted faintly under the dorm rooftop lights, and something about the way he was leaning toward her made her feel… safe.
“I don’t want to go back inside yet,” she said.
He stood, held out a gloved hand. “Wanna go somewhere that isn’t here?”
She stared at his hand. “Like… where?”
“Anywhere. Just you, me, and a couple thousand feet of web.”
Her heart thumped.
“You’re offering to swing me through the city?”
“You said you liked the view from up high, remember?” His voice was playful now. “Trust me, this is better than any window.”
She hesitated only for a second before slipping her hand into his.
His grip was firm and steady as he helped her up.
And when he pulled her closer, wrapping an arm securely around her waist, Gwen felt her breath catch—less from fear, more from something else entirely.
“Ready?” he asked.
She looked up at him. “No.”
He chuckled. “Too bad.”
And then they were off—soaring into the night like two pieces of a story that were always meant to find each other in the dark.
She screamed.
Not in fear.
Okay—a little in fear.
But mostly in shock, because nothing had prepared her for the way her stomach dropped when Spider-Man launched them off the rooftop with a confident thwip, and suddenly the world tilted sideways.
The wind roared in her ears. Lights blurred. The city stretched out beneath her in glittering chaos. She clung to him, one arm wrapped tight around his shoulder, the other gripping the front of his suit like her life depended on it.
“I thought this was supposed to be fun!” she shouted over the rush of air.
“It is!” he called back, laughing.
“You’re insane!”
“You’re smiling!”
She was smiling.
She couldn’t help it. Her heart was racing. Her cheeks hurt from how hard she was grinning. Every rooftop leap, every dip through the air, every spin—it was terrifying and thrilling and freeing. She felt like she was flying.
They zipped past the Chrysler Building, flipped over a skybridge, then soared above traffic, so high up the cars looked like tiny fireflies. He did a wide arc around a building and landed them smoothly on the edge of a quiet rooftop garden.
Gwen staggered a little when he let her go.
“Still alive?” he teased.
“Barely,” she said, laughing breathlessly. “I think I left my soul three blocks ago.”
He pushed up his mask just enough to sip water from a bottle he’d stashed somewhere, then offered her the rest. She took it without thinking, her fingers brushing his gloved hand.
“I can’t believe you do this every night,” she said.
He shrugged. “It’s peaceful. In a chaotic, slightly bone-breaking way.”
She walked toward the edge, peering down at the glittering stretch of Manhattan. “It’s beautiful up here.”
He joined her. “Better than sulking on a dorm rooftop, huh?”
She gave him a sideways glance. “You always like swooping in and saving girls from their feelings?”
“Just one girl,” he said before he could stop himself.
She looked at him, startled.
There was a pause—just long enough to feel heavy, important.
And then he turned quickly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway. You wanna keep going?”
Gwen smiled faintly. “You gonna catch me if I fall?”
He didn’t hesitate. “Always.”
And so they swung again, flying past neon signs and open windows, two shadows dancing across the skyline. The wind tangled in her hair. Her laughter echoed down alleyways. And for the first time in days, she wasn’t thinking about dates or blog comments or who she’d disappointed.
She was just here.
With him.
With Spider-Man.
Who, she was starting to realize… might just be the one?
They ended the night somewhere quiet—low rooftop, nestled between two faded billboards, far from honking cabs and blinking lights. The city below hummed like background noise. Warm takeout sat between them—kebabs from some 24-hour hole-in-the-wall that Spider-Man insisted had “changed his life.”
Gwen had to admit… he was right. It was really good.
She sat cross-legged beside him, chewing thoughtfully as the breeze tugged gently at her hair. His mask was rolled up just past his nose, so she could see the way his cheeks puffed out as he chewed. It made her grin.
“You don’t talk much about yourself,” she said, sipping her soda.
He looked at her with an amused arch of his brow. “You’re eating shawarma with a masked vigilante and just now bringing that up?”
“Touché,” she laughed. “Still. I dunno. It’s weird. I used to write about Spider-Man like he was this distant hero in the clouds, y’know? Like… not real.”
“And now you’re feeding him grilled meat on a rooftop.”
“Exactly.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching a plane crawl across the sky.
“I think…” she started, fingers toying with a napkin, “I think I liked you before I knew you. But now? I think I really like you.”
His chewing slowed. “Like, like-like?”
She rolled her eyes, giggling. “You’re literally wearing a spandex suit, and that’s the part of this you need clarified?”
He smirked behind the mask.
Gwen reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. “Smile.”
“What—wait—”
Click.
She caught him mid-laugh, cheeks round, shawarma in hand, eyes crinkled at the corners. She’d blur his face later, but the photo? Perfect.
“For the blog,” she said. “They need to know the kebab-legend is real.”