Page 36 of Spinning Out of Control

“I am not going to make a Spider-Man joke,” he said with a straight face when we pulled apart. I narrowed my eyes at him, and he just gave me a smirk. “So, how do you stick to the ceiling when there’s no webbing there?”

“I don’t know,” I said, lifting up one of my feet to examine it, as if I had never seen them before. Not that I often spent that much time focused on my own feet. “It is natural for me, so I suppose there is something on my feet that allows me to stay there.” I began to spin, drawing webbing from my spinnerets and securing it to the wood.

Caleb watched me in fascination, and I couldn’t help flaunting a little, tossing the loops more for him to see, weaving a more decorative pattern than I normally would. Once the main line was long enough and secure, I climbed down it and began to weave the frame of the chair for him. I remembered seeing those funny-looking egg-like chairs on TV and in online stores. I could easily make something like that, and it seemed like something Caleb would appreciate. “Do you feel different being upside down?” Caleb asked as he watched me.

“No,” I said. “Does it feel different for humans?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, brushing his fingers through his hair that was still a little damp from his shower. “All the blood rushes to your head, and it can cause a lot of pressure. Some people even pass out if they are upside down.”

“Do you?” I asked curiously as I shaped the outer frame.

“Do I what?”

“Pass out.”

“I haven’t,” Caleb said thoughtfully. “But I’d much rather be right side up.”

I giggled softly. Caleb upside down might be pretty cute, with his hair falling. It would probably look like mine then. I would have to try that later, as long as I didn’t hurt him. “What are you laughing at?” Caleb asked, raising a brow.

“Just imagining you upside down.”

“Hmm. I used to be able to do a handstand,” he said. “I never tried it one-handed though. I don’t know if I have enough strength in my one arm to support me anymore. And I’d rather not break my one good wrist to try.”

“I would prefer that as well,” I said. “Although, then I’d have to bundle you up and take care of you. Feed you, bathe you. You would be my little pet for sure.”

Caleb snorted softly. “You’re all about this ‘pet’ thing.”

I paused in my weaving for a moment to look over at him with more than just one eye. “I have never had a pet. Any sort of domestic animal would be considered prey to me in the monster world.”

“Would you want a pet?” Caleb asked curiously. “Like, a dog or a cat or something? A tarantula?” He gave me another smirk.

I flicked my foot at him, sending a piece of webbing right into his face, and he yelped, arms flailing as he tried to get it off of him. I laughed as he huffed and straightened his hair. “Maybe one day. When I know that I would not react instinctively and hurt it.”

“You don’t do that with me,” Caleb said.

“I know, but you’re different. More intelligent.”

“Aw, you say the sweetest things,” Caleb teased.

I leaned over to give him a quick peck on the cheek before returning to my weaving. The frame was done, I was just adding in the crosshatches so he could lean back in it. “I do miss the chase part of hunting, but I’d be afraid of hurting an animal that was as small as a dog or cat.” Humans were a bit sturdier in their construction, even if they weren’t as flexible.

“What do you mean, the chase? I thought you caught stuff in your web to eat,” Caleb said.

“I did. But sometimes something would manage to get free or would get caught in a part of my web that wasn’t sticky enough to hold it. And sometimes-” I blushed a little, dropping all of my eyes away from him. “I would just get bored, and it was something to do.”

“I have to imagine that was pretty terrifying for whatever you were stalking,” Caleb said, and I nodded, heat filling my cheeks.

“I am sure it was. I am ashamed of it now.”

“You didn’t know any better, Ter,” Caleb said. “I’ve never been to the monster world, but I’m sure the rules are very different than they are here.”

“Yes,” I agreed. “I much prefer to not have to kill things for survival.”

“You have a good heart,” Caleb replied. “What you do here is more important than what you did in the past to survive.” I beamed at him, shifting to weave a quick, tight interior piece that he could sit on. “You really are amazing,” he added, and the praise made my whole body shiver the tiniest bit.

“Thank you,” I said with a slight blush. I gave the chair a quick yank to make sure it was solid, then motioned for Caleb to climb into it. He did, settling back inside of it. When I let go, it began to swing ever so gently. He sighed and tucked his legs up under him.

“This is great, thank you, Ter.”

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