"Holy shit, you're Peter Parker!" The words burst out of my mouth before my brain can catch up, my hands still gripping her shoulders.
She blinks at me, those hazel eyes widening slightly behind her glasses. "Piper Parker," she corrects with a small laugh. "But close."
"Sorry," I stammer, dropping my hands from Piper's shoulders and taking a step back. Sweat drips down my temple, and I'm suddenly hyper-aware of how disgusting I must look and smell. "I just had a tough workout."
I extend my hand, trying desperately to salvage this encounter. "I'm Shane Steele. I'm a huge fan of your photos for the Bugle. The Spider-Woman shots? They're incredible."
Piper's eyebrows shoot up as she tentatively shakes my hand. "You follow my photography?"
"Absolutely," I nod enthusiastically, my fanboy side taking over. "The way you capture her mid-swing, it's like you're right there with her."
If she only knew how right I know I am. The memory of our rooftop encounter flashes through my mind, her body language shifting, that dark patch between her thighs, and I feel my face heating up all over again.
"Thanks," Piper says, looking genuinely pleased but slightly uncomfortable with the praise. "I just get lucky sometimes."
The auburn-haired girl next to her clears her throat pointedly, and Piper jumps like she's been shocked.
"Oh! Sorry. Shane, this is my friend Harriet Osborn."
Harriet offers her hand with the practiced ease of someone who's been taught proper etiquette since birth. "Pleasure," she says, her voice carrying a hint of privilege that's impossible to miss.
As I shake her hand, something clicks in my brain. Osborn. As in Norman Osborn, the Green Goblin. Except here it would probably be something stupid like Norma Osborn.
"Nice to meet you," I manage, trying not to stare. Harriet's expensive-looking blouse and tailored slacks scream money, a stark contrast to Piper's thrift-store chic vibe.
"So you're taking self-defense?" Piper asks, nodding toward the gym behind me. "With Masters?"
"Yeah, first day." I run a hand through my sweat-dampened hair. "She's... intense."
"She's a legend," Harriet says with a smirk. "My mother, for whatever reason, insists on keeping her employed here. Something about 'exceptional talent being worth the attitude.'"
My eyebrows shoot up. "Wait, Oscorp funds the school?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.
Harriet studies me with renewed interest. "You know of my mother?" Her tone carries a mixture of suspicion and curiosity that makes me realize I need to backpedal fast.
"Well, I mean, the company's so big," I stammer, mentally kicking myself. "Everyone's heard of Oscorp. It's like... everywhere."
Piper clears her throat, shifting her weight as she adjusts her messenger bag. "We were actually just about to grab lunch," she interjects, her eyes darting between Harriet and me with what looks like mild concern.
"Oh, cool. I should probably go catch a quick shower first..." My stomach chooses that exact moment to unleash a growl so loud it might as well have its own zip code.
Harriet's laugh is unexpectedly warm and genuine. "Why don't you join us?" she suggests, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Piper here has a thing for guys who work up a good sweat. Isn't that right, Pipes?"
Piper's face turns a fierce shade of crimson. "That is absolutely not true!" she protests, glaring daggers at Harriet, who just smirks in response.
But then something strange happens. Piper's eyes drift down to my neck, where I can feel a bead of sweat slowly making its way along my collarbone. Her gaze lingers there, following the droplet's path with an intensity that makes my skin tingle.
She blinks rapidly, as if catching herself, and adjusts her glasses with a nervous hand. "But you do sound pretty hungry," she adds, her voice softening. "And I don't mind if you join us. The dining hall has great post-workout options."
My stomach growls again, making the decision for me. "Sure," I say, trying to sound casual despite my racing heart. "I'd be happy to eat with you."
Harriet laughs, but Piper's eyes flick back to my collarbone for a split second before she forces herself to look away.
*****
The dining hall is a massive, modern space with floor-to-ceiling windows that flood the room with natural light. Long tables stretch across polished concrete floors, and the smell of a dozen different cuisines mingles in the air. I follow Piper and Harriet through the buffet line, piling my tray with enough protein and carbs to feed a small family.
"Hungry much?" Harriet teases as we settle at a table near the windows. She delicately spears a piece of lettuce from her salad, the picture of refined eating habits.
"Harriet!" Piper suddenly exclaims, looking mortified. "You can't say that to a guy! You'll make him insecure or something."
Harriet rolls her eyes but offers me an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget not everyone appreciates my particular brand of humor."
I shrug, still chewing. "No worries."
Harriet's attention shifts to Piper, her expression softening. "Speaking of sensitive topics... how are you taking the breakup lately?"
Piper sighs, pushing her food around on her plate. "I mean... as well as I can, I guess."
"Wait, your going through a breakup?" I ask, suddenly very interested.
My inner comic book nerd starts doing backflips. Peter Parker belongs with Mary Jane Watson, it's one of those fundamental comic book truths, like Uncle Ben staying dead or Batman's parents getting murdered in Crime Alley. If Piper and this universe's MJ equivalent have split up, I can't let that stand. Marvel editorial screwed up this relationship enough in my world. I won't let it happen here too!
"Yeah," Piper says, adjusting her glasses. "I was dating someone in the acting department, Mario Jane."
"Ohhh, I've heard of him," I say, though it's only half true. I've heard of Mary Jane, not Mario, but close enough.
"You have?" Piper looks surprised. "He's not exactly famous yet."
"Well, I mean..." I backpedal, realizing my mistake. "I've heard his name around campus. People talk, you know?"
Harriet leans forward, her perfectly manicured nails tapping thoughtfully against the table. "I have an idea. How about you go out with Piper tonight, Shane? Help get her mind off the heartbreak."
"I'd love to!" The words fly out of my mouth before my brain can process what's happening.
Holy fucking shit. What did I just do?
I internally scream at myself, watching Piper's eyes widen behind those thick-rimmed glasses. I've completely flipped on my morals in under a second. I just told myself I wouldn't mess with Piper and Mario's relationship.
I'm a giant piece of shit... but how could I say no? She's cute, smart, and she's literally fucking Spider-Woman.
Piper blinks rapidly, clearly caught off guard. "Are you sure? I mean, we just met and…"
"I'd love to," I repeat, my voice somehow steadier than the hurricane of self-loathing and excitement whirling inside me. Another internal scream echoes through my skull.
Harriet claps her hands together, looking entirely too pleased with herself. "Perfect! Piper's been moping around for weeks."
Piper fidgets with her fork, clearly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. "Uhh... tonight at six?" she asks, looking at me with uncertainty in her eyes.
"Sure," I reply, trying to keep my voice casual despite the fireworks going off in my chest. "Want to meet in front of Richards Hall? That's my dorm."
"Sounds good," Piper nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.
"Great, sounds like a date!" Harriet exclaims with a laugh that's just a bit too triumphant.
Piper shoots her a death glare that could melt steel beams, but Harriet just grins wider, clearly pleased with her matchmaking skills.
I'm about to say something, when movement in my peripheral vision catches my attention. My eyes drift past Piper's shoulder, and my entire body freezes.
Walking past our table is a tall blonde woman in a fitted black blazer and jeans that hug curves like they were custom-made for her body. But it's her eyes that stop my breath in my lungs, piercing blue and focused with laser-like intensity on Piper.
Ellie Brock. Venom.
She is, without question, the most attractive woman I've ever seen in my life. Not in the conventional, approachable way that most people find appealing, but in the way a lightning storm is beautiful, dangerous, powerful, and absolutely mesmerizing.
Our eyes meet for just a fraction of a second as she passes, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward in what might be a smirk or a sneer, I can't tell which. A chill runs down my spine that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with something far more primal.
Then she's gone, disappearing into the crowd of students with predatory grace, leaving me staring after her like an idiot.