Peter WHY...

The final bell rang through Midtown High, signaling the end of Monday's classes, and Peter Parker slung his backpack over his shoulder, weaving through the bustling hallway toward the entrance. 

The air outside was crisp, the late November chill biting at his nose as he leaned against the wall, waiting for Liz Allan. Snow dusted the ground, a remnant of the weekend's flurries, and the faint glow of holiday lights peeked from nearby storefronts, hinting at the festive season ahead. 

Back to normal—well, as normal as it gets, Peter thought, his mind drifting between school, Liz, and the rooftop chat with Daredevil the night before.

He spotted her then—Liz, her blonde hair bouncing as she ran toward him, her jacket zipped tight against the cold. Her eyes sparkled with excitement, and Peter couldn't help but grin as she skidded to a stop in front of him, slightly out of breath. "Peter!" she exclaimed, her voice bright. "Guess what? The dance—the winter formal—it's set for January!"

"January?" Peter said, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up. "Nice—gives us some breathing room. You sound pumped."

Liz beamed, nodding vigorously. "I am! They just announced it in last period—January 15th. It's gonna be huge, and I've already got ideas spinning. We're gonna make it awesome."

Peter chuckled, sliding an arm around her shoulders as they started walking. "Awesome's your specialty. Hungry? How about we hit up Tony's Pizza—grab a slice or two?"

"Or two?" Liz teased, leaning into him. "You know me better than that—let's make it a whole pie. Pepperoni, obviously—my favorite."

He laughed, steering them toward the familiar pizza shop a few blocks from school. "Pepperoni it is. Should've known—one slice's never enough for you."

Liz grinned, nudging him playfully. "Hey, I'm a pizza champion—you found that out after our third date, remember? I demolished a whole pepperoni pizza solo, and you just sat there, stunned."

Peter smirked, the memory flashing back. It'd been a turning point—third date at a little joint near her place, and Liz had opened up, shedding her school-queen polish to reveal her goofy, pizza-obsessed side. "Stunned? I was impressed," he said. "Thought I'd met my match—turns out you're the real superhero when it comes to eating."

"Guilty," she said, laughing as they reached Tony's Pizza. The shop's neon sign buzzed above the door, and the warm scent of dough and melted cheese wafted out as they stepped inside. The place was cozy—red-checkered tablecloths, a jukebox humming in the corner, and a handful of after-school regulars scattered at booths. They slid into a corner table, the vinyl seats creaking under them, and Peter flagged down a waiter.

"Hey, can we get a large pepperoni pizza?" Peter asked, glancing at Liz. "Anything else?"

"Extra cheese," Liz added, her eyes gleaming. "Gotta make it perfect."

"Large pepperoni, extra cheese," the waiter confirmed, jotting it down before heading off.

Liz leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her excitement bubbling over. "Okay, so the dance—January 15th gives us time to plan. I'm thinking we go all out, couple's style. How do you feel about a dress code? Like, matching vibes?"

Peter tilted his head, intrigued. "Matching, huh? I'm in—what's your vision?"

She grinned, her hands gesturing animatedly. "I was thinking classic with a twist—black and white, but with a pop of color. You in a black tux, maybe a red bow tie or vest—something sharp but fun. I'll do a white dress, long and flowy, with red heels or a sash. We'll look coordinated but not cheesy, you know?"

"Red's bold—I like it," Peter said, picturing it. "Black tux, red bow tie—sounds slick. You in white with red? That's gonna turn heads. We'll own the dance floor."

"Exactly!" Liz said, clapping her hands. "I've been sketching ideas—I'll show you later. And we need to practice dancing—I'm serious about that, Peter. No stepping on my toes."

He laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I've been practicing, I swear—smooth moves only. You'll be amazed. What else you got planned?"

"Well," she said, leaning in conspiratorially, "I'm on the planning committee, so I'm pushing for a winter wonderland theme—fake snow, fairy lights, maybe an ice sculpture if we can swing it. It's gonna be magical, and we'll be the best-dressed couple there."

"Fake snow? Ice sculpture?" Peter whistled, impressed. "You're pulling out all the stops. Guess I'd better polish my tux—and my charm—to keep up with you."

"You'll do fine," Liz said, her smile softening. "You've already got the charm part down—just don't trip over that tux, okay?"

"No promises," Peter teased, his arm still casually around her shoulders as they settled in. "But with you leading, I'll manage. Pepperoni pizza and dance plans—best Monday ever."

The waiter returned, sliding a steaming large pepperoni pizza with extra cheese onto the table, the rich aroma filling the air. Liz's eyes lit up, and Peter couldn't help but laugh—she really could eat a whole pie alone, and he loved that about her. They dug in, the chatter flowing as easily as the melted cheese, the winter formal a bright spot on the horizon of their snowy, pizza-fueled afternoon.

"That was amazing," Liz said, tossing the napkin onto the empty tray with a contented sigh. "Pepperoni's unbeatable—especially with extra cheese. You're officially my pizza partner now."

Peter laughed, stretching his arms above his head. "Glad I made the cut. You're a pro—I'm just here to keep up. Ready to head out?"

"Yeah," Liz said, grabbing her jacket from the booth. "Let's walk it off—burn some of those calories before the dance prep really kicks in."

They slid out of the booth, Peter fishing a few bills from his pocket as Liz added her share. "Split it?" he asked, glancing at her.

"Always," she replied, smiling as they handed the cash to the waiter. "Fair's fair—though next time, I might let you treat me."

"Deal," Peter said, winking as they pushed through the door into the cold evening air. The snow had thickened slightly, dusting the sidewalks of Queens in a soft white layer, and holiday lights twinkled from shop windows, casting a festive glow over their path. Peter fell into step beside Liz, his hands in his pockets as they started toward her apartment building a few blocks away.

"So," Liz said, her breath puffing out in little clouds, "January 15th—winter formal. We've got our dress code locked, but what about the vibe? I'm imagining us making an entrance—black tux, red bow tie for you, white dress, red heels for me. Picture it."

Peter grinned, picturing it vividly. "Oh, I'm picturing it—us strolling in, turning heads. You'll look like a snow queen with a kick, and I'll be the guy trying not to trip over my own feet."

She laughed, nudging him with her elbow. "You'll be fine—I'll lead if you start flailing. We'll practice, I told you. I'm not letting my boyfriend embarrass me on the dance floor."

"Boyfriend, huh?" Peter teased, his arm brushing hers as they walked. "Guess I've got a title to live up to. Don't worry—I'll brush up those moves. Maybe throw in a spin or two."

"You'd better," Liz said, her tone playful but firm. "I've got big plans—winter wonderland theme, fake snow, the works. We're gonna be the couple everyone's talking about."

"More than they already are?" Peter quipped, thinking of the school gossip he'd overheard that morning. "We're already a hot topic—might as well give 'em a show."

"Exactly," Liz agreed, her eyes sparkling under the streetlights. "It's our night—I want it perfect. You, me, pizza dates like this, and then the dance. Best way to kick off the year."

"Couldn't ask for more," Peter said, his voice softening. "Pizza and you—keeps me grounded."

She smiled, leaning into him slightly as they turned onto her street. "You're sweet, Peter. Keeps me coming back."

They reached her apartment building—a modest brick structure with snow piling up on the stoop—and slowed to a stop outside the entrance. The cold nipped at their noses, but the warmth between them lingered. "Well, here we are," Liz said, turning to face him. "Thanks for the pizza—and the walk."

"Anytime," Peter replied, stepping closer. "Gotta make sure my pizza champ gets home safe."

Liz laughed, then wrapped her arms around him in a goodbye hug, her jacket rustling against his. Peter hugged her back, her warmth cutting through the chill, and for a moment, they just stood there, the snow falling softly around them. "See you tomorrow?" she asked, pulling back just enough to meet his eyes.

"Count on it," Peter said, grinning. "Get some rest—dream about that dance."

"Only if you're in it," she teased, stepping toward the door. "Night, Peter."

"Night, Liz," he called, watching as she slipped inside, the glass door swinging shut behind her.

Peter lingered for a second, the glow of her smile still buzzing in his chest, then turned to head home, the snowy streets stretching out before him. Pizza, a dance, and Liz, he thought, his steps light. Best Monday ever just keeps getting better.