Long Island, Hardy Manor.
When Peter landed in the garden behind the mansion, his shoes sank into wet grass.
He immediately let go of Felicia.
"We're here."
Once Felicia had her footing, she looked down at her clothes.
Her black tracksuit was dusty, and a patch of mud still clung to the edge of one boot.
She looked up.
Peter had already taken half a step back.
His red-and-blue Costume stood out in the moonlight, but the white Goggles on his mask had narrowed to two slits.
"Are you really not coming in for a while?" Felicia asked.
"No."
"We have coffee."
"Coffee at night keeps you awake."
"We have red wine."
"Minors can't drink."
Felicia stared at him.
"I'm eighteen."
"Only just eighteen," Peter quickly added. "Besides, I have to get home. Aunt May said if I'm not home by ten, all I get for breakfast the next morning is oatmeal."
"Spider-Man is afraid of oatmeal?"
"It's not fear," Peter explained earnestly. "It's a form of respect developed over a long-standing family relationship."
Felicia said nothing.
She stood there, her high blond ponytail swaying gently in the night breeze.
Earlier, up on that skyscraper, she had closed her eyes.
But this guy had put his mask back on.
Growing up, Felicia had met far too many people who tried to get close to her.
Some brought flowers, some drove sports cars, and some even deliberately pretended not to care about her at parties.
But she had never given any of them a chance.
Today, she had handed Peter his chance on a silver platter.
And the guy had run.
Faster than he would have dodged a rocket.
"Peter," Felicia said.
"Yeah?"
"Did you really not want to kiss me back there?"
Peter stiffened.
Behind his Goggles, his eyes began