CHAPTER THIRTY TWO;
boyfriend!

"PETER!" AMALA LAUGHS. "THEY'RE JUST MY PARENTS."

"That's why I'm nervous!"

Warm sunlight flows through Amala's bedroom. Quiet music plays in the background — "Favorite" by Nicki Minaj and virtually any romance song on her various playlists.

She chuckles at Peter's response and hums along to the song, scanning her closet for a possible outfit.

Today, Peter is going to meet her parents.

Due to her summer trip to Europe's events, Amala never had a chance to sit her parents down and tell them she was in a relationship. They'd been so busy helping her recuperate that talk of boys and romance just didn't seem right.

Because several months have passed and the new school year is finally about to start, now seems like a good time to talk about it.

A week ago, Amala finally told them.

During dinner, she approached the topic gently, making sure to use the right words. She explained that she'd been friends with Peter for several months and during their final trip to London, he asked her out. She carefully omitted the fact that it was just moments after the city had burst into flames and he was in a spandex suit, bruised and hurt. Instead, she said that after they finally found each other among the chaos, he'd asked her out in a flurry of pent up emotions; he realized how much he liked her after almost losing her, according to Amala. She'd agreed and confessed she shared mutual feelings and that was that.

They took the news rather well (although her father seemed a little apprehensive of his only daughter dating). However, all in all, they were more than supportive. Her parents knew Peter was a good kid who was well established at school and kindhearted — that was all they needed to hear.

After that conversation, Amala's parents insisted Peter come over for dinner to get to know him better.

So, here they are. 

"Peter," Amala soothes through the phone, running her hand through her clothing rack. "It's okay. You're going to be okay. It's just dinner."

He whines in response. "Yeah, dinner with my girlfriend's parents."

Settling on a pair of black bell-bottom jeans and a pink crop top, Amala shuts her closet.

A soft blush creeps on her cheeks and she lets out a slight giggle.

"Why are you laughing?" Peter pouts.

"'My girlfriend's parents'," she swoons. "Sounds pretty."

"Amala!" Peter complains (although she suspects he's blushing, too).

"Peter, baby, you're going to be just fine. I'm gonna be right next to you! You have nothing to worry about." She assures him. "Be yourself."

"Ned told me to do anything but that."

She laughs. "Accurate Ned."

She turns around to sit on her vanity chair and put on her usual makeup when a small velvet box catches her eye.

Her heart stops beating.

Peter's ring.

She never got a chance to give it to him. After all, she spent the whole summer getting chased by monsters.

Amala looks at it for a moment.

Today, she mumbles to herself.

"Peter?" She asks a moment later.

"Yeah, babe?" He responds.

She smiles bashfully. "I have to go. See you soon?"

"Oh okay," he says. "Bye, Amala."

"Bye, Peter!" She replies before saying, "by the way I have a gift for you when you get here."

"What? Amala, what do you-"

"Nope!" She laughs. "Bye, swing safe!" She sing-songs before ending the call.

She chuckles to herself, a light blush on her face.

Her eyes dart back to the ring box.

Today.

"Amala!" Her mother calls from the living room. "Can you open the door? Your boyfriend is here."

Amala rises from her beanbag, tucking her bookmark between the pages of "Supernova" by Marissa Meyers. "Coming!"

Walking to the door, Amala's mother is setting the dinner table. Forks and plates clatter on the dark oak as she arranges them neatly in front of each seat. Her expression is focused and her fingers push and pull on the china, positioning it exactly where she sees fit. Her father, on the other hand, is tucking his shirt in as he looks at himself through the mirror in their foyer. Unsatisfied, he does it again and again until it looks good to him.

Amala stifles a small laugh.

"Is there something funny, Zahra?" Her father asks.

She shakes her head. "'Just cute seeing you guys all flustered over Peter coming. He's not the prince of England — he's just my boyfriend."

Her mother looks at her with a grin. "All the more reason to be flustered, hayete." (hayete means my life in arabic.)

"Indeed," her father chuckles. "We need to know what boy stole our daughter's heart."

Amala hums as a reply as she reaches the door.

She swings the door open.

"Peter," she smiles. "Hi."

There he stands, all handsome and soft. He's wearing loose washed out jeans and an oversized T-shirt. His hair is a little messy at his nape but it still holds its usual curl. He looks so pretty, as usual.

In his hand is a bouquet of lavenders and little white flowers, neatly arranged between brown wrapping paper.

She looks at them with warm affection before meeting his eyes.

"Hey, Amala," he says bashfully. "Uh- these are for you."

Her face warms immediately.

"Thanks," she whispers, her voice suddenly feeling very weak. "They're beautiful." She adds, unable to hide her giant grin.

"I'm glad you like them." Peter replies, his face a dark shade of red.

"Amala?" Her mother calls from inside the house. "Is everything okay?"

Amala straightens her posture. "Uh- yeah! All good, we're coming."

She turns back to Peter and presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. "You're the cutest." She mumbles in his ear. "Also, hide your webs." She whispers.

Peter glows at her before looking at his hands. His web cuffs retract from his arms.

"Thank you." He says.

As he enters her house, Amala closes the door behind them.

Peter takes one large look at the house, his eyes doing a calculated sweep around the foreign space.

"Ready to meet my parents?" Amala teases.

Peter turns around and his face is still red. "No," he laughs. "I think I'm going to throw up."

Amala chuckles. "You'll be alright." She grabs his hand and squeezes. "I'm right here, anyways."

Peter returns the squeeze and smiles. "I know,"

She grins. "Come on, let's go."

Dinner ends up being a huge success.

Unsurprisingly, at least to Amala, Peter is an absolute charmer. His kind personality and pure outlook on life, combined with his hobbies and career goals, won her parents over. He said all the right things without laying it on too thick, making sure to answer any concerns Amala's parents might have had.

The entire time, Amala couldn't keep the smile from her face. Seeing Peter talk to her parents made her stomach crowd with butterflies — she had to steady her breathing several times as a result.

After dinner, Amala had excused her and Peter from the table. Her parents gave her a suspicious but humorous look and Amala had to beat any allegations like her life depended on it (they were going to sit on her balcony. That was all.)

Before stepping outside, Amala quickly snuck the velvet box in the pocket of her jeans.

Now, hand in hand, Peter and Amala watch the sky turn navy as they take in the evening air.

The moon peaks out from a blanket of clouds, casting a light illumination on the cityscape. The first dusting of stars can be seen, faint and light as ever. Cars honk down below, their sound muffled from this high up. There's a peace that floats through the air. One of softness and content.

Peter breaks the silence first. "I think they liked me."

Amala turns to look at him. "They did." she says as the moon glows against Peter's skin.

He smiles. "I'm glad. I was - well, I was really nervous."

"I know," Amala laughs. "But you were perfect."

"Was I?" He asks, unsure of himself.

All the raven does is nod.

She squeezes his hand and tugs him forward gently. Their faces are inches apart.

"Yes, you were." She mumbles before kissing Peter's lips.

He returns it immediately, his free hand coming to rest on her waist.

Suddenly, the world goes quiet and stops spinning. The stars become bright in the sky, the moon doubles in size. Cold wind turns almost warm, almost gentle.

Peter deepens the kiss by tilting his head and Amala gladly reciprocates his excitement. He tastes like moonshine and mint, coffee and toffee. His lips are familiar where they meet hers and they fall into a steady rhythm.

Kissing him feels like coming home, in a way. It fills Amala's chest with a warm feeling, an ember coaxed over a pile of burning saplings. Her limbs go pliant and her heart syncs with his. Her breathing evens even though it races and her heart explodes like the crackle of fireworks.

The whole universe begins and ends where they touch. Where their palms meet, a string of stars weave through their fingers. Where their chests touch, their solar system lays in its atomic distance. Between each breath of their kiss, the cosmos inhale.

Peter's hand sits at the base of her back, a steady anchor as they kiss. He makes light rubbing motions which sends Amala's skin tingling. His other hand squeezes her exposed waist and each touch has her body scattered in goosebumps. That hand moves down until his palms rests at the band of her jeans, his fingers ghosting over her behind.

Amala inhales sharply but it's swallowed by Peter's mouth. Involuntarily, she scoots back, desperate for more touch. But then Peter's hand caresses the box in her pocket and his motions stop.

They pull away, out of breath and frazzled.

Peter looks at her with batted eyes. "What's in your pocket?" He whispers.

Amala grins widely. "I don't know, why don't you find out?"

Peter's eyes sparkle with curiosity and his hand gently digs into her back pocket.

He takes out the velvet box, separating from Amala for a moment. He looks at her and receives a nod from Amala. Slowly, he opens the box. Inside, a beautiful silver ring is tucked into its cushion, a tiny ruby in its center.

"Is this..." Peter starts.

"I bought it in Venice and wanted to give it to you but... stuff happened." She explains. "I saw it and immediately thought of you."

"Amala..." he whispers, pulling it out of its box. "It's beautiful."

Amala exhales. "Good. I'm glad you like it."

He slips it on his right ring finger. "Like it? I love it, babe."

The raven can't fight back her face from turning red.

"You didn't have to get me anything." He adds, quieter this time.

"I know but I wanted to." She replies. "You gave me the pendent and the necklace and I gave you the ring. Now we have a part of each other."

Peter bumps his forehead against hers, his eyes locked on her.

Together, they stand for a moment, equal inhales and even breaths.

"Hey," Amala murmurs to break the silence.

"Hi." Peter replies with a soft laugh.

Amala looks at Peter for a moment before turning to look at the sky. The sun has officially set and the moon sits more pronounced behind a duvet of onyx.

A gentle hand tugs her back towards Peter and before she knows it, they're kissing again.

This time, it's much shorter. He simply presses his lips to hers for a couple seconds before releasing her face from his palm.

Amala can't stop the giggle from bubbling from her tongue. "What was that for?"

He shrugs. "You just - you're so pretty."

Amala hides her face in the crook of his neck, her cheeks on fire.

"What?" Peter laughs. "No need to get flustered. It's true!"

"Shut up!" She shouts into his neck, playfully smacking him on the chest.

He wraps his hand around her shoulder as he continues laughing.

"You know," Amala muses, a sudden feeling hitting her. "This balcony's kinda historic for us."

"What do you mean?" Peter asks.

"Well," she starts, nuzzling herself closer. "I met Spider-man here. Technically, you almost broke my window but you get the point."

Peter hums. "Oh, yeah,"

"Mhm," she continues. "You know, I was really scared when I heard you come. I thought you were a murderer or something!" She laughs softly. "But, I don't know — I just felt like I had to open the door. And I'm glad I did."

"I'm glad you did, too." He replies earnestly. "I didn't even check where I was going. I just needed to rest. When you opened the door, my first instinct was just to apologize and leave but..." He pauses.

"But what?"

He chuckles to himself. "But I thought you were so pretty. I mean, I couldn't get a word out without stuttering- which you know I already do! But I just- your eyes stared me down and you had a knife pointed at me and I just thought you were the most gorgeous girl I'd ever seen."

Amala cranes her neck to meet his eyes. "Seriously?" She mumbles, disbelief in her voice.

"Yeah," Peter says. "Some part of me didn't you to tell me to leave."

She inhales sharply. "Me neither."

Now it's Peter's turn to be shocked. "Yeah?"

Amala nods. "I won't lie, at first I wanted to put the knife through your skull but- you looked... so hurt. And you were apologizing so much and you sounded so sweet, I just- I couldn't do it."

"Well, thank you for not putting a knife through my skull." Peter says with a chuckle, though his voice is honest.

Amala snorts. "You're welcome," she says before she carefully adds," and uh... thanks for sticking around. You know, like coming back and stuff."

"Oh," Peter whispers. "Yeah, of course. I knew I had a massive crush on you the second time around. Actually- I had one way before that. Well- Peter did. I just mean - uh-" he cuts himself off and giggles.

"Spider-man had a crush on me the second time he almost broke into my window but Peter has since freshman year, I get it." She answers for him.

"Wait, how'd you know it was since freshman year?"

"Akira told me that Ned told her that you told him that a while back."

"Wow," he says, faux hurt in his voice. "He's really good at keeping secrets."

"What a guy, right?" Amala mocks.

"Totally."

They stare at each other and break out into a massive smile, chuckling to themselves. Their hands are still laced together and Amala feels him shake with laughter through it.

"Do you remember the last time I saw you here?" Peter inquires after a beat, his voice quiet.

The memory rushes through Amala in seconds. "Yeah." She mumbles, her throat suddenly dry.

"Did you mean it..." he hesitates. "When you said you liked me - uh, me as in Peter."

Amala looks towards the sky and chooses her next words. "Yeah," she confesses. "I did."

Peter tugs at her hand which forced them to lock eyes again. "Really?" He says, voice hoarse.

For a moment, she struggles to meet his eyes.

"Mhm," she hums. "I started liking you when we were doing that AP Bio project together."

All Peter says is, "oh."

The raven simply nods.

"I wanted to tell you. Like I wanted Peter to tell you that he liked you. But... I don't know. I guess I was afraid that you'd reject me." Peter says after a beat of tense silence.

"What makes you say that?"

Peter lets out a sad laugh. "I mean, come on, babe, who wouldn't want a hero over a random high schooler? People don't usually care about real connections or whatever bullshit."

"I would and I care." Amala says sternly.

"Yeah, but-"

"No." Amala interrupts. "I turned down Spider-man for you, Peter. That's how much I care." Her reply is met with silence so she adds, "don't get me wrong, I like Spider-man, too, but you're my favorite.

She waits for his reaction or his reply, but received none. For several seconds, all Peter does is look at her, his eyes burning through her entire visage.

Then, he's grabbing her face again and pulling her into a kiss. Unlike the other ones tonight, this one is urgent. His lips convey a message of a thousand words; you're perfect, thank you, I love you. His hands cup her cheeks, he tugs her into him until they're practically melting into each other. This kiss is different; it's raw and deep-rooted in emotion.

Amala stutters for a moment before pressing her hands against his clothed chest, feeling his pecks. Her lips chase his desperately, falling into a quick rhythm.

By the time it's over, both of their breaths are strained and their lips bruised. Peter's lips are glossy with spit and he licks them over once.

Time always stands still after moments like this, Amala realizes. It's a common occurrence when she's around Peter.

"I love you," Peter says suddenly, his breath ghosting over Amala's lips. "I really, really love you."

Amala's eyes widen and her heart beats erratically.

"You don't have to say it back right now," Peter says seconds later. "Or ever, if you don't want to. I just need you to know because I really love you and I don't understand what I did to deserve you. I-"

Her cheeks redden. "Peter-"

"You're perfect — in like every way possible. You're beautiful, and kind, and smart, and funny, and you care. You like me for me, which is — well, it's pretty great. So-"

"Peter!" Amala yells.

He goes silent.

Her hands are shaking but she grabs Peter by the face. They quiver as they make contact with his skin but her eyes never leave his.

"I love you, too." She says with a shy smile, her heart in her throat.

Peter's chest rises and falls. "You... you do?"

She hums. "I do."

He lets out an airy, relieved laugh. "I'm - good."

In an overflow of emotions, Amala takes her hands off of his face and wraps them around his torso, effectively squeezing him into a hug.

They stand there, Peter's hands in her hair, taking in the night air. Warmth flows into their veins, an exchange between bodies. His chest is hot and he smells like home, and everything is suddenly okay.

Amala isn't sure what's to come in the future. She's not sure when the nightmares will stop or when the scars on her body will fade. Yet, right now, it all seems insignificant. Because Peter is here and they're okay and for the first time since summer, Amala is truly content.

In hindsight, she should've known that getting involved with the city's most praised hero would lead to trouble. Some part of her should've run the second he came crashing at her door. She should've avoided all the trauma and hardship, shut it off the second it got difficult. Still, another part of her knows she would never do that, because she'd willingly relive every moment if it means getting here.

Perhaps, her gut just knew that when she first saw him, her fate would be locked.

When they release for their hug, their hands are still on each other. They turn towards the sky and lean against the railing. Together, Amala and Peter watch New York's streets come to life.

Amala's hand grazes over her necklace, the broken edges of the sun in the dent of her fingertips. The feeling of the gold in her right hand and Peter's palm in her left, ground her. She tugs the pendent to her lips and kisses it quietly. The metal is cool.

Something about tonight is monumental.

Amala shuts her eyes and breaths it all in; the crisp air and the summer leaves, Peter's cologne and yesterday's rain. She makes sure she commits it all to memory, from the warmth of her lover's touch to the cold railing against her skin.

One, two, three, she counts, mapping it out like a carpenter, storing it in the deepest, most sacred parts of her heart.

— END OF CHAPTER 32 —

[ note ]
hello friends :)

first of all, im so so
sorry for the wait!!!
i've been recovering from
a pretty big surgery and
could barely pick up my
phone until a couple days
ago!

anyways, i didn't want you guys
to wait any longer so here's 32!!!

hope you guys liked the unofficial
ending of the story (there's still an
epilogue left). i really enjoyed writing
this :)

thank you for 5K reads btw!!!! it's
insane and im so grateful 🤍🤍🤍

see you all soon for the final
chapter of when i first saw you,

pearl <3