[Midtown High – Biology Lab Hallway]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 10:48 a.m.
The hallway buzzed with chatter, lockers clanging open and shut, sneakers squeaking across the linoleum.
Ned gave Peter a nudge. "Alright, I'm heading to chem. Don't melt or anything."
Peter laughed nervously. "No promises."
Ned vanished into the crowd.
Peter exhaled, gripping the strap of his backpack, and turned to head out.
But before he could take two steps—
A hand gently grabbed his wrist.
He stopped.
Turned.
Riley.
She was closer now, way closer than she had been in class. Her fingers lingered around his wrist, like she didn't quite realize she hadn't let go.
Peter blinked. "Uh... hey?"
Riley looked up at him. Her voice was softer now, not teasing.
"You're not actually scared of me, right?"
He swallowed. "N-no. Why would I be?"
She smiled, but it was smaller this time. Honest.
"You act like I'm this... storm or something."
Peter scratched the back of his neck. "More like... a really cool storm. Like a safe one. Thunder's just... loud."
That made her laugh—but only a little. Then she looked down.
Still holding his hand.
She hesitated.
Then said, quietly:
"I meant what I said in class. You're smart."
Peter's heartbeat skipped. "Thanks. You too."
"Yeah," she whispered.
"Maybe that's why I like being around you."
He blinked.
She caught herself—eyes widened slightly.
"I mean for class. The project! For the project. You're... helpful. You explain things. Not like... like a nerd. Well, I mean, you are, but—"
Peter grinned. "I like being a nerd."
She laughed again. "Good."
A pause hung between them. Warm. Kinda electric.
Then, Riley stepped back. Let go of his wrist.
"Okay. Go, before I make this weird."
Peter tilted his head. "It's not weird."
Riley smiled—this time, fuller.
"I'll text you after school, okay?"
"Yeah. I'll wait for it."
As Peter turned to leave, she watched him go.
Then whispered under her breath, like a truth only the hallway walls were allowed to hear:
"I love you, Peter Parker..."
She touched the spot where her hand had held his—
and smiled to herself.
---
[Brooklyn Public Library – Front Entrance]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 4:25 p.m.
Peter was halfway home when his phone buzzed.
Unknown Number:
"Library. Same table. Don't make me come drag you."
He stopped walking. Eyed the screen.
How did she—?
He typed.
Peter:
"Uhh who is this??"
Unknown Number:
"Seriously?"
"It's Riley."
"Don't act brand new."
Peter:
"How'd you get my number???"
Riley:
"Ned."
"Now move your nerdy feet. I already got us the table."
"The one you sat at when we first met."
Peter stared at the message.
Heart: racing.
Palms: sweating.
Brain: buffering.
[Brooklyn Public Library – Second Floor Study Area]
Brooklyn, New York City
4:38 p.m.
He spotted her instantly.
Sitting exactly where he sat on May 23.
Same table. Same warm glow from the window.
Riley Green.
Notebook open. Pencil in her mouth. One leg up on the seat like she owned the place.
And like she'd been waiting for him.
Peter froze.
His brain flashed back to that day.
The top shelf.
Her asking for the book.
Their hands brushing—
That silence.
He shivered.
She saw him. Waved casually. "Hey, Parker. You okay?"
He walked toward her like he was approaching an alien spaceship.
"Y-yeah. Fine. Just, uh... library smells different today."
She raised a brow. "That's the best you've got?"
"Yep. That's my opening line."
Riley grinned. "10 outta 10."
He sat across from her.
She slid over a worksheet. "Punnett squares. Go."
Peter blinked. "No warm-up?"
"Nope. We're past that."
As he pulled out his pencil, she tilted her head. "You remember the last time we were here?"
"Like I could forget."
Her voice dipped, quiet. "Yeah... me neither."
Another silence crept in—but not awkward this time.
Familiar. Charged. Kind of... perfect.
They leaned over the paper together. Shoulders brushing.
Science had never been this intense.
---
[Brooklyn Public Library – Second Floor Study Area]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 4:38 p.m.
Peter sat down across from her, trying not to look like he was absolutely melting inside.
Riley didn't mention the hand thing. The hallway thing. The text thing.
She just slid a worksheet toward him and tapped her pencil on a blank Punnett square. "Alright, nerd boy. Teach me."
Peter blinked. "You sure? Once I start, I kinda go full-on science mode."
"I'll take the risk."
He smiled—half shy, half confident. Then pointed at the square. "Okay, so... let's say big A is dominant and little a is recessive. If one parent is Aa and the other is also Aa, then their kid has a—"
"Wait. Slow down." She leaned in, their heads closer now. "Aa means they both carry the trait, right?"
"Yeah. Exactly. But since 'A' is dominant, it only takes one to show up in the phenotype."
She blinked at him. "...Phenotype?"
"Like, the outward trait. The stuff you can see. Like eye color."
"Oh." She smiled. "So you're saying if I have brown eyes but my mom has blue, I'm basically winning?"
Peter laughed. "Pretty much."
Riley narrowed her eyes. "You're weirdly good at this."
"I mean, I do spend my weekends reading genome studies for fun."
"You just say things like that out loud?"
He shrugged. "Only to people who don't make me feel like a complete dork."
Her eyes lingered on him a second longer than normal.
Peter tried to focus on the worksheet—but he could feel it again.
That energy.
The way her shoulder brushed his.
The way she tapped her pencil when she was thinking, chewing her lip a little.
The way she smiled when he got excited explaining something.
"You ever wonder," Riley said softly, not looking up from the page, "why certain people end up working together?"
He glanced at her. "Like... science partners?"
She nodded slowly. "Yeah. Like maybe there's a reason."
Peter smiled faintly. "Maybe."
They kept working. Scribbling answers. Trading questions. Explaining. Laughing.
And when they finally finished the last square, Riley exhaled. "That was... kinda fun."
Peter smirked. "Told you. Nerd power."
She started gathering her things—but paused when he wasn't looking.
Watched him.
Studying him the way he studied Punnett squares.
Then, barely louder than a breath—
"I love you, Peter Parker..."
She looked away quickly. Tucked her hair behind her ear.
Peter hadn't heard her.
But he felt something.
Turned his head slightly, like he was catching an echo.
"What?" he asked.
Riley blinked. "Nothing."
She smiled again—soft, private.
"Thanks for coming."
---
[Green Residence – Dining Room, First Floor]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 7:11 p.m.
The table was set like every other Tuesday night—steaming pasta in the middle, garlic bread stacked high, and a bowl of over-salted salad courtesy of Evelyn's help.
"Did you double the salt again?" Max asked, chewing suspiciously.
Evelyn crossed her arms. "I was experimenting, Daddy."
Emily smirked from the kitchen. "Mad scientist vibes. You get that from your father."
"Hey," Max defended, mock-offended. "My science actually works."
Across the table, Riley twirled her pasta quietly.
Max noticed.
She hadn't touched her bread. Or made a single sarcastic jab at him in ten minutes.
"You good, Rye?" he asked, squinting like he was inspecting a suspicious element under a microscope.
"Huh? Yeah." She blinked out of her thoughts. "Totally. Just... tired."
Max leaned forward, elbows on the table, grinning. "Tired, huh? Or thinking about a boy?"
Riley's fork clanged against her plate. "What? No!"
Evelyn gasped. "Ooooh! Who is he?!"
"There's no he!" Riley insisted, but her ears had turned a definite shade of pink.
Emily raised an eyebrow with a small smile. "Mhm. And does this mystery not-boy have a name?"
"Stop," Riley muttered, burying her face in her hands.
Max chuckled. "Let me guess. Brown hair. Kinda scrawny. Super awkward?"
Riley peeked between her fingers. "How do you know that?"
Everyone froze.
Max threw both hands up like he just solved a case. "Ha! I knew it!"
"Ughhh, I walked right into that."
Emily laughed. Evelyn chanted, "Riley and mystery boy, sittin' in a tree—"
"Okay!" Riley cut in. "Enough! He's just... helping me with biology. That's all."
Max wiggled his eyebrows. "Helping with biology, huh? That's how your mom got me."
Emily threw a crouton at him.
Riley rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. "You're so annoying."
Max leaned back, smug. "You love it."
"Barely."
But her grin gave her away.
---
[Parker Apartment – Bedroom, Second Floor]
Queens, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 8:29 p.m.
Peter sat on his bed, legs crossed, textbook still open in front of him—but he hadn't turned a page in fifteen minutes.
Instead, he was replaying it.
The brush of her hand. The way she looked at him when he explained alleles. That soft laugh when he got carried away about dominant traits. That weird pause at the end, where it felt like she almost said something.
And... how did she get his number?
He glanced at his phone. No new messages. But her name was there now, saved under "Riley (Bio Project)."
He stared at it like it might blink first.
Then, lying back on the bed, he whispered to the ceiling:
"She's gonna kill me one day…"
And maybe...
He didn't mind.
---
[Green Residence – Home Lab]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 10:43 p.m.
The room was dim but alive—holograms glowed, circuits pulsed, and quiet techno-chatter echoed as Max Green worked alone at his sleek, custom terminal. The evolving core of the S.C.D. flickered ahead, and he barely blinked—completely absorbed.
Until—
Tiny footsteps. Soft. Sneaky.
Then a sudden pair of arms wrapped around him from the side.
"Guess whoooo?" came a familiar voice, already nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder.
Max smiled instantly. "Hmm... Evelyn?"
A gasp. "Rude."
He turned to find Riley, barefoot, wearing one of her oversized pajama shirts, hair a mess, face glowing with a mischievous grin.
"Oh. You."
She held on tighter. "Me. Your favorite."
Max laughed under his breath. "You're supposed to be in bed, you little sneak."
"But you were working," she said softly, now climbing onto the edge of his desk like it was a couch. "And I missed you."
He exhaled, loosening a wire in his hand, letting it fall. "You saw me literally three hours ago."
"Not enough," she mumbled, leaning her head on his shoulder now, sitting sideways. "You're always in here now."
Max looked at her—really looked—and something in her eyes made his chest tighten. That little girl who used to fall asleep on his lap while he worked... hadn't vanished after all.
"C'mere," he said, tugging her into a side hug.
She melted into it instantly, arms around his middle, cheek pressed against him. "Don't work too much, okay?"
"I'll try."
She looked up at him now, big soft brown eyes shining. "Promise?"
He smirked. "Only if you promise not to hack into my tech again."
Riley smiled guiltily. "No promises."
He raised an eyebrow.
She giggled and kissed his cheek. "Love you, Dad."
He held her a little closer, whispering, "Love you more."
Then—he caught her hand inching toward the glowing interface.
"Riley—"
"Okay okay okay! I'm going!" she squeaked, slipping off the desk like a little escape artist.
But just before she bounced out of the room, she spun around, pointed to a small sketch on the table—AR.I.S. between cartoon figures of her and Peter.
"That was yesterday," she teased, smug. "You were jealous of Peter, huh?"
Max squinted, trying not to smile. "Out."
She laughed, blew another kiss, and skipped away—barefoot, happy, loved.
---
[Green Residence – Upstairs Hallway → Riley's Room]
Brooklyn, New York City
June2, (2015)
Tuesday, 11:12 p.m.
The coast was clear.
Riley tiptoed past the glowing corner of her dad's home lab, holding her breath. Her fingers clutched a small stack—three slim tech modules with faint Stark signatures, half-disassembled, all humming softly.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
She darted down the hallway, quiet as a whisper, and slipped into her room—click. Locked.
Inside, her room was a universe of its own—glow-in-the-dark stars, half-drawn schematics taped to her wall, an old Iron Man poster above her desk, and her side of the room glowing with her custom light strips. She flipped her lamp on low, crawled onto her beanbag, and emptied the tech onto her carpet.
"Okay, you little secrets," she muttered with a grin, tying her hair up, "Let's see what you're hiding."
She grabbed her tiny toolkit—something Max didn't know she'd built—and started unscrewing one of the smaller modules.
Every now and then, she'd glance at her phone, where she had an old Stark blueprint half-screenshot from some obscure forum. She didn't fully understand all the code yet, but her instincts told her this wasn't just basic power tech. It was way more complex. And alien... maybe Chitauri?
Her eyes lit up with excitement. "Ohh Dad, you really shouldn't leave stuff like this where I can reach it."
Then she paused—smiling softly to herself.
Because this? This was their bond. The tech. The tinkering. The secrets.
Even if he'd scold her later, even if he pretended to be mad—he'd be proud. And she loved that.
She held up a node, examined it under her desk lamp, and whispered:
"You'd be freaking out if you knew..."
And kept working, quietly building her own little revolution.
---
[Green Residence – Riley's Room]
Brooklyn, New York City
June 2, (2015)
Tuesday, 12:38 a.m.
A soft, purplish glow lit Riley's face.
She sat on the floor, hunched over her workbench with wide, gleaming eyes. Scattered tools, open blueprints, and torn notebook pages covered the surface like a storm had hit it. At the center—her creation.
A sleek glove—small, custom-built—fitted for her hand. In the palm: a small embedded Chitauri core, no bigger than a coin, pulsating with alien energy. Her fingers trembled as she secured the final connection.
Click.
The glove buzzed to life. A soft hum. The purplish glow intensified, casting faint shadows on the walls.
Riley's mouth parted into a grin. "C'mon, baby... don't explode."
She pointed her hand toward the closet.
Fzzz—ZSHHH!
A compressed pulse of energy shot out. It struck the door and fizzled into a faint, glowing mark—scorched, but not destructive.
Riley's jaw dropped. "Oh. Ohhh yes—YES!"
Suddenly—
Knock-knock.
She froze. Eyes wide.
The door creaked open.
Emily peeked in, her voice still groggy but firm. "Did something just power up in here? Sounded... alien."
Riley whipped off the glove and shoved it behind her back. "Momma! H-hi. Nope. Just... just watching sci-fi! With... sound effects! Really immersive."
Emily stared at her.
Then glanced at the faint scorch on the closet door.
Then back to Riley.
"Riley Jade Green... what did you build?"
Riley folded her hands in front of her and gave the most innocent pout she could muster. "Please don't tell Dad. I promise it's safe. I triple-checked everything."
Emily sighed. Stepped into the room. She didn't ask again. She just looked around—tools, energy residue, gloves—and then at Riley.
"Don't blow up the house."
Riley lit up. "So I can keep working on it?!"
"No. I said don't blow up the house," Emily repeated. "And don't let Evelyn near it either."
"Deal!"
Emily turned around, then paused at the door. "...That's Chitauri tech, right?"
Riley smirked. "Technically just a core. I did the rest."
Emily shook her head and walked off, muttering something about "you're just like your dad."
The door clicked shut.
Riley spun around, dropped to the floor, and hugged the glove.
"I knew these blueprints would come in handy... One month of work and finally... YES."
She slipped it back on and stared at the glow.
Her own repulsor. Not Stark's. Not anyone else's.
Hers.
---
[Parker Residence – Peter's Bedroom]
Queens, New York City
June 3, (2015)
Wednesday, 12:38 a.m.
Peter snored softly, one arm over his head, legs tangled in the blanket.
A goofy smile tugged at his lips.
In his dreams, Riley was grabbing his hand again. That laugh. That stubborn look she gave him. That purple light behind her eyes...
And absolutely no idea that his crush had just built alien-powered tech in her room.
---
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