Chapter 43
Shopping had been a blast. Camila’s dress looked like a galaxy in motion, Amaya’s was sleek and dramatic with sleeves that deserved their own spotlight, and Gwen… Gwen had found something soft and shimmery. Pale lilac tulle that made her feel a little like a cloud and a little like a dream.
When they returned to campus, bags in hand and feet aching, Gwen waved off the others and drifted to Miles’ room. Ganke wasn’t there, thankfully. The lights were off, bed made, Miles’ hoodie tossed on the back of his desk chair.
She slipped it on.
Gwen curled up on the bed with her legs tucked under her, scrolling through her phone, rehearsing how to bring it up casually.
Hey, so prom. I got a dress…
Wanna match colors?
You are coming, right?
But Miles didn’t show. Not after an hour. Not after two.
By the time the sky outside was orange and her fingers were numb from refreshing his texts, Gwen gave up.
She slipped out of the hoodie, folded it neatly, and placed it on his bed.
No anger. Just… heaviness.
She walked slowly back to her own room, her dress bags piled by the closet, shoes glinting quietly in their box. Gwen sat on the edge of her bed, trying to tell herself it was okay.
We’ll talk tomorrow. He probably got held up. It’s not that deep.
But as she pulled the covers over her head and rolled onto her side, her eyes stayed wide open.
The next few days passed in a blur. Posters for prom were everywhere now. Teachers mentioned it. Girls debated hair styles and dress alterations.
And Miles?
Still hadn't brought it up.
So Gwen cornered him by the vending machines.
“Miles.”
He flinched like she caught him off guard. “Oh. Hey.”
“I’ve been meaning to ask—are you still coming to prom with me?”
He blinked. “Uh—yeah. Yeah, of course. Totally.”
She watched him too carefully. “You sure?”
He smiled—wide and just a little too fast. “Wouldn’t miss it.”
Gwen didn’t push. Not then.
She smiled back. “Okay. Cool.”
Prom night.
Gwen stood in front of her dorm mirror in her lilac dress, her makeup done, hair curled and pinned with silver bobby pins. She looked—well, kind of perfect.
Camila whistled as she grabbed her clutch. “Okay, star of the night, I see you!”
“Is Miles meeting you here?” Amaya asked, fluffing her own curls.
Gwen nodded. “Yeah. He said he’d swing by before.”
They both hugged her and left in a swirl of perfume and high heels, promising to save her a spot on the dance floor.
Gwen waited.
And waited.
Time passed in slow, dragging stretches. She tried to text, but didn’t. Not yet.
By the time it was an hour into the dance, she was still sitting on her dorm bed, fully dressed and alone.
She slipped out quietly. No glitter. No heels. Just Gwen in her dress and a hoodie, climbing the stairs to the roof.
The city glittered below her, and she sat with her knees pulled to her chest, watching it.
Somewhere out there, Spider-Man was probably saving someone.
But he wasn’t with her.