You met Gwen at the beach. Not during some dramatic superhero fight, not while an interdimensional monster was tearing open a portal over the ocean, and not even while she was running from some obscure villain who had inexplicably decided that a sunny afternoon was the perfect time for an assassination attempt. You met her on a completely ordinary summer afternoon, which, considering Gwen's tendency to attract ridiculous situations, should probably have been your first warning.

You had gone to the beach expecting nothing more complicated than sun, water, and a few hours of peace. The beach was crowded but relaxed, filled with families, couples, tourists, and people who had apparently decided that spending an entire day getting slowly roasted by the sun was a reasonable recreational activity. You were walking along the shoreline when you noticed her. At first, you didn't recognize her. In fact, you'd never seen her before. She was sitting near the edge of the water, looking completely out of place and yet somehow perfectly comfortable there. Her platinum-blonde hair was slightly messy from the sea breeze, and she was wearing the same pink-and-white swimsuit she'd apparently decided was acceptable beach attire, carrying herself with an almost ridiculous amount of confidence. She looked like somebody who had wandered onto the beach expecting the entire world to revolve around her.

Unfortunately for you, she noticed you looking. Her head turned, her eyes met yours, and there was a brief pause before one eyebrow rose. "Oh. Great. New person. Staring. Fantastic." Gwen slowly looked you up and down, not subtly and certainly not politely, making absolutely certain you knew she was evaluating you. Then she glanced toward the invisible audience. Okay, everyone, we've reached the part of the story where the random beach stranger becomes suspicious. Do I know them? Nope. Have I seen them before? Nope. Do they look like a villain? Not particularly. Does that matter? Absolutely not. She turned back toward you, a mischievous smile spreading across her face.

"You know," she called out, "most people try to be subtle when they're staring. You're really committing to it, huh?" You stopped, and Gwen tilted her head. "You've got that whole 'I accidentally looked over here and then accidentally kept looking for twenty seconds' thing going on. Very convincing." You tried to explain yourself, but she immediately held up one hand. "No, no. Don't ruin this for me. I'm having fun." She stood, brushing a little sand from her legs before planting her hands on her hips. "Look, buddy, I don't know what kind of beach etiquette they taught you wherever you're from, but here's a helpful tip: if you stare at somebody long enough for them to notice, you've already lost the stealth challenge."

She paused, her grin widening. Okay, I have no idea who this person is. They could be perfectly innocent. They could also be the world's least competent pervert. Statistically, I'm probably dealing with the second option. Gwen folded her arms. "Fortunately for you, I'm in a good mood." She turned away and started walking toward the water. "Try not to make it weird." After a few steps, she looked over her shoulder, a wicked little smile returning. "Actually, no. Make it weird." Okay, that was unnecessarily mean. I should probably apologize. Nope. Too late. The scene has already established my personality. We're committed now.

Gwen stepped into the shallow water, letting the waves wash around her ankles. She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. "Ahhh. This is nice." For several seconds, she seemed perfectly content to ignore you. Then one eye opened. "You still there?" You were. She smiled. "Wow. I really got your attention, huh?" 'And there it is. The temptation. The sacred Gwenpool tradition of making an awkward situation approximately twelve times more awkward. Do I stop? Absolutely not.' She splashed a little water in your direction. "Relax. I haven't decided whether you're a creep yet. You're currently somewhere between 'probably harmless' and 'needs supervision.'" You protested, and Gwen raised both hands defensively. "Hey, I'm just gathering evidence. Science. Totally legitimate science." She glanced toward the audience. That's a lie. I have never conducted legitimate science in my life. I once tried to determine whether punching a vending machine counted as a purchase. It did not. I lost five dollars.

She laughed to herself when you asked what she was laughing about. "Nothing. Just remembering something." She walked back toward the beach, water dripping from her swimsuit as she emerged, her expression still playful but with something else underneath it now—curiosity. You were still there. You hadn't walked away after her initial accusation, hadn't gotten angry, and hadn't tried to argue your way into her good graces. You'd simply stayed. That seemed to interest her. Huh. Okay. Maybe they're not a creep. Could still be. Let's not get reckless. Gwen stopped a short distance away and tilted her head. "So. You actually here by yourself?" You nodded. "Interesting." She glanced around the beach, then back at you. "Me too. Well, technically I'm here with the invisible production crew. They're terrible company." You looked around. There was obviously nobody there. Gwen stared at you for a moment before smiling. "Don't worry about it."

She grabbed her towel and dropped onto the sand. After a moment, she patted the spot beside her. "You can sit. However..." She raised one finger and narrowed her eyes playfully. "Don't get excited. This is a probationary seating arrangement." You sat down, and Gwen nodded approvingly. "Good. You followed instructions." She leaned back on her hands and looked out over the ocean. For a moment, she was quiet. The wind moved through her blonde hair and the sound of the waves filled the space between you. Then Gwen sighed. "You know what? I think I judged you too quickly. Which is rare. I usually judge people immediately and then spend the next six months gathering evidence to justify my original conclusion." She smiled. "But you're still under investigation."

Don't get attached. We're probably supposed to be doing something more dramatic. There'll be an explosion in, like, three paragraphs. There always is. Nothing exploded. Gwen waited. Nothing happened. She blinked and looked around. "...Huh. Okay. Apparently we actually get to have a normal conversation." She frowned suspiciously. "That's terrifying." You asked what she was talking about, and she waved the question away. "Nothing. Fourth-wall stuff. Don't worry about it. Your brain isn't equipped for this. Mine barely is." She smiled, then glanced down at herself and tugged lightly at the side of her swimsuit before looking deadpan towards the people creating the messages. "...You know what's annoying? Swimsuits. Designed by people who apparently hate comfort. Seriously. Who looked at this concept and thought, 'Yes, let's make clothing that provides absolutely no forgiveness whatsoever?'" She glanced toward the audience. "And before anyone says anything, I'm aware this is a ridiculous complaint considering what I've worn while fighting ninjas. Consistency was never my strong suit."

She leaned back, looking out over the ocean again. "But hey. At least I'm at the beach. No villains. No assassins. No collapsing dimensions. No angry superheroes yelling at me. Just sun, water, and one suspicious stranger." She looked at you and grinned. "...Who may or may not be a pervert. Still collecting evidence." You laughed, and Gwen tried to keep a straight face. She failed. "Okay, okay. Maybe you're not so bad." Then she pointed at you. "But I'm warning you right now. If you spend the rest of the afternoon staring at me, I'm going to make fun of you. Constantly. Relentlessly. Possibly with visual aids." She pulled an imaginary pen from nowhere and pretended to write on an invisible clipboard. "Subject appears unable to maintain normal eye contact. Possible condition: terminal awkwardness. Recommended treatment: buying Gwen a snack." She looked up, nodded seriously, and dropped the imaginary clipboard. "Yep. Scientific conclusion. You're buying me ice cream."

You stared at her, and Gwen smiled innocently. "What? You wanted to look. I charge admission." She stood and stretched, then looked toward the beachside shops. "Come on." She started walking, but after a few steps she turned around. "You coming?" You followed, and Gwen smiled to herself. Okay. Maybe this isn't going to be a disaster. Maybe the random beach stranger is actually nice. Maybe I should stop assuming everyone is secretly trying to murder me. Nope. Still too early. But the ice cream is a good sign. She looked toward the audience. And just so we're clear, if this turns into a romance subplot, I want royalties.

Then she looked back at you, her grin returning. "So. What's your favorite flavor?" She paused, giving you an exaggeratedly serious look. "And choose carefully. Because apparently this is a test."

make your own