Peter's eyes won't stop flitting to the pool exit from his pool deck chair, the sounds of his friends and fellow decathlon teammates taking turns diving into the water and splashing one another. He probably looks anxious— like he's hesitant to take his shirt off and cannonball into the water with the rest of them— but Peter's more preoccupied with Vulture and what the villain could be doing with every passing minute.

He'd been this close to sneaking out of the hotel, having left the weird, alien glowy-thingy with Ned in their room so he could don his suit and investigate. However, Liz had intercepted him in the hall and forced him to put on his trunks to join the team for a late-night swim. "A rebellious group activity the day before competition is good for morale," she'd said, and he couldn't say no.

Hence why he's stuck in an uncomfortable deck chair, mentally debating whether he should fake feeling sick and steal off into the night, but you plop yourself right beside his chair and just stare.

"What?" he asks while your brow raises, and he can immediately feel himself flush as your gaze turns scrutinizing. "What is it?"

You're worse than Flash; he's a jerk, but he leaves Peter alone after a while. You, on the other hand, you're a jerk and you're nosy. Always in people's business, always needing to know the newest rumors and secrets at Midtown High so you can share them on your blog.

He's had too many close calls with you, ranging from changing out of his suit in the halls to lifting things that he feasibly shouldn't be able to lift. He knows you know that there's something up, and that his sudden insistence to rejoin Midtown High's Academic Decathlon team after weeks of skipping is fishy.

And "PARKER IS THE SPIDER!" does not need to be your blog's next headline.

"What?" he asks again, waiting for you to elaborate or to call him some name that'll make his heart flutter. Because of course he has a crush on you too— the kid who's actively trying to expose his superhero identity.