Chapter 24
The air was cool, heavy with the distant hum of the city, and Gwen sat with her knees pulled to her chest, a blanket around her shoulders. Her phone buzzed on and off beside her—messages from Amaya, even a random meme from Camila—but she couldn’t focus.
She was waiting.
And then—
thwip
A soft shuffle behind her.
She didn’t turn right away. She didn’t need to.
“I was wondering if you’d show up,” Gwen said softly, her voice not quite hiding the nerves under her calm exterior.
Spider-Man sat beside her, quiet for a moment, mask on. “Didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
His tone was different. No teasing. No lightness.
Gwen glanced at him. “You okay?”
He hesitated before replying. “I’ve been thinking. About… us.”
Her heart stuttered. “There’s no us,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly. “Not really. I mean—you’ve never even told me your name.”
“I know,” he said. “And I can’t. I won’t. Because I can’t give you what you deserve.”
She blinked. “Is this—are you seriously breaking up with me when we were never even dating?” She tried to joke, but her voice cracked right at the end.
He didn’t laugh. He looked down at his hands.
“You’ve been writing about me. A lot,” he said. “And I noticed… you’re starting to see me as more than just a hero. And that’s not fair to you.”
Gwen swallowed, caught between embarrassment and frustration. “I never said I wanted anything from you.”
“I know. But you’re kind, and honest, and you care so much. You deserve someone who can be there in the morning. Someone who doesn’t lie about where he’s been. Someone who’s not constantly bruised and late and ducking out on you to chase explosions.”
She turned toward him now, brows furrowed, lips parted. “But I never asked you to be perfect.”
A pause.
“I just… liked you.”
Spider-Man didn’t move. He didn’t speak. Just slowly stood up.
And for the first time since they’d met, Gwen felt distance she couldn’t cross—not with a clever line, not with a blog post, not even with a question.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “This is the only way I can protect you.”
And then—
thwip
He was gone.
Leaving Gwen on the rooftop, blinking back a sting in her eyes she hadn’t prepared for.
She didn’t know if it hurt more because she’d lost Spider-Man…
…or because she felt like she’d lost someone else, too.
And she didn’t even know who.
The campus was buzzing, same as always. Laughter. Footsteps. A couple skateboards. Someone playing lo-fi on a speaker near the fountain.
And Gwen? She walked through it like a ghost in pastel. Smiling just enough, waving just enough. Headphones on, music not playing.
The hollowness clung to her like a shadow. She kept her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses, even though the day was overcast. Every now and then, she tugged the sleeves of her jacket down over her hands—something about feeling smaller felt safer.
Amaya had asked her earlier if she was okay. Gwen had lied.
Of course. I’m just tired. Late night. You know how it is.
No one else asked. That was good. That was easier.
She sat alone at the edge of a planter box, sipping a smoothie that was mostly just melted ice by now, when someone took the seat beside her.
She glanced sideways.
Miles.
He didn’t say anything at first. Just sat there, pulling out a cookie from a napkin and offering it like a peace treaty.
“You looked like you needed sugar,” he said with a small smile.
Gwen blinked. Took it.
“Thanks,” she said, voice soft.
“You okay?” he asked gently, and before she could deflect again, he added, “Like, really okay?”
Something about the way he said it. Like he wasn’t just asking out of politeness. Like he already knew the answer.
Gwen shrugged. “I’m fine. Just thinking too much. Stupid brain stuff.”
Miles didn’t push. He just nodded, picked at the edge of the napkin. “Sometimes those are the worst kinds.”
There was a pause. Gwen took a bite of the cookie, chewed slowly.
“I was wondering…” he started, voice lower now, more tentative. “Would you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like—not school or tutoring or rooftop chaos. Just… a date? With me?”
Gwen looked up. Really looked at him.
There it was again—that quiet warmth. No mask. No mystery. Just Miles. Waiting.
And her heart, traitorous and loud, thudded behind her ribs.
She swallowed.
“I’d really like that,” she said.
His smile stretched just enough to make her chest ache in the best way. “Cool. Then it’s a date.”
There was music playing—something glittery and bassy—and Gwen’s bed was an explosion of clothes. Skirts, jeans, crop tops, boots, glittery eyeliner, hair clips, and at least three different perfumes.
“Okay,” Camila said, holding up two very different tops, “Do we want dreamy stargazer Gwen or I-wear-black-because-I-don’t-have-time-for-your-nonsense Gwen?”
Amaya, seated cross-legged on the bed and applying lip gloss like it was a military operation, pointed at Gwen. “What’s your vibe tonight? Like, do you want him to fall for you completely or just suffer in confusion for a few weeks?”
Gwen laughed—real, genuine, from the gut. “Can I do both?”
“Obviously,” they said in unison.
Amaya leaned forward, a mischievous grin on her face. “So. This is like a real date date?”
Gwen, cheeks slightly pink, nodded. “He asked me. Just, like… straight up asked me.”
Camila gasped dramatically. “The audacity of him being emotionally mature.”
“Girl, shut up,” Amaya laughed. “Anyway, hair. What are we doing? Bun? Waves? One of those half-up half-down things that makes you look like a fairy?”
Gwen looked in the mirror, tugging at a strand of her hair. “I don’t know… what says ‘I’m effortlessly cool but also totally not spiraling about how cute you are’?”
Camila raised a brow. “Messy bun with face-framing strands.”
“I vote soft waves and the tiny star clips,” Amaya countered. “It’s giving cosmic romance.”
“Do you guys wanna get dressed for the date instead?” Gwen teased.
They all laughed. Camila threw a pillow at her.
Eventually, after way too many outfit switches and one minor meltdown over mismatched earrings, Gwen stood in front of the mirror, golden hoops on, cheeks rosy, hair curled just right, and wearing the soft lavender tank with the little stitched moons.
“Okay,” Amaya said, hands on hips, “If he doesn’t fall in love with you tonight, we will riot.”
“No pressure or anything,” Gwen grinned.
Camila snapped a picture on her phone. “Just a warning—if this goes well, we’re making a TikTok about it.”
“Tag me in it,” Gwen said, grabbing her jacket.
“Obviously.”
As she walked out the door, she could still hear them behind her.
“Don’t trip!”
“Text us updates!”
“NO KISSING UNTIL AT LEAST THE SECOND DATE—ok maybe one kiss!”
Gwen just smiled and kept walking.
The glass walls of the entrance shimmered with reflected waterlight, little ribbons of blue and gold dancing across the floor like magic. Gwen stood just outside, arms crossed, trying not to look like she was panicking. Which, to be fair, she was. A little.
She looked cute. She knew she looked cute. Amaya and Camila had made sure of that. But now, standing here, alone with her thoughts and the distant sound of bubbling tanks beyond the ticket counter, she started to second-guess every decision from her outfit to her entire personality.
“He picked an aquarium,” she muttered, glancing up at the big jellyfish mural near the roof. “Who does that?”
But it was sweet. Unique. Kinda perfect, actually.
She checked her phone. No texts yet. She was ten minutes early—classic her. It wasn’t nerves exactly, just… okay, it was nerves.
The big glass double doors whooshed open behind her, and for a split second, she thought—Maybe it’s him.
Nope. Just a family with two kids sprinting ahead, already excited about turtles.
She gave herself a little pep talk in her head. It’s just Miles. Miles who likes lemon tea. Miles who smiles like he’s surprised he’s allowed to. Miles who let you steal the last bite of his sandwich two days ago without protest.
The thought made her smile.
Suddenly, someone cleared their throat. She turned.
There he was.
Standing a few feet away, slightly out of breath like he’d run from the train station, wearing a navy hoodie over a white t-shirt, curls slightly tousled from the wind.
“I, uh—hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry if I’m late. Ganke wanted to give me advice and ended up spilling yogurt on my shoes.”
Gwen laughed, light and real. “Sounds about right.”
“You look…” His words trailed off for a second, then returned like a whisper. “Wow. You look really pretty.”
And just like that, every single spiral in her head dissolved.
She shrugged, biting back a grin. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”
He held up two aquarium tickets like a magician revealing his final trick. “Ready to be emotionally moved by jellyfish?”
“Always.”
As they walked inside together, their shoulders brushing just slightly, Gwen felt it again—that gentle, warm, fizzy feeling in her chest.
It wasn’t magic. But it was something close.