CHAPTER NINETEEN;
aftermath

"L'UOMO DEL MISTERIO." SAYS THE NEWS ANCHOR THROUGH THE TV.

Clips of what happened roll across the screen. They're blurry and they obviously come from dingy iPhone cameras but they still show what happened pretty well.  Water jets splash across the screen and people are heard screaming. The clips make Amala shiver.

"Sounds like his name is Mysterio." Sam Martin says from across the room.

"'L'uomo del misterio' is Italian for 'Man of Mystery'. They don't actually know who he is." Amala pipes up from the base of the stairs, her fingers still shakingly playing with the card.

Everyone turns to her.

"Amala!" Ned walks up to her, giving her a light hug. "How're you feeling?"

"Much better." Amala smiles before she remembers: "Where's - uh - where's Peter?"

Before Ned has a chance to reply, Sam Martin walks up to her and wraps her into an unexpected embrace.

"Holy shit," he mumbles into her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Amala tenses, taken aback by the sudden show of physical affection. Her hands awkwardly rest in her hoodie's pockets for a couple seconds before she reluctantly returns the hug — not as enthusiastically as him.

"Hi, Sam," she grumbles, lump in her throat. "Yeah, I'm alright."

He pulls away, hands still on her shoulders. "I was worried, you know? When I saw you with Akira and Ned... I - I'm just glad you're okay." He swallows, chuckling. "You scared us all."

"I didn't mean to." She smiles apologetically. "You didn't need to worry. It wasn't as bad as it looked."

The raven looks at his hands — that are still on his shoulders — and looks back at Sam.

"Oh!" He blushes, embarrassed. "Sorry, I - uh - I'm kinda a touchy person. Um - especially when I'm nervous."

Amala bites her lip. "You're nervous?"

Sam intakes a sharp breath. "Around you? Yeah."

Her eyes widen. Wow... okay.

"That's bold," she replies.

Sam laughs. "I know you like it when people are forward. So I'm being forward."

Amala returns the laugh, though her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Yeah, that's - uh - that's true."

Sam regards her with worried eyes and slight hurt in them. "Are you-"

"I'm fine," she interrupts. "I'm still a little tired and generally shaken up. Sorry."

He shakes his head. "Oh, don't worry. I understand. I'll - uh - I'll give you a second." He says, rubbing her shoulder.

"Thanks," she replies simply, smiling in politeness.

His hands linger for a bit before they squeeze her shoulder and let go.

Sighing once he's out of ear shot, the raven's hands automatically return to that little card. With shaking fingers, she traces them over its edges, it's center, it's embossed writing — by now, she's probably memorized the entire thing.

There are a million things going through her mind. Her brain sends itself into overdrive, computing every single little detail it's seen in regards to Peter and Spider-man.

They're not the same people, this she knows. Peter Parker is her friend — scratch that, one of her best friends. He's kind and shy and incredibly smart. He's honest and gets flustered easily and he is not Spider-man. He can't be. It simply doesn't make sense.

They're two different people on two different sides of the world. Peter Parker is a sweet high school student and Spider-man is a crime fighting nationwide phenomenon. They're not the same. That's impossible.

Yet, this is an absurd coincidence. What are the odds that it's the same flower shop? How many probabilities did this go against?

Her heart is drumming loudly in her chest and the pounding tires her. She closes her eyes and presses her forehead against the stair's railing, feeling the wood cool her down.

Amala needs to relax. It's a coincidence — a crazy one at that, but still just a coincidence.

Just a coincidence, just a coincidence, her mind chants. It's just a coincidence.

"Amala?"

Her head immediately snaps back up.

"Peter," she blurts.

His eyes swim with concern and Amala finds herself calming under their gaze.

"How are you - um - how are you, you know, feeling? Ned told me that -" He stutters.

Amala scoffs. "Fuck you," she curses before she grapples him into a hug, any thoughts beyond his safety fleeing her mind.

Peter wastes no time in returning the embrace, one of his hands digging into waist, the other at the back of her head. He still smells the same; that comforting mint and cologne but with a bit rainwater this time. He feels the same, too. Still rock solid under her touch but comforting enough to sink into.

She rocks them back and forth, her hands gripping his neck tightly. Her eyes are closed, her head is in the crook of his neck and suddenly she has an unexplainable urge to cry.

A myriad of emotions explode inside her core, clouding her thoughts and making her knees weak. There's fear and sadness, worry and relief, all running in her veins.

"Amala, are you-"

"Shut up. Shut up." She interrupts, her head still crammed into his neck. "Fuck you. Never do that ever again," She pulls away to look at him, hands still around his neck. "Ever. Do you understand?"

Peter nods weakly, his cheeks pink. "I'm sorry."

She shakes her head, leaning into him more (for comfort or so he can hear her better — that's between Amala and her intentions). "Do you understand?" She repeats.

He nods again, his hands digging into her waist even more. "Yes, I understand."

She sighs and hugs him again. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. You had me worried sick."

"You, too, Amala." He mumbles into her hair. "Ned told me what happened. Are you okay?"

Amala hums. "I am now that I know you're okay." She sighs, before continuing. "I can't believe you just ran the other way. I can't believe Ned let you go. I don't understand - did you have a death wish?"

Pulling away from her to press their foreheads together, Peter softly whispers: "I'm sorry for worrying you. I never wanted to do that — not to you Amala. I just - I don't know. I just ran without thinking. I realize it was quite stupid of me-"

"-So stupid." Amala interrupts, leaning her forehead against him even more as she regards him what has to be the biggest heart eyes ever.

Peter laughs, biting his lip. "I know. I'm sorry. It won't happened again."

"It better not."

He nudges her forehead with his. "I promise. I'm - uh - I'm really glad you're okay, Amala."

Amala says nothing. She just nods and looks at him.

God, he's so pretty, she thinks to herself.

From his chestnut hair, to his honey eyes, to his perfect smile, everything about him is just so pretty. Amala's heart squeezes in her chest at the mere realization.

She can't help the smile that breaks out on her face or the shade her cheeks turn.

In this moment, she's just simply enamored by the boy in her arms. She's just simply enamored by the way he looks at her — like he wants to kiss her.

In another moment of realization, Amala realizes that maybe it's not such a bad idea... to kiss him. In fact, the thought of it alone makes her want to buck her knees.

Perhaps Peter has the same idea because he presses himself just a little closer, until there's nothing but atoms between them. Perhaps Peter wants that, too, because his eyes drop to her lips, then her eyes, then her lips again. She licks them without even thinking, maybe by instinct.

She's not sure how long they stay like this, eyes locked on each other and trapped in their own little paradise.

But bliss isn't eternal and Flash Thompson's voice cracks their makeshift sanctuary like a mallet to glass.

"He's alright. He's no Spider-man." Flash scoffs.

Amala and Peter tune into the conversation, chests still heaving from their almost-kiss.

"What is with you and Spider-man?" Akira questions.

Flash's pulls his brows. "What?" He says like it's the most obvious thing in the world. "He's just awesome, okay? He protects the neighborhood and he's inspiring. He inspires me to be a better man."

Ned stifles a laugh with the back of his hand and next to him, Akira can't hide the way her face cringes.

Before Akira has a chance to make a snarky reply at his expense, Flash looks over to the stairs and notices two very flustered teenagers.

"'Sup, dickwad?" He tips his chin up towards Peter. "Thought you drowned. Seems you're alright though, since you've been eye-fucking Amala since she got here."

Several 'ooh's' sound through the air and Peter flushes a crushed cranberry shade.

Amala's face reddens, too — though her composure is arguably much better.

"Yeah, at least he knows me, Flash." She blurts out before she can stop herself. "You're too busy getting your panties wet over iPhone shot youtube videos."

The entire room erupts in loud laughter, their eyes now fully directed at the bickering group.

"I - I don't get my panties wet over him!" He shouts accusingly.

Amala laughs, enjoying his defensive stance. "Oh? You don't?"

"No!" He says, getting more defensive by the second once he notices how little Amala regards his excuse. "I just happen to get videos of him in my feed sometimes."

"You know that's because you actively seek them out, right? It's how the algorithm works." Peter calls out, cheeks still a bit red but seemingly better than before.

Flash lets out a frustrated screech that sounds something akin to a dinosaur in heat. "Shut the fuck up, Penis Parker! What do you know?"

More giggles bounces off the room as Flash continues to make a mockery of himself.

Akira's boisterous laughter drowns his little meltdown as she points out: "Flash, sweetie, you're digging a bigger hole for yourself."

"No, I'm not!" He says like he's moments away from breaking.

"'Oh, Spider-man! You're so hot and cool and you inspire me to be the best version of myself.'" Amala mimics in a high-pitched fan girl voice. "'Please sign my right tit and give me your spider babies!'"

If Flash's stare could burn, Amala would be a puddle of molten lava.

"I wish you all would've drowned." He grits out.

"Flash!" Mr. Dell beckons. "Don't say that after they almost actually drowned."

Flash's right eye twitches and Amala can see his nostrils flare in frustration. With all odds stacked against him, he storms up the stairs, nudging Peter on his way up.

The group of four dissolve into laughter at his dramatic "defeat". Akira and Ned reenact the conversation, pulling off the dialogue with dramatic pauses and manipulated accents. Amala and Peter just watch the pair and laugh, adding funny comments here and there.

Amala presses herself just a bit closer to Peter at some point. She leans into him shyly, waiting for him to show her that it's okay. He quickly responds by bringing her closer, his hand wrapping around her shoulder.

She hides her smile in the nook of his shoulder.

All her worries about today wash down the drain and for the first time since she woke up, she feels as though she can finally breathe.

"Never took you for a rebel." Akira smirks.

"Oh, fuck off." Amala scoffs. "I'm going next door to hang out with one of our friends, not party with the Pope."

Akira barks out a laugh. "Fine, but that is not your friend. That's your mutual crush."

Amala changes into a matching set of green plaid pants and crop top. The color is almost identical to Peter's hoodie, which she slides back on. "Mutual?"

Humming, Akira gets up, swinging her feet off the bed. "I mean you both like each other. That's what I mean."

Rolling her eyes, Amala fishes through her suitcase, pulling out her limited edition 'Queen' Nicki Minaj perfume. "I never said I liked him. I just kinda think he's pretty."

"Uh-huh. Yeah, and my name is Cher."

Amala sneers, spraying the perfume a couple times. "Ha. Ha. Very funny."

"I know," Akira smiles. "I'm just naturally funny."

"And ugly." The raven mouths.

Akira pretends not to see her lips moving. "What did you say?"

"Nothing!" Amala laughs. "Just that you're right. You're so funny."

"Damn right I am, bitch." Her best friend quips, digging through Amala's makeup bag.

Amala looks over at her best friend, confused at why she's prying into her bag.

Seconds later, Akira pulls out lip gloss, an eyelash curler and vaseline.

With confusion still etched on her face, Akira sits her down at the edge of the bed and straddles her, makeup products in hand.

"I know you only kinda think he's pretty but," she begins as she puckers Amala's lips with her cheeks. "If you're going over to hang out knowing your attraction for each other is mutual, you've gotta at least look the part."

With her lips still puckered, Amala mumbles: "don't I look the part?"

Akira tsks. "You do but you're missing that extra..." she clicks her fingers. "You know?"

Humming, Amala nods.

"Stay still till I'm done." Is all Akira says as she lets go of Amala's cheeks and begins curling her lashes with the metal curler.

Once she's satisfied, she opens the tub of vaseline and scrapes out a little glob, pressing it between her two index fingers, before smearing them on Amala's lashes. 

At the sensation, the raven bats her lashes, feeling the jelly stick to them.

"And... all done." Akira smiles, straightening her brows with the pad of her thumbs. "You already looked hot. 'Just needed that extra something."

Her best friend gets off her and puts the makeup back in the bag.

Amala gets up and eyes herself in the mirror.

She understands what Akira meant by needing that extra something. Staring at herself, she notices the shine on her lips and the volume on her lashes. It really does add an extra element to her complexion.

She turns to her best friend. "Thanks, Aki."

"No problem," her best friend smiles. "Now you go to his room and you make his knees weak, sweetie."

Amala rolls her eyes but can't stop the laugh that escapes her lips. "Thanks, sweetie. Stay safe, okay? Let me know if you and Ned need anything."

"Will do, Mala," she agrees. "Have fun," she winks suggestively before closing the hotel room door.

Drowned by sudden silence, Amala grabs her phone and looks at the mirror one more time.

It's just Peter, she says to herself. That calms her down.

It's just Peter, she says to herself again. That makes her even more nervous.

Closing her eyes, she psychs herself up as best as she can, mumbling silly affirmations.

It's just Peter. Why is she nervous?

She walks out, closes the door behind her and walks down the hall towards his room.

After Flash's little meltdown, Mr. Dell and Mr. Harrington had sent the entire class to their rooms, telling them that sleep would 'drown all of today's worries away'. Poor choice of words, but the sentiment was appreciated.

Now, in any situation, people would agree and go back to their rooms. They'd sleep the night away and and leave their fears at the door, wake up and try to move on from the traumatic events of yesterday.

However, no teenager in their right mind is a follower of rules, especially on summer vacation. So, best believe that the rule shattered the second it was made and the class had other plans. Plans that included booze, loud music and a dingy hotel basement.

Amala and Peter chose to sit this one out because: one, partying wasn't really his scene and two, Amala needed to take it easy on her body for the next several days. Akira and Ned, on the other hand, were hellbent on going — even if the sky split open.

So the pairings were easy, Akira and Ned would go to the party and Peter and Amala would hang out.

Once she arrived to his door, Amala took a deep breath. There was nothing to be nervous about, she knew this. She's just hanging out with one of her very attractive, very shy and very nervous friends who somehow makes her very shy and very nervous, too.

Relax, her mind implores.

Soft mumbling can be just barely heard from across the door and Amala wonders if Akira knows Ned hasn't gone down yet.

She knocks three times on the door and waits.

The voices from inside come to a silent halt immediately.

Amala stands by the door and waits for a couple seconds, twirling her fingers through one of her curls.

Just when she thinks the waiting will kill her, the door opens.

"A-Amala," he says like he's shocked to see her. "Hey!"

"Hi, Peter," she smiles. "What's up?"

One of his hands rests on the doorknob and the other leans against the doorway. "Um - nothing much. Just - uh - just chilling." He nods.

"Cool," she says slowly. When he doesn't move, she says: "can I - um - can I come inside?"

"Oh - uh... Ned is - Ned is asleep." He whispers.

Amala's brows crease downward. "Really?"

She could swear she heard him talk to Peter before she knocked on their door.

"Yeah," he continues, putting on a serious face. "I mean, we got here and he was out cold."

"Does Akira know? They were supposed to go downstairs together." Amala voiced, skepticism starting to form.

Peter looks to his left. "Um ... I'm not sure?"

She huffs. "Okay, do you wanna go back to my room? Akira's gonna be gone for a couple hours anyways and I don't wanna wake Ned."

Peter rubs the back off his neck before looking to his left again. "I don't know if that's such a good idea..."

Now she's really frowning. "Why not?"

She's not sure what's going on but something is definitely off. Peter's entire demeanor is stand-offish and his answers come out like he's unsure if they're true or not. He keeps looking to side and back at Amala — each time his eyes squint and his posture straightens. On top of that, Ned is asleep when he was supposed to be with Akira fifteen minutes ago. Didn't Ned text Akira before they both left? How was that possible when he was supposedly asleep? More importantly, who was Peter talking to before she knocked? It could have been his aunt but why would he put her on speaker knowing Ned was sleeping?

Denial is such a cunning little thing. It's tendrils start from the floor and work their way up, lacerating Amala's limbs slowly until her whole body oozes with what she knows in its primal sense is rejection.

Her eyes widen in realization and a quiet "oh" escapes her lips in a gasp.

"Um - it's just not a good night. I'm really tired and - I just -" Peter starts saying and the words crush Amala's entire internal organ system into little pieces.

Her heart splashes in her stomach and her hearing hollows out.

"It's okay." She swallows and her heart feels like it's crumbling under an anvil. "You don't have to explain yourself to me."

"I'm really sorry. I'm -"

She interrupts him swiftly, unable to withstand the conversation. "Don't worry about it. I'll let Akira know that Ned is asleep. Have a good night, Peter."

"Amala, wait - " Peter calls, eyes wide.

She looks him dead in the eyes and wonders if he can see the hurt flaring in them. "Mhm?"

She expects him to apologize, to try and smooth over whatever little dignity she has left. She wants him to say that he's tired but he'd enjoy the company anyway, that going back to her room is fine, that he's glad she actually came.

Instead, he simply says: "goodnight, Amala."

Amala's ears figuratively let out steam and her breathing gets heavy. "Goodnight-" she mumbles before the door closes in her face.

Taken aback, she moves several paces backwards, jaw slack on the floor.

Her mind swarms. He didn't -

Embarrassment glows bright green in her veins and anger wraps around her face like an octopus.

For several moments, she just stares at the door, body rigid with shock because what the fuck was that?

Rejecting someone was one thing — no matter how harsh it was. But closing a door in their face? What did that mean?

Almost in slow-motion, Amala spins around and starts trotting back to her room, mortification guiding her.

She doesn't even get there when she shrugs off his green hoodie, crumpling it in her hand. Cold air hits her shoulders and midriff  — she doesn't care.

She knows she should feel sad, depressed and heartbroken. She knows that she should cry into Akira's shoulder when she gets back and swim in a puddle of her own sorrow. Yet, she feels none of that.  She simply feels disappointed, upset and embarrassed. Hell, she feels angry — flaming, crimson, anger. Scarlet overtakes her vision and her mind buzzes in vexation.

Slamming the door behind her, Amala leans into the wood. It makes contact with her skin and she shivers again.

In a fit of rage, she throws that stupid green hoodie across the room and doesn't care to watch where it lands.

— END OF CHAPTER —

[ NOTE ]
remember when i said
there was light angst?
lol hey 😊✌🏼

hope you guys enjoyed
this one !! votes and
comments are always
appreciated (never forced).

have an incredible day!

pearl <3