"you?" "me."

Inside of the box Peter handed me is a paper saying that my application to Stark Ind. as a creative designer was accepted.

“You’re fucking joking me, Peter,” I say, my voice low and dead-serious.

I jump into Peter’s arms nearly knocking him over.

“That’s not all,” he said pushing me lightly out of his grip and placing his hands on my shoulders, turning me towards his door.

I see the knob turn and who else would walk out but, Tony fucking Stark.

“Welcome to the team kid,” he says smiling at me. Tony Stark, smiling, at me, at my party.

Everyone is shocked. So much so that Ned turned off the music when we turned towards the room. I feel weak on my feet as I hear Peter whisper, “Thank you, Mr. Stark,” in his direction.

Flash bursts through the crowd, seemingly furious.

“You actually know Penis Parker?” he had the audacity to say to Mr. Stark.

“Yes, I know Peter. He is a brilliant kid. So is Eleanore, from the looks of her portfolio,” he said walking towards Peter and I putting his hands on our shoulders. I start shaking.

I look at Peter and whisper in his ear, “I could kiss you right now, brilliant boy.”

Stark steps back and gets bombarded by questions. Peter turns toward me and puts his hand on my face.

“Why don’t you?” he asked stepping forward causing me to go onto my tiptoes and pull him into a kiss. I take a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer. The cheering of our friends is drowned out by the sound of fireworks. I pull away from the kiss with a silent, “Happy birthday to me”.

There is the sound of a slamming door, I see Flash’s coat tail as it slams.

“There he goes,” I say laughing.

Ned walks up to us sighing heavily, “Finally.”

“So when did this start? I know it wasn’t just now,” Ned said half laughing, half scoffing.

“What do you mean, that was the first time,” I say looking down and blushing.

“Yeah and I met Queen Elizabeth,” he said.

“Last night,” I say bluntly, realizing the lie wasn't gonna work with Ned, he’s like a walking lie detector sometimes I swear.

I feel my dull eyes getting brighter as the night goes on and I dance with Peter. Mr. Stark left hours ago, some work thing. I dance in Peter’s arms, only leaving them to say goodbye to people on their ways out. And, if I am being brutally honest, I was a bit tipsy. Peter didn’t want alcohol in the apartment because of May, but Flash’s friends brought some, and I drank. Because, fuck it, it was my birthday after all. I dance with Peter and feel weaker and weaker the later it gets.

I eventually wake up in Peter’s arms. I can’t quite recall when we fell asleep, or why on the couch. I stand up, careful not to disturb Peter, but quickly kissing him on the forehead. I tug on  the edge of my leggings, noticing a tear in the knee, I sigh heavily.

I sit on a stool next to the counter, rubbing my temple. The apartment is a mess, so I pick up a little bit. After a while, I search for my phone. I move blankets and find it in Peters hand. Unlocked. I look at what is open, my text messages.

I walk to the bay window and sit in it, hugging my knees to my chest. I look at the top text, one that was open but I hadn’t seen. Flash Thompson, read the name at the top with a photo I took of him for a project, years ago.

“Hope you’re happy with Penis Parker. Don’t even try to respond, your number will be blocked by the time you read this.”

I take a sharp breath in. I hope he’s happy knowing why I’ve stayed off Flash’s shit list for as long as I have, we’re friends. Or at least were.

I grab all of my things and rush to his room to go home through the fire escape with tears in my eyes.  I slam his bedroom door and his window on my way out, hoping he hears it.

I throw myself onto the bed and blast music. The line saturday nights aint about romancing anymore sticks in my mind, because how fucking ironic. I guess Saturday nights are about snooping on phones. After a while, I pull myself together and make a brash decision.

After a little bit of contemplating if it was right or not, I get showered and changed. I grab my phone for its GPS and walk out of the building. I jump onto my bike and pedal as fast as I can.

I drop my bike after stopping and take a deep breath in and out. I take a large step onto the stairs, staring at the carved piece of wood that I’ve grown familiar with. I run my fingers along the curved letters before resting my hand in a fist on the door.

I knock lightly, but firm at the same time.

The door opens and I’m confronted by the taller boy.