ALIAS ? Peter Parker?

10. Only The Dead Rest

"Puberty." I nod, pushing down a smile as he wrinkles his nose. So far, Alex has been spared having to deal with it, as his older brother passed him, and until now, his other siblings were too young. "A tricky bitch. Tell me when she gets her perio-"

"As much as I'd love to discuss this," Alex interrupts, causing me to giggle a little. " I've really gotta pee."

"Don't trip," I call out as he climbs down the bleachers. He waves me off with a middle finger, and I match him.

"Very lady-like." A voice calls out, belonging to none other than Jonathan Rockwell. Oh, fuck me.

Pulling my coat closer to me, I look at him briefly before turning back to the field. Jackie flies across the field to the goal, or what I think is the goal. "I haven't said anything."

"I know," He swallows, shifting his weight.

What the hell do you want? I think, but all I say is okay.

"I need you to do me a favor." He says. I look at him, maintaining a neutral expression, contrasting the blaring alarms in my head. "I need you to be my date to a thing my parents are hosting."

Either I've badly misconstrued our last conversation(and our entire relationship), or he's high. Seeing his blank face, I shake my head and begin collecting my things. This is a whole level of nope I can't deal with, especially on only a few hours of sleep.

"Just for like a day- you're not even going to actually be my girlfriend. Just for pretend, it's not like you're going to be busy," He interjects, grabbing my bag before I can. Right now, he's so fucking lucky I can't electrocute him in public. "It's just for one evening, and we don't need to do anything. My parents are having a dinner party, you just need to stand there, smile a little, go sit in my room for a few hours."

Yanking my bag back, I shake my head. "No."

"Come on, it's not like you could do much better than me." He scoffs, only encouraging my retreating. Pulling on my hand, he doesn't let me leave. Fingers clenched into a fist, I hold down both sparks and panic. Quickly realizing his mistake, he drops my hand, and I pull it back to my chest. He runs his hand through his hair. "It's just for two hours. I'll pay you."

Now's my turn to scoff, but honestly, I consider it.

"I'll leave Peter Parker alone for a week." It catches my attention, but it's weak. "Please, you're my only option."

"Hard pass." I snort, arms crossed.

"A week and a half."

Pondering the options, I sit back down on the cool bleachers. "Don't fuck around with anyone for a month and a hundred bucks."

"Everyone except Keith Donalds, James Rollings, and Margot Yew."

"Ninety, keep Keith and James." They were asses, unpopular, uncool asses, but asses.

"Deal." Using his knee, he writes down some words on a piece of paper and hands it to me. He cocks his head back as I raise my palm for payment. Eyes narrowing, he laughs. "Yeah, right, Foster. You'll get paid after." Turning the edge of my lips, I begin to stand up, then he digs into his jean pocket. Fishing out a heavily stacked wallet, he begrudgingly puts a few twenties and a five in my hand. "Half now, half later."

"Fine." Stuffing the bills into my pocket, I crouch down back into my seat, gaze fixed on the field.

"Say anything and I'll-"

"Beat me up?" Bitter laughter comes out of my mouth, turning his gaze downward. "A bit too late for those kind of threats."

"Yeah." He swallows, then grabs a red ball that rolled under the bleachers and knocks over my backpack. Sighing, I shoot him a defeated look as I pick up a folder that fell out. A cruel smile on his lips, he tucks the ball under his arm. "I needed a reason to come over here."