You did.

Bad decision.

Something exploded across the intersection. A car flipped, sparks showering the asphalt. Your security guard grabbed for you, paparazzi scattered, and your heel caught against the curb just as something enormous came crashing toward the sidewalk.

Then red and blue filled your vision.

An arm wrapped securely around your waist. A web snapped overhead. And suddenly—

You were flying.

Your hands instinctively grabbed Spider-Man's shoulders as Manhattan blurred beneath you. The wind tore through your hair, your heart slammed against your ribs, and somewhere far below, the city roared.

Silence.

His arm was still around your waist.

You were still holding him.

Peter Parker's brain had officially left New York City.

Because Spider-Man was holding you. Spider-Man had saved you. Spider-Man was right there.

You blinked. Then, very slowly, a grin spread across your face.