The Weight of Us ｡ Peter Parker [3]

9 - Inside His Head

"So, are you and Parker screwing yet?"

Cherry Coke dribbled down my chin with the bold question from Clayton Cole, who looked across at me with a bored expression. My attempt at trying not to choke on my drink was for nothing, my lungs drying up and my throat feeling like it was shrinking.

Buttercrust was a loud and chaotic mess today; kids screaming and waiters rushing around with glasses and plates. Chefs were calling out orders from the kitchen and customers were impatient, a few even glaring across at the bus boy who was taking a break in a middle of the rush. Clayton still wore his apron and he was painfully aware of how busy his family restaurant was, but he simply could not care enough.

Mary Jane Watson looked up from her notebook with huge eyes, her pen dangling from her fingertips. Her fat script was propped onto the table as she was in the middle of writing down her lines for her upcoming musical on broadway. In high school she had written down her lines to help memorise them, it seemed the habit had continued into her adulthood too. "What kind of question is that, Clayton?"

"A simple one." Clayton shrugged, eyes drawing back to me. He leaned forward in his seat, his lips circling around the straw of his own drink and taking a sip. Without looking away from me, he smirked a little bit. "Are you or are you not having sex with Peter Parker?"

My cheeks flushed. "I don't really think that's any of your business."

Clayton rolled his eyes. "I'm your best friend, you can tell me."

Mary Jane deadpanned. "You're not her best friend."

"Don't act all surprised, Mary Jane," Clayton smirked some more. He stole a fry from her plate and popped it into his mouth. "I'm your best friend too."

"You are very delusional." Mary Jane mumbled, but she was smiling. Clayton Cole had been a stranger in the background of our sophomore year once upon a time, but weirdly, somehow he had been burned into our hearts like a plague. Nowadays, he was the boy who made sexual jokes in our group and walked me home when Peter was too busy. He was the friend I rambled on and on about Grey's Anatomy with, and the person who made me smile even on the darkest of days. He may not have been my best friend, that belonged to the three people who had grown up with me, but he was very close to it.

Clayton relaxed back into his chair, chewing on his bite of food. "If we can't talk about sex, what kind of friends are we, girls?" Clayton said, half joking. With the statement though, it had my mind wandering to another girl who used to sit across from me and ask the tough questions. "Mary Jane's totally screwing Osborn. Why aren't you losing your virginity?" Clayton asked me.

My eyes drifted to the window, watching the busy street. Mary Jane dropped her pen finally, her lungs filling with air before sighing deeply. "Firstly, nobody believes in the concept of virginity anymore. That's a social construct to degrade women, by thinking they are somewhat impure because they've slept with somebody." Mary Jane's eyes flashed, her courage seeping through. "Secondly, I am not sleeping with Harry. We're friends."

"Friends who occasionally fu—"

Busy New Yorkers hurried along the street; many consumed by their phones, or listening to music. People from all over the world, with complicated lives and deep thoughts. Some tall, some skinny, some with brown eyes and some with blue. So many people. My mind was so consumed with escaping this current conversation, that my eyes unfocused a little bit. Suddenly, across the road, I thought I saw her. Gwen Stacy.

"...and who are you sleeping with, Mr. Bigshot?" Mary Jane grumbled, voice sour. "The last time I checked, you were trying to get Michelle to fall in love with you, but failing miserably. Why don't you come back to us when you're actually in a relationship."