The people who lived here were either wealthy or powerful, many of them high-ranking officials of New York.
As the chief inspector of the Bronx, George Stacy naturally qualified to live here as well.
Walking into the community, Spider-Man noticed a large garden. The flowerbeds were bursting with color, each bloom competing for attention. He looked around, but no one was there. At this hour, people were either eating dinner at home or enjoying themselves elsewhere. Who would be wandering around the neighborhood for no reason?
Quickly, he picked a handful of flowers, stuffed them into his backpack, and looked up. The lights were on in Gwen's window. Wanting to give the girl he liked a surprise, Spider-Man made his move.
With a leap, he scaled the building and crouched outside the window of the twentieth floor, peering in. Gwen was lying on her bed, quietly reading a book.
From his angle, Spider-Man could see her bare feet so small they looked no bigger than the size of his palm. Her toes were long, fair, and delicate, ten little pearls lined neatly together, playfully curling as if they were dancing. Further up were her slender, shapely legs wrapped in sheer nude stockings, perfectly proportioned like those of a porcelain doll.
A wave of heat flared in Spider-Man's chest. He tapped lightly on the glass. Gwen looked up, dazed at first. When she saw him crouched outside her window, she jumped in surprise, then quickly ran over with a delighted smile, pulling it open with all her strength.
"Hi! How did you get up here?"
Spider-Man shrugged, flashing a sheepish grin and pointing to the iron ladder on the wall."The fire escape. Your security guard looks terrifying."
Gwen stepped back in disbelief."But this is the twentieth floor."
Spider-Man bent down and slipped in through the window with ease."That's nothing."
With his hands buried awkwardly in his pockets, he glanced around Gwen's bedroom. The room wasn't large, but it was neat and tidy, decorated in a simple Nordic style. One wall was filled entirely with books. Looking at Gwen, he asked,"This is your room?"
"Yes, this is my room."
Spider-Man pressed his lips together."You have a lot of books. And shoes."
Gwen said nothing, just quietly looked at him. They hadn't spent much time together, but some people were simply like that. Even if you had never met before, the moment you did, it felt as if you had been friends in a previous life. Being with them brought a sense of ease, where silence wasn't awkward and doing nothing together was never boring.
That was how Gwen felt to Spider-Man like a childhood friend reunited after many years apart.
Suddenly remembering something, he quickly took off his backpack."Oh, right. I brought these for your mom!"
He pulled out a bouquet of flowers, now somewhat crushed and stuck together from being stuffed inside.
Gwen's lips twitched, her brow lifting slightly as she smiled and accepted the bouquet."Oh, very pretty."
Spider-Man scratched his head apologetically."They were very pretty… a moment ago."
Unlucky. Nothing seemed to go smoothly today. In the afternoon he had upset Nova, and now in the evening his flower gift had turned into a mess.
But Gwen was understanding. She held the bouquet against her chest, lowered her head to take a sniff, and said softly,"They still smell wonderful now."
Spider-Man wasn't thick-skinned enough to pretend otherwise. He quickly grabbed the wilted flowers and stuffed them back into his backpack.
Gwen leaned forward to peek inside. Spider-Man's heart tightened his Spider-Man suit was still in there. He hurriedly pulled the backpack shut. Gwen, a little puzzled, asked,"Is your suit inside?"
It was Spider-Man's turn to be dumbfounded. He blinked his wide, innocent eyes at her."My suit?"
Gwen gave him a once-over and said,"The one you wear to dinner. Don't tell me you're planning to meet my parents dressed like this?"
Only then did Spider-Man realize his mistake. Growing up in the Bronx, surrounded by poor families with little education or by laborers who did heavy work, he had never learned that one was supposed to wear formal clothes when invited to dinner at someone's house.
After all, he had never once seen Ben Parker in a suit. Probably the only time Uncle Ben ever wore one was in his wedding photo with Aunt May.
Spider-Man scratched his head, feeling a sudden rush of embarrassment. This wasn't just about money it was about etiquette, about class. It was like discovering that a classmate you always treated as an equal, one you laughed and joked with, actually had parents who were high-ranking officials. Then one day, you're invited over, thinking being neatly dressed and clean would be enough.
Only to find out everyone else arrived in suits and ties.
Movies and novels often portrayed poor boys winning over rich girls as if it were nothing, but when it actually happened to him, Spider-Man could feel that stark gap between rich and poor pressing down on him.
Just as he was struggling to come up with a reply, the door to the room suddenly opened. A handsome middle-aged man in a black suit with a square face walked in."Darling…"
The words left his lips, but the moment his eyes fell on the unexpected figure of a boy standing inside his daughter's bedroom, his mind went blank. Honestly, he had never imagined this day would come so soon.
Spider-Man and the man locked eyes, both equally stunned. Gwen quickly turned, recognizing her father at the door.
The room sank into an eerie silence. Spider-Man could even hear his own heartbeat, and Gwen's sudden pause in breath.
George's sharp eyes swept over the boy. His clothes were plain, his looks decent enough, but clearly he was a nerd. His messy hair was so unkempt it nearly covered his eyes, giving him a disheveled, unimpressive appearance. Though he hadn't prepared himself for this moment, George still felt a flicker of disappointment when he realized this was the kind of boy standing in his daughter's room.
But fathers rarely find boyfriends good enough for their daughters. In their eyes, potential sons-in-law are natural-born enemies.
At last, George broke the silence."You must be Peter."
Gwen pressed her lips together, tugging at the hem of her shirt with her small hands, rocking slightly back and forth as she said,"Yes, Dad. This is Peter."
Then she glanced at Peter, who was still standing there frozen, and gave him a pointed look.
At first Spider-Man didn't understand, but two seconds later the hint clicked. He quickly stepped forward and extended his hand. Gwen's father's grip was firm, the kind that belonged to a steady, reliable man.
As he shook it, Spider-Man said,"Very nice to meet you, sir."
George, his face expressionless, replied,"I'm glad as well."
(End of Chapter)
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