For 30+ Advance/Early chapters :p
atreon.com/ScoldeyJod
The campus of Empire State University wasn't just big; it was monumental. Grand, gothic-style buildings of grey stone loomed over manicured lawns, their archways like the open mouths of sleeping giants. It was the kind of place you saw in movies, the kind of place Peter felt he'd only been admitted to via a typo. He clutched the strap of his backpack, a flimsy shield against the tidal wave of newness.
A thousand different conversations washed over him, a cacophony of voices, footsteps, and phone chimes that made the low-level hum at the base of his skull buzz with irritation. His senses, a gift he usually kept on a tight leash, were straining against it, picking up fragments he didn't want: a girl three rows away worrying about a pop quiz, a guy near the fountain complaining about his roommate, the scent of three different brands of coffee and a cloud of overpoweringly sweet perfume. It was a sensory assault, and he felt his shoulders instinctively hunch, trying to make himself smaller.
He fumbled for his phone, pulling up a campus map that did little to orient him. The Biophysics building looked like it was on the other side of the planet. And his first lecture started in... seven minutes.
Perfect. The Parker Luck was punctual, at least.
He started moving, his walk a clumsy half-jog through the molasses-thick crowd. This was the part he was worst at—not the swinging between buildings, but the simple act of navigating a crowded sidewalk. He was a symphony of grace in the air, a car crash of limbs on the ground.
And then he saw her.
She wasn't doing anything remarkable. Just standing near the central plaza, looking at a course schedule, her brow furrowed in concentration. But in the chaotic sea of students, she was an island of stillness. She was tall, with a cascade of the blackest hair he'd ever seen, so dark it seemed to drink the autumn sunlight. Even in a simple pair of jeans and a university sweatshirt, she carried herself with an unconscious poise, a straight-backed grace that made everyone else look like they were slouching.
His brain, an entity that often worked against his own best interests, chose this exact moment to reboot. The map on his phone, the ticking clock, the destination—it all dissolved into irrelevant background noise. There was only the magnetic pull of this stranger who looked like she'd just stepped out of some ancient, epic myth.
Which is precisely why he didn't see the slightly raised cobblestone in his path.
One moment he was walking, the next his foot snagged, and the world pitched forward into a stomach-lurching, unrecoverable tilt. The faint buzz of his danger sense flared—a tiny, useless spark a half-second too late. It was the neurological equivalent of a smoke alarm going off after the house has already burned down. His coffee-deprived brain screamed a silent, elongated "Noooooo!" as he flailed, his backpack swinging wide, preparing for a full-body introduction to the ESU quad.
The impact never came.
A hand shot out and clamped onto his bicep. The force of it wasn't a jarring catch; it was an absolute negation of momentum. He stopped dead, his feet dangling for a comical second before finding the ground again. The strength in that grip was… wrong. It was like tripping and being caught by a marble statue.
Peter scrambled to right himself, a tidal wave of heat flooding his face. "Whoa, sorry, I—that was—thanks," he stammered, finally looking up at his savior.
And his brain rebooted all over again.
Up close, she was even more striking. Her eyes were a shade of blue so deep and clear it felt like he could fall into them, framed by thick, dark lashes. Her features were strong and elegant, a perfect balance of power and beauty.
"Are you alright?"
Her voice washed over him, warm and smooth, with a strange, melodic accent he couldn't begin to place. It didn't sound like it belonged in Queens. It sounded like it belonged to history.
"Uh, yeah. Fine. Totally fine," Peter managed, his voice cracking. He let out a nervous laugh. "Just me versus the ground. The ground usually wins. Thanks for the save. Seriously, you've got a grip like a… like a really strong person." Smooth, Parker. Real smooth.
A small, amused smile played on her lips, and it lit up her entire face. "The ground can be a formidable opponent. You should be more careful."
"Yeah, 'careful' is my middle name," he lied, adjusting the strap of his backpack. "It's Peter, by the way."
"Diana," she said. The name suited her perfectly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Peter."
For a moment, they just stood there. He was acutely aware of the warmth of her hand, which was still resting on his arm, a point of impossible calm in his chaotic world. He should say something else. Something witty. Something that didn't make him sound like he'd just forgotten how to use the English language.
But then he remembered. Dr. Connors.
His eyes shot down to his watch. "Oh, crap!" he yelped, the panic finally overriding his paralysis. "I'm so late. The lecture. I gotta—" He pointed vaguely in the direction of what he hoped was the right building. "It was really nice meeting you, Diana! And thanks again for, you know, defying gravity for me!"
He took off at a sprint, not waiting for a reply, the heat of embarrassment still burning on his neck. As he ran, dodging students with a newfound (and likely temporary) grace, he couldn't shake the feeling of her hand on his arm. It wasn't just a hand. It was the feeling of strength. Real, impossible, statue-like strength.
And for the first time that day, the anxious buzz in his head was replaced by something else entirely. Something a lot like wonder.