On the Watson house veranda, Mary let go of my hand as soon as we stepped outside. She settled against the railing, her gaze lost in the colors of the sunset. The quiet seemed delicate, almost sacred, so I stopped a few steps away, watching the light flicker through her scarlet hair, setting off tiny flames where it touched.
For a long moment, neither of us said anything; I was content to take in the beauty of the evening and the way Mary belonged in it.
"Is there something on my face?" Mary teased, breaking the spell with a burst of laughter.
"Only beauty," I said, and for once, the compliment left my lips without embarrassment.
She rolled her eyes, but her grin lingered. "Here I was, convinced that shy, quiet Peter Parker couldn't flirt his way out of a paper bag. I'm impressed, Tiger."
"Everything changes, Miss Watson. Since we're having ourselves a walk, may I offer my company to the nearest park?" I asked, formal but playful as I extended my hand.
Mary considered me for an extra heartbeat, then placed her hand in mine. "I'd be delighted, Mr. Parker. That tailcoat suits you, by the way."
"And that dress looks absolutely stunning on you," I replied, the scene unfolding like a waltz. We wandered through the evening streets of Queens. Stories and inside jokes tumbled out with the warmth of old familiarity.
"I had no idea there was a park in Queens," Mary said. "As a kid, I had to pedal for kilometers just to find some proper green."
"The last mayor started a project, said 'A tree oasis in every corner of New York.' You should see his campaign posters," I replied and threw my arms wide, mimicking political grandeur.
Mary's laughter faded a little as she looked down at her shoes. "It wasn't like this in my old city," she admitted quietly.
I felt the shift and stepped closer, gently placing my other hand over hers in comfort. "Everything alright?" I murmured.
Mary seemed to shake off the shadow. "Everything's fine, Tiger, don't worry," she said with a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.
Turning into the park, the world softened. We chose a bench beneath a chestnut tree, letting the cool air settle in around us.
"By the way, why 'Tiger?'" I asked, genuinely curious as dusk thickened.
Mary laughed—a soft sound this time. "Don't you remember?"
"Not really."
"We were five, walking near our neighborhood, and you stopped so suddenly I nearly crashed into you. You pointed up in a tree—there was a stray cat, purring, but it looked so sad."
"And?"
"You tried climbing up after it. I told you to call someone, but you didn't even hear me, just started up the branches, even though you were terrified of heights."
I grinned. "Maybe my heroic side took over for once."
Mary nudged me with her elbow. "Anyway, you got close, tried to grab the cat—and, just as you reached out, the thing freaked out and jumped out to safety. You lost your balance, slipped, and fell. I was really scared for you that day."
"So I was never much of a hero, not even as a kid?" I joked, rubbing the back of my neck, a little self-conscious at her memory.
"Not true," she said, her face changing as she searched mine for something. "You were brave. You didn't listen to anyone, you just wanted to help. That's why I called you Tiger—because you had that reckless courage in your eyes." Mary's hand reached over and squeezed mine, and for a second, the world felt small and safe.
"It's sweet," I whispered, suddenly hyper-aware of how close she was, the sharp citrus of her perfume filling the space between us.
Mary smiled. "I bet they're wondering where we are."
"I think dessert was mentioned," I managed, voice a little hoarse.
Mary Jane's eyes sparkled. "Ready for dessert, Mr. Parker?"
"Suddenly I'm feeling hungry," I answered, half-distracted. We walked back quietly, my mind a jumble of confident thoughts and the anxious, idiotic urge to lean over and kiss her.
Was it too soon? Probably. Of course, we'd known each other as kids, but there had been a decade between then and now.
"Peter! Pete!" Mary nudged me out of my reverie.
"Sorry, Mary—I was distracted," I mumbled, embarrassed at having ignored her for half the walk.
"We've arrived," she said, pausing at the door, the warmth in her voice unmistakable.
"MJ!" I called, almost too urgently.
She turned to me, one eyebrow arched in question.
"I just… I wanted… if you ever need help with studies or anything, maybe you could… give me your email or phone number?" God, could I be any more awkward? My voice cracked and stumbled.
Mary's response was instant and bright. "Here's my email, and my number," she winked, scribbling them down. "Text me whenever you want."
"By the way are you busy tomorrow?"
"Not at all. The whole day's open."
"I know a great café—maybe I could pick you up at five? We'll have a walk, maybe get something sweet."
"With pleasure, Tiger," she whispered, and for the first time in ages, I felt courage, real courage, growing in my chest. With what I was sure was the world's most ridiculous grin on my face, I headed inside.
"Kids, you're just in time for dessert," Aunt May called out, balancing a tray of ice cream scoops with practiced ease.
"How was your walk, Peter?" Uncle Ben asked, his eyes twinkling.
"Yeah… Um…" I stammered.
May and Ben exchanged glances.
"We went to the park and had a wonderful time," Mary said smoothly, the perfect rescue.
"Then I'm sure you're both hungry. Help yourselves!" May winked, nudging Ben and handing Mary a bowl with a motherly smile.
After we said goodbye to the Watsons that evening, Ben and I walked back through the soft night air.
"Looks like you and Mary had fun?" Ben elbowed me with a wide grin.
"Yeah. I even asked her out for tomorrow, to show her some of the city," I admitted, rubbing the back of my neck, trying to hide how nervous I felt.
He laughed, full and booming. "No need to make excuses, champ. I'm glad you're finally taking some initiative."
May caught up, her emotions bubbling over. "I'm so happy for you, sweetheart," she gushed, pulling me into a bear hug—strong enough to knock the wind out of me.
"Air, Auntie… please…" I gasped, playfully.
"Don't pretend—let your old aunt spoil you for once!"
Ben quickly chimed in, "Hey, no calling her 'old!' You are just hitting your prime."
Hurried laughter and joking filled the night as we walked the last blocks home. For the first time in years, I felt like I belonged exactly where I was—ready, maybe, for whatever tomorrow held.
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