Behind the Mask

My cheeks were clammy from resting against my arm for so long. I squinted my eyes shut tighter before I opened them due to the sunlight beating on me.

I lifted my head and discovered myself to be in a bed, specifically Chase's bed. It caused me to panic a little. We've never gone far enough to sleep in the same bed together. He usually puts me on the sofa. What does that mean happened last night?

I couldn't remember, and it scared me even more. Chase was still asleep, his bare back facing me. I grabbed at my chest, relieved to find I was still wearing my bra and tank top. I still had my jeans on, too.

The panic wore away, and it was replaced with pain. My head throbbed like someone was playing a giant drum inside of it as it pulsed evenly. I pressed my palm to my forehead, trying to ease the pain.

My nights were beginning to blur together, all consisting of drunken stupors. It wasn't like me at all. I haven't spoken to my parents in days. I didn't remember what the hell happened last night, but I did know that it had been two weeks since Greg was killed.

The bullet struck his neck, and he'd basically bled to death.

I met Chase when the NYPD stopped by my apartment to express their condolences. It was the next morning, when I was still a wreck and sleep deprived. He was an officer himself, as well as the main trainer and handler of K-9 Onyx, the sweetest German Shepard I'd ever met. Onyx accompanied the two officers that visited.

I spotted the pup sprawled across the floor, still deep in sleep. I raised myself to a seated position and checked the clock. I had an hour before my new photography class started.

I slipped my feet over the side of the bed when Chase rolled his body onto his back. I watched his eyes flutter open. He winced at the sunlight, too. "What are you doing? He grumbled.

Monday was his only day off. He acted like it was the worst luxury in the world. "I have class at nine." I whispered, for his sake and mine.

He muffled something into the pillow that he used as a shield from the sun.

"What?"

"Skip it." He said louder.

"I can't." I whined, wishing I could. I was excited for Photography, but I didn't feel like attending a class at nine in the morning after a hard night of drinking.

His fingers locked around my wrist. I slipped them off and kissed his cheek.

I splashed water on my face in the bathroom and combed my fingers through my long, black hair. My fingers caught a knot and I winced at the tugging on my head. I snatched a bottle of aspirin from behind the mirror.

By the time I made it outside it was nearly eight thirty. I'd missed the bus, and the subway would take too much time. Taxis take too long in traffic.

I started speed walking down the sidewalk and secretly wished Spiderman would show up again. I hadn't seen him since that night in the elevator. Then again, I haven't been home much since then, and I haven't taken the elevator at all. Maybe it was all my imagination. Who knows what the hell happened that night.

I shook the thoughts away before they could get to me. I made it to class with only seven minutes to spare. Of course, I was sweaty and recieved some curious glances when I walked in, but at least I made it.

I sat myself in the back near a decent-looking girl who was shuffling through papers in a folder. I had no idea where she'd gotten so many, it was only the first day of class.

At nine, she stood up and gathered her folder. Her red hair bounced in its clip as she skipped to the front of the class. She faced the fifteen-or-so students and wore a big smile. "Good morning, everyone. My name's Audree Denton. I'm excited that you're all interested in photography!"

I glanced around the room at the other students, as did they. This girl was talking like she was our teacher.

I checked the letter I'd recieved about the course, and found the instructor's name to be Denton, A.

"I have a course description and layout sheet I'll hand out to you." She couldn't have been a day older than me. How was she teaching the course? "Does anyone have any experience with -"

She was cut off by a familiar face that burst through the door. His cheeks were flushed red, and every pair of eyes was directed at him.

"I'm sorry." He said quietly, feeling the pressure of his peers.

"That's okay, it's the first day. I'll give a little slack." She grinned, waving her hand at him. "Oh, but I'll need your name."

He swallowed roughly. "Peter Parker."

She traced her finger down the list of our names, and poked it at the paper. "Peter, take a seat anywhere you like." She gave him an extra cheesy smile.

Peter's eyes lifted to search for any empty seats. I shifted my eyes and played with the dead ends of my hair when he almost caught me staring. I saw him sit down in the center of the room.

Audree finished taking attendance and proceeded to discuss the goals of the class. She babbled about cameras and lenses, to the point where I was questioning whether I wanted to take the course or not.

Thankfully the clock struck ten a.m. and I rose to my feet. The blood rushed to my head and I had to use Audree's desk to catch myself.

She grasped her hand onto my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." I assured her. "Just a little dizzy."

"Are you sure? You don't look well."

I nodded my head and tried to force my feet forward.

Audree caught both of my shoulders. "Please, just sit down for a few minutes."

I shifted my bottom into a chair and held my face in my hands. The world was still spinning. It was Chase's fault. He always convinces me to have just one drink, and then suggests another, and by then I decide to drink more on my own. I couldn't let her know that, though.

"Olivia?"

It was painful, lifting my head up again. Peter's eyebrows created a straight line over his eyes.

"I think she's going to pass out." Audree told him. "Do you want me to call someone for you?"

"No," I insisted, slowly finding steady footing. "I'll be fine, really."

"I'll help her get home." Peter said, hooking his arm under mine. "We live in the same building."

Audree agreed, even though I wasn't sure that I did. I wasn't necessarily comfortable with Spiderman escorting me home in the midst of possibly the worst hangover I've ever had. This behavior wasn't like me at all. I got straight A's and B's in high school, I was studying to become an English major, and I never had a drink a day in my life before two weeks ago. I was a completely different person, a person that I didn't want anyone to see.

"You're saving me again." I mentioned, trying my best not to press too much weight on him.

"I'm used to it." He said.

I didn't speak again, mainly because I couldn't trust myself to say appropriate things. He seemed to understand.

Before I knew it, I was in the lobby of our apartment building. I hadn't made the connection that we must have lived together before now.

"What floor are you on?"

"Five." I whispered.

It took me a second to register that he'd pressed the button for the elevator. The silver doors creaked open, and I was paralyzed with fear.

"It's okay." Peter promised, rubbing my shoulder.

I took in a deep breath. He couldn't carry me up the stairs, and there was no way I could do it myself. This elevator was my only option.

I forced myself inside and closed my eyes. He held onto me steadily the entire time. The elevator hit the fifth floor so smoothly that I thought we flew.

"Room number?" He asked.

"517." I said.

He acted as my crutch all the way to my door. I tried the handle, but it was locked. I felt for my keys in my pocket, and my stomach literally fell to my feet. "Shit." I groaned.

"No key?" He guessed.

"I left it at my boyfriend's house." I realized. "With my bag."

He thought to himself. "Can you call him?"

I dug my phone out of my jacket and called Chase. My knees were dangerously close to giving out, so Peter helped me lower myself to the ground. He crouched beside me, waiting for Chase to answer.

His voicemail picked up. He was probably still asleep. I slapped the phone shut and dropped it into my lap, digging my fingers into my hair. "I'm so sorry about this." I told him.

"Don't be." He insisted. "Everyone has a right to get drunk on a school night now and again."

I laughed a little to myself. "That isn't true." It made my head throb again. I frowned.

"Sitting here isn't going to make that feel any better."

"I know." I whined, holding my head.

He rose to his feet and lifted me by my hands. He threw my arm around his shoulder and started walking back down the hall, towards the elevator.

"Where are we going?" I asked him weakly.

His response was simple. "You need rest."