"No need to reply—I'm texting with one hand, can't see your message."
Peter Parker's second text pinged quick.
Ronan raised a brow.
He could picture Peter's pose right now.
Chatting up the "she-devil" while feeding intel to his crew.
Tsk tsk tsk.
Like he's stuck playing nice with the villain for the team's sake.
Mind and body on the line.
Ronan's face twisted weirdly at the thought.
"She's super into you—keeps asking if you're different from others."
"And she seems to—"
The message cut off. Ronan flicked a glance at Peter.
Still laughing with Cindy Moon—no need to stare longer.
Dealing with a "she-devil" can get dicey, right?
Fine—kid's really growing up.
As Ronan marveled at Peter's glow-up, the bus eased to a stop.
Martha popped up front, dropping a bombshell of good news.
The class cheered—whistles, shouts, claps—then filed off in order.
Ronan quit spawn-camping, smashed the enemy nexus, and stood.
His eyes met Peter's midair for a split-second.
Peter winked; Ronan grinned and nodded.
All chill, all normal.
Last off, Ronan stepped down. Gwen Stacy and Martha waited by the bus.
"I'm the straggler—no more waiting."
He grinned at Martha.
"Haven't thanked you for showing up—giving me some cred."
Martha smiled back, and the trio strolled forward.
"Your take makes me sound like a lone wolf."
Her words caught Ronan off guard.
Was he that hard to drag out?
"You didn't know?"
"Before Cindy Moon transferred, you were the school's ice king."
"Plus 'heartthrob' tacked on."
Martha gawked, like you didn't know?
Ronan gawked harder.
He shot a look at Gwen Stacy, stifling a laugh. She nodded, confirming it.
Martha wasn't bluffing.
"When'd I get that rep?"
Ronan's mouth twitched.
Cold, quiet girls get "ice queen."
Guys? That's not "ice king"—it's "broody CEO."
"Since you flattened Leon's crew."
"Your old tag was 'silent—'"
Martha paused, eyeing Ronan.
His shrug said go on.
"Uh… 'silent wimp.'"
Hiss...
Ronan sucked in a breath.
Good thing he'd tuned out school gossip—or he'd have hunted down whoever coined that for a "chat."
Wimp?
Look at this face, these guns, this casserole-sized fist—wimp?
"Of course, after you one-punched Leon's gang, that fizzled."
"Swapped for 'ice heartthrob' vibes."
Martha's "Leon"? The football goons who tried bullying Ronan.
Yup—still quake when they see him.
"Thank heavens for that."
Ronan rolled his eyes, pinching Gwen Stacy's cheek under Martha's near-laugh.
Martha's grin vanished.
Replaced by a sour dog-food overload face.
She flung white-hot glares at the "gross couple" and bolted.
Screw that mush!
Watching Martha flee, Gwen Stacy cracked up.
She knew Ronan did it on purpose!
So what? They're a lovey-dovey duo!
---
Villa lawn.
By the time Ronan and Gwen Stacy rolled in, folks were already sprawled out, itching to start.
Everyone's eyes screamed "get on with it."
Not for the book club—for the party after.
Book club? Hour and a half. Party? Goes late.
"Hey, Ronan, over here."
Peter waved them over, flagging empty spots.
He'd snagged seats already.
Ronan nodded, leading Gwen Stacy to sit by him.
Spotting Cindy Moon next to Peter, Ronan got the memo.
"Hi."
"Ronan Yao, Peter's friend."
He smiled at Cindy Moon.
"Hi."
"Cindy Moon, also Peter's friend."
She nodded, ice-face unchanged.
Gwen Stacy? They'd met—names known, no intros needed.
Greetings done, both sides zipped it, quietly soaking in others' book takes.
How to put it—this "study vibe" didn't click for most.
Ronan scanned—party kids, not bookworms.
The real readers? Up front, sharing.
Ronan sighed inwardly.
Martha's knack—or family coaching?
Right people, right jobs—grasping that young? Impressive.
Party-chasers slogged through the "endless" book club for the payoff.
Top students? This was résumé gold.
Win-win.
Troublemakers?
No sweat—if they dared cross Martha, the "student leader" with school backing.
She'd "slaved" for sponsors, all for classmate perks.
Even if the sponsor was her family's firm.
Ronan tuned into the sharers, his senses fanning the field.
No shock—Cindy Moon was sneak-watching him.
Casual glances, head-tilts with Peter, peeks at Gwen Stacy that grazed him.
Without knowing her game, he'd think she was into him.
Those looks? Easy to misread.
He caught it via senses, but Gwen Stacy noticed too.
Woman's gut—or something else.
She hooked his arm, staking her claim.
Too bad Cindy, fixated on Ronan's secrets, missed the memo.
She kept sneaking peeks.
Gwen Stacy's limit hit.
Before she could snap something blunt, Ronan cut in.
He whispered two lines in her ear. She froze, then burst out laughing.
A light tap on his arm, a playful glare.
Like he'd dropped a flirty zinger, teasing a blush.
Reality? Nope.
He'd said Cindy Moon's fishy—targeting Peter, scoping him.
And to play it cool, not tip her off.
That's why Gwen blanked, then rolled out the act.
Her performance floored Ronan.
Women—born actresses?
That micro-expression switch? Took him years to master.
Gwen Stacy? Pro-tier.
Ronan gulped.
Scary stuff!
He'd stopped her to keep Cindy in the dark.
Gwen's mild, sure, but that American boldness still peeked out.
"She's really off?"
Once Cindy looked away, Gwen whispered.
Curiosity piqued.
"Yup—Peter tipped me."
"She might have… unusual tricks."
Ronan kept it vague; Gwen got it instantly.
She blinked, didn't glance at Cindy, just leaned on his shoulder.
---
Book club wrapped. Folks milled around, then sunset hit—party time.
"Pros" rolled in, decking the yard.
No-booze drinks, buffet spread, DJ—full kit.
America's party game's so slick, guests just vibe.
Even cleanup's handled.
Pure enjoyment, no fuss.
Ronan didn't hate parties, but it proved the saying:
Joy's theirs—he just found it loud.
Swaying to beats in the dance pit? Meh.
The cloud-puffers? Mind-boggling.
Then he recalled—last life, that stuff went legal in New York. Streets reeked of it.
Weirdness faded.
Free America, huh.
Too free.
An hour in, Gwen Stacy bowed out.
Her dad didn't want her home late.
Martha knew George Stacy—green-lit it fast.
Ronan, her "knight," tagged along.
Before splitting, he peeked at Peter chatting with Cindy Moon, brow ticking.
Nighttime New York? Crime heaven.
This rich zone's decent, but past the gates? Luck's your shield.
Martha'd lined up cars for that.
Ride dropped them at Gwen Stacy's door.
After a sweet goodbye, Ronan waved off the driver's offer.
Not for exercise.
He wanted a face-off with Cindy Moon.
Yup—she'd trailed him, parkouring across rooftops.
Couldn't dodge his radar.
She craved his secrets? Fine—Ronan, pure-hearted soul, would oblige.
Show her how outmatched she was.
And teach her—solo-stalking's dumb for a girl.
Guys need to stay sharp out there too.
Thugs everywhere—lone wolves risk it.
So, kind Ronan ducked into an alley.
Cue Cindy Moon's "lesson."
Sure enough, as he turned in, she followed.
She landed silent on the wall—then froze.
Ronan, mid-stride, faced her dead-on.
Her spider-sense exploded!
"Look who's the cute little stalker."
"Guess she doesn't know how rough the world can get."