i caved and wrote a fake dating au. sue me.

disclaimer: rated T for suggestive themes, but there's nothing explicit or mature or anything.

All Annabeth knows is that his hair smells really good.

And like, strangely so.

It's a kind of sandalwood with a hint of jasmine, and it reminds her of one of the candles she has in her large collection of them, and she realizes that she could lie here sniffing him forever if it weren't for the fact that she had no idea who he was.

Her eyes fly open.

It's sometime past sunrise – though that judgment was vague in the scheme of things such as time, in which you could say anytime was past sunrise depending on which sunrise you were referencing. Still, it's a valid assessment; the sunlight streaming through his un-blinded windows scorches the back of her eyelids.

In her immediate line of sight is a still ceiling fan, in which several items of clothing adorn its blades. Her eyes fall to the nightstand on her left, the remnants of a spilled cup dripping down its side. Underneath the table and spanning the area of the room are piles upon piles of clothes, and, she concludes from both her observational skills and the feeling of the thin sheet brushing against her bare legs, a pair of her jeans lay amongst them.

Her heart rate swells as she struggles to sit up, but the weight of the stranger's arm draped across her chest prevents her from moving.

Fuck.

He – a he with broad shoulders and dark tousled hair – shifts and lets out two soft snores, but, to both her relief and disdain, he doesn't wake up. In his hold, Annabeth feels trapped (but also satiated in her touch-starvation, because gods, if he isn't warm–).

With all that she can muster, she shoves him off, and the man flips over onto the floor on the other side of the bed, evoking a groan as she untangles herself from his web of blankets.

"What was that for?" he says in a gruff morning voice. It's almost enticing enough to make her want to crawl back into his embrace, but then she catches a whiff of whatever was in the cup next to her, and any such thought vanishes.

Which is also due to a sudden, shooting pain in the back of her head.

"Shit," Annabeth mutters through clenched teeth, perching on the edge of his bed, snaking a hand through her tangled hair to grasp the back of her head, hissing in pain. The man grapples onto the bed with the edge of the comforter and stretches his torso into the bed, burying his face in the mattress.

Sucking in a sharp breath, she asks where his bathroom is. The man grumbles and points in a vague direction toward the hall. "Last door on the right."

She gives a short nod she knows he won't see and all but sprints out of the room.

The fraternity house – she figures it's a fraternity house because it reeks of cheap alcohol and oral herpes – is in an even worse state than his room was. Dozens of red solo cups are scattered around the floor, some spilling startlingly green substances into the carpet. Beer bottles are stuck upside down in his houseplants, most of them completely shattered, and she almost steps on a shard if it weren't for its reflection in the light. The hallway reeks of vomit and beer and sweat, and she tries not to wretch on her way into the bathroom.

She feels along the wall for a light switch, but her eyes stay shut as she turns on the tap. After a few gulps of water and a splash to the face, she feels brave enough to open her eyes.

And she shudders.

In an effort to be kind to herself, she thinks she looks like a young raccoon experimenting with makeup for the first time. Streaks of mascara run down her cheek until it turns into a sludgy shade when it mixes with the pink lipstick smeared up to her nose, and her hair looks like it was infested in the middle of the night.

And yet, with all of these factors up for consideration, the worst thing was that there were several purple bruises along her neck and collarbone.

And she was going to be murdered at practice on Monday, given it wasn't already Monday.

She hears a low groan come from what she assumes is her perpetrator's room, and it's then that she faces her reality.

Annabeth Chase slept with someone.

Someone she didn't know.

And she couldn't tell you a thing about it.

She leans into her reflection and stares into her own bloodshot eyes, eerily aware of how unlike herself she looked and felt. From the piercing headache, she supposes she was hungover, though she'd never been hungover before, so she wouldn't particularly know the feeling. Was this what the aftermath of a party looked like? The teeny chick-flick movies definitely made it look a lot prettier than this.

In a futile attempt to look presentable, she shakes her hands in her hair and pulls it into a ponytail with the hair tie she always kept around her wrist. She splashes a few handfuls of water into her face, and grabs a few tissues and wipes the rest of the makeup off.

It was nowhere near the insert-popular-actress-after-one-night-stand glow, but it would suffice.

With a few deep breaths that had no effect on her confidence level, she wanders back into his room to find that he hadn't moved since she left. Her stomach swirls with nerves before she can find her voice.

"What happened last night?"

The question was meek and came out like she was afraid; she was afraid, but she hated that she sounded like it. Still, she stands with her shoulders open.

The man tilts his head up in her direction, and Annabeth nearly chokes on the gasp caught in her throat.

"Percy Jackson?"

Classically for the man of the hour, a smug smile curves Percy Jackson's full pink lips, making Annabeth's stomach twist in anger or desire, she didn't know. She folds her arms over her chest.

"Band nerd," he says, his eyes scrutinizing her figure. "Who would've guessed?"

To say that Annabeth Chase disliked Percy Jackson was an understatement; if there was a word stronger than loathe, she'd use it. To her, Percy Jackson was a self-serving dickhole with no regard to any human emotion other than his own – he was so narcissistic, he probably jerked off to himself, and given the right amount of money, he'd post it.

She wasn't so flawed as to not account for her bias, of course. Her hatred stemmed for one fateful Homecoming night they're freshmen year, when he knocked over Annabeth's conductor platform during the halftime performance, breaking both her ankle and her pride in the process. The month spent in a boot was almost worth falling on him and breaking his rib in the process, especially when he has to sit out the last few games of his starting season.

A scoff reminiscent of Mean Girls' very own Regina George resonates in Annabeth's chest as she steps into his room. "I have a name, you know. And by the looks of things, I'm sure you were howling it last night."

Percy's nose wrinkles in scorn, and Annabeth sticks out her tongue. Of all the people on planet Earth, she ended up bedding her… not-so-much enemy but definitely not friend. "I can't believe," she mutters, snatching her jeans from the ground, "that I'd ever filthy myself by the means of you."

Percy rolls his eyes. "You make it sound so gross."

"Because it is. Gross. Awful. Distasteful. I'm glad I wasn't sober."

He twists a pop out of his back before running a hand through his dark and shaggy hair. Annabeth resists the urge to take a pair of scissors and hack at the mess. "Well, the same goes for me," he says. "Though, I'm sure drunk me had fun."

Annabeth fights the blush threatening to creep up her neck, to no avail. She tugs at the edge of the – of his – t-shirt. "You make me sick, you know?"

"That I know very well. Not sick enough to keep your hands off me, eh?" He rubs a hand up his bare torso. Annabeth averts her eyes to keep them from lingering. Faint pink marks speckled his abdomen, and she can't help but revel in the fact that she was the cause. When he catches her gaze again, he winks, like he knew how much his nonchalant attitude irked her. Her nostrils flare as she grabs her phone from the back pocket of her jeans.

She clicks the button, and it doesn't turn on.

Annabeth kicks around a pile of clothes, hoping that among the tornado wreckage of his room, she could find a phone charger. Percy yawns loudly behind her.

"Um, what are you doing?"

"Looking for a charger."

"Is that how you ask someone?"

A wire peeks from the seventh pile she searches through, and she knew Percy would be reliable for one thing. She bends over with her back facing him to yank it out. "I found it anyway," she says, shoving the box into an outlet.

"I see that," he says, and Annabeth turns around in time to catch his face turning a violent shade of crimson. A sly smirk slides onto her face, and she bats her eyes innocently.

"Why are you blushing?"

He rubs a hand over his face, turning his expression toward the window. "Shut up, Annabeth."

"Oh, so you do know my name."

She presses the power button until the Apple logo appears on her screen. Her fingers drum impatiently against the wall she's leaning on. Being in Percy Jackson's room half-naked was strange, and she wanted nothing more than to leave.

After several moments of silence punctuated by heavy breathing, her phone lights up with a photo of her, Piper, and Thalia on her lock screen. It's Sunday, 11 am. A wave of relief washes over her.

Then a notification pops up. Ten missed calls from Dad.

"Oh, fuck me," she whispers to herself, hurriedly shaking out and stepping into her jeans, struggling not to fall over in the process. She flips off Percy's faint already did as she buttons her pants and slips her phone into her back pocket.

"I'm gonna leave and try to forget I was ever here," Annabeth says, making her way toward his door. "If I never see you again, it'll be too soon."

Percy Jackson. Her inebriated self was desperate enough to let Percy Jackson into her pants.

She's halfway through the door when she pauses.

"You… you wouldn't happen to remember what happened last night, would you?"

Despite the small part of her wanting him to say yes and explain (or say yes and claim it was the worst ever), he shakes his head. "Not really. Why?"

Annabeth pauses again, throwing a look over her shoulder. "Why what?

"Why did you ask if I remembered?"

Annabeth frowns a little. "Because I really don't."

She leaves his room before he can finish his thought, and she tries to ignore how much his shirt smells like his hair.

While Piper does her best to cover the bruises on her neck, Annabeth musters up enough courage to call her dad.

To her disdain, he answers immediately

"Before you say anything," Annabeth says, "I went back to my apartment before the party even ended, and I fell asleep before I got the chance to call you, and I just woke up to see you called me, so I'm really sorry, please don't get mad – yes – I promise I didn't – mhm – yes, I'm safe – Thalia's out right now, but you can talk to her later – alright – okay – okay – bye."

"How long are you in for?" Piper asks, smearing another layer of concealer on her neck.

"He cut me off for two weeks." She relaxes into the plush chair at Piper's vanity. "For "making him worried sick." Guess I'm dipping into that new car fund to buy shitty ramen from the canteen."

"Fair, but shitty ramen has gotten me through many hard times. Nothing like a little sodium to clog your blood vessels."

Annabeth groans, shoving her phone back into her pocket. "I guess." She rubs her hands over her face. "At least he didn't question it."

Piper purses her lips, dabbing the sponge against Annabeth's neck. The concealer was a little darker than her natural skin tone, but it was enough to get her back to her apartment without being looked at weirdly. "You got off lucky. The one time I stayed out too late, I got my door taken off and my keys taken away."

Annabeth stretches out her neck. The benefits of being in college and away from her father.

Piper caps her concealer and stands back to admire her work. After one final dab, she tosses her sponge on her desk, marking the white paint. "Alright, you're done."

Annabeth looks towards Piper gratefully. "You're a lifesaver."

"It's no problem. But you have to spill." She throws herself onto her down comforter and the pillows around her bounce into the air. She props her elbow under her chin. "Now."

"Do I really have to?"

"Yes. Because you don't show up to my house with a dozen hickeys and not expect me to have questions."

And with a heaving sigh, spill she does.

"You slept with Percy Jackson?" is the first thing Annabeth hears when she's walking to class Monday morning, so already, this day is going pretty fantastic.

All throughout the concourse, stares are thrown in her direction. She pulls her hood over her head and crosses her arms over her chest, practically jogging to the science building. Even the teachers look at her weirdly. The amount of times her name comes out of someone's mouth makes her want to punch someone.

"You look like you could punch someone," Leo says, fiddling with the fries on his plate. "Your face just screams "I'm gonna punch you.""

Annabeth pauses long enough from stabbing her fork into her spaghetti to flick a piece of pasta into his face.

"She's… having a bad day," Piper explains to a stunned Leo. "Like… really bad."

Naturally, Annabeth avoids Percy Jackson at all costs.

The two were so different. They were like lion-and-tiger different. Biologically, they should get along. Biologically, they could procreate, and given time and circumstance, they would. Biologically, they were nearly the same species, even. But they were apart two different packs, prides, whatever – two groups that shouldn't mix.

Look at the liger. The product of the relations between a lion and a tiger. A beautiful creature, plausible by the laws of science. But the liger itself was lonely, and male ligers couldn't even reproduce. And the liger was only the product if their relations were positive. Negative relations resulted in…

Well, death, probably.

Saturday night was a mistake, and Annabeth refuses to talk about it ever again.

Though, British Literature makes that wish especially hard to fulfill because of course her longest class of the week is the one she has with him.

Annabeth is the first one there. Mr. Blofis glances up at her with a grin that more resembled a grimace before going back to scribbling in his planner. She swallows. Please let him be sick today or something. Anything to avoid him making some sort of comment about how her hickeys seemingly disappeared overnight (concealer was a miracle worker), or how he loved when she screamed his name or something complete immature and-

He doesn't say anything.

It's a minute until class starts, every single person that comes in looks directly at her and immediately turns to their friend to laugh (because the drum major and the quarterback of the football team, please), but he walks in and immediately b-lines into his seat, hood up, avoiding any eye contact at all.

Huh.

"Mr. Blofis, is there absolutely anyone else you can pair me up with?" Annabeth practically begs him after class is over. "Like, anyone? I can work by myself. You know I work well by myself."

Mr. Blofis looks up from his furious typing at his computer long enough to once over her panicking face.

"Hm." He adjusts his glasses. "Would there be a reason you can't work with Mr. Jackson?'

Yes. An itemized list of thirty years of disagreements, sweet Jesus, there are several reasons why she couldn't work with Percy Jackson.

But she doubts "he has a stupid face" would be enough to get herself out of this, and she definitely didn't need her English professor to know that she slept with his stepson.

(When people found out that Percy's mom was married to Mr. Blofis, the dorky English professor with glasses too big for his face and an affinity for awful tweed suits, those who tried to make fun couldn't get a word out without threats from the football team. The pure fear of being cast from society by the dumbest jocks in school was enough to kill the rumor entirely – the only people who knew of their relationship were the juniors and seniors who were here when it happened.)

"Uh," she states dumbly. "We- we just don't get along. I don't think we would be very efficient in getting the research done, let alone creating a final product that's up to your standards."

She throws in a quick smile, hoping it would hide the pleading in her eyes.

"Well." It may have been her paranoia, but his look was almost knowing. "The way I see it, I think the fact that you don't get along is all the more reason for your pairing up. Not only are there fewer distractions, but you'll get the project done as quickly as possible, meaning less time you have to spend together. And you and Mr. Jackson might even learn to like each other when this is done. I know I've made lifelong friends after heated discussions about Shakespeare."

And they called her a nerd.

Ultimately, Blofis doesn't budge, and Annabeth storms out of the lecture hall with anger written all over her face.

"Whoa, who put the snake in your boot," says Thalia – the punk kid with four too many blips on her permanent record but somehow managed to get into a decent college, who just so happened to be one of goody-two-shoes Annabeth's closest friends – who kindly waited for her outside the classroom. "You look like you could punch someone."

Annabeth takes a shaky breath. "You're not the first one to say that today."

"I bet. What's wrong?"

Her and Thalia's footsteps echo off the lockers of the band hall as Annabeth pushes away the curls straggling from her ponytail. "Mr. Blofis paired me up with Percy for the stupid Shakespeare project."

Thalia's mouth forms a tiny 'o'. "Dude, that sucks."

"Ha, I know."

"On top of what happened Saturday night too?"

Annabeth nearly trips over her own beat-up Adidas as she grabs Thalia's arm.

"You were at that party?" Annabeth asks as they turn into the band hall. A trio of trumpets warming up in the practice room.

"Uh, yeah? Who wasn't?"

Annabeth's eyes go wide, and she sucks her teeth. "Thalia, I have no idea what happened Saturday. Like, I don't have the slightest clue. All I know is that I woke up in bed with Percy Jackson, and he has a really nice back, and his hair smells really good, and I must've been somewhere past blackout drunk, because I was hungover in the morning, and people have been staring at me all day and–"

Annabeth gasps for air and Thalia shoos away the girl with the reed between her teeth looking at Annabeth like she belonged in a mental ward.

Because she probably did.

"So you're saying you don't remember anything?" Thalia opens her cage and hands Annabeth her flute. This was the last practice she had to practice with her flute – after this, she had to prepare her baton routines for the Homecoming halftime show. "Like nothing at all?"

"No."

Thalia takes her own clarinet from the locker right above Annabeth's, fingers instinctively hovering over its keys. "Does Jackson?"

"Not as far as I know."

The two head out to the band lot, where half the saxophone section is sharing a box of Cheez-Its and a tuba player talks rapidly on the phone to who Annabeth assumes is her percussionist boyfriend who left to meet his drug dealer behind the abandoned Walmart.

"And I'm assuming you want to know what happened?"

Annabeth rolls her eyes. "Yes, Thalia, please."

Thalia smirks. "Well, first off, you had way too many Smirnoff screwdrivers for someone who is a severe alcohol virgin. Like, three, and you were gone. Done-zo. And there was Jackson, pretty drunk off his ass himself. You know Rachel broke up with him, right?"

"Like Rachel Dare, Rachel?"

Thalia nods her head. "Yep. "The whole it's not you, it's me" spiel and everything."

Annabeth hums, tapping her flute against her leg. Rachel Elizabeth Dare. She didn't have anything against her, but she was too ooey-gooey nice, and her smile was almost too genuine, and her hair was too shiny to be real; she reminded her of an American Girl doll. Annabeth wasn't even aware that she and Percy were together in the first place, and it almost makes her pity his broken heart.

But that also meant she was drunken rebound sex.

Which doesn't make the situation a whole lot better.

Annabeth sits on the curb of the parking lot and Thalia follows. "Continue."

Thalia unconsciously chews on a reed she keeps in her back pocket ("they taste good, you just don't understand"). "Well, uh, I guess you kinda stumbled into him? You know, like a drunk girl. And I'm pretty sure you immediately started yelling at each other and everyone was like "oh shit", but then you kissed him and everyone was like "oh shit-""

"I kissed him?"

"Oh yeah, you like, pounced on him. I wish I recorded it. I'm sure there's a video somewhere."

Annabeth nearly smacks Thalia upside the head. "And why didn't you stop me?"

Thalia shrugs. "Because it was funny."

Before Annabeth can get another word out, the band director blows his whistle.

"We'll talk tomorrow," Annabeth says, scurrying off to her section. She adjusts her ponytail. "You better not do anything stupid before then."

(Thalia gets caught vaping in one of her teacher's offices the very next day.

Annabeth didn't know what she expected. If you tell Thalia not to do something, there was a 99.9% chance she would do that very thing to your face.)

Annabeth sprawls herself across a bench as the rest of the marching band runs laps around the field – a freshman baritone had emptied his spit valve into one of the director's mugs, and he – Dr. Chiron Brunner, the head director – made everyone run in consequence. To spite the fact that he made even the drum majors run, Annabeth finished her four laps before most had finished one. A sharp pain shoots under her ribs – she hadn't run so fast since she was on the track team in high school.

Information about the Shakespeare project had been posted that morning; it was a choice of either acting out a scene with an electronically submitted analytical essay or an in-depth analysis of the entire book via a class-length PowerPoint presentation. Partners were to submit their choice of play by Thursday.

It was a little known fact that Annabeth loved Shakespeare; her favorite play had to be Romeo and Juliet. The most famous and tragic epitome of romance was Romeo and Juliet, but Annabeth still had a copy shoved away on her bookshelf back in her room. She memorized the whole "What's in a Name?" soliloquy when she was 12 years old hoping that Camp Crush would someday become the Romeo to her Juliet. She shudders at the thought.

Thought by the looks of it, the closest she'd be getting to Romeo was Percy Jackson.

She slept with Percy Jackson.

She couldn't shake that thought – it popped into her head every 20 minutes, and she'd retch every time. They did things with each other. She probably saw his ballsack. Annabeth Chase, drum major, top of her class, voted most likely to succeed in the eighth grade, was in an intimate situation with the starting quarterback of the five-time Bowl Championship Winner football team: her virtual nemesis.

And thank god she wasn't pregnant.

(Even though Annabeth was on birth control, she and Piper had stopped by the drugstore to pick up a few pregnancy tests to make absolutely sure. After surviving the heart attack that came with that false positive, Annabeth vowed to never become the protagonist of the next Juno.

She wasn't looking forward to the "were you recently tested?" talk, though, because she would willingly live with genital herpes if it meant she never had to utter another word to Percy Jackson.)

Annabeth was in the middle of contemplating whether or not they could do their entire project online when the rest of the band falls eerily silent, which is only eerie because, well, they're a band.

And it's deja vu because when she opens her eyes, she has a splitting headache, and Percy Jackson is standing over her with his hair sticking up in all sorts of directions.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear, right?

"What do you want?" she says, throwing her forearm over her eyes to block out the sun. "Why are you here?"

Percy pushes away the hair that sticks to his forehead. Sweat drips from his chin, and she flinches as it lands next to her arm. "Football practice ended early, and I forgot I had this in my car. You left it at my place."

From behind his back, he produces a blue sweater with "Yankees" stitched across the front. A chorus of "ooh"s come from what Annabeth thinks are the french horns, followed by an eruption of snickers and whispers over the entire lot. Annabeth groans.

"Did you really have to do this now?" Annabeth asks, reaching for the item in his grasp. "Like, in front of everyone?"

Percy jerks his hand back just as Annabeth's fingers graze his, a sly smile painted across his face. "Embarrassing you is my favorite thing."

"My offer of breaking your rib again is still on the table."

"And while I know you will not hesitate to do so," Percy says, tucking her sweater under his sweaty armpit, "I'm afraid that getting this sweater back comes at a price."

Annabeth purses her lips, sits up on the bench, and readjusts her ponytail. "Jackson, I'm not in the mood for your shit right now."

Percy takes a seat next to her on the bench, and Annabeth shifts away because he reeks of sweat and locker room banter. "I'm gonna make an offer you can't refuse."

"If you're gonna quote the Godfather, I'd like to exercise my constitutional right of the word "no."

He chuckles yet Annabeth remains unamused. He clears his throat. "Fair enough. That's not what I came here for." He again brings out the sweater, laying it across his lap. "This is your favorite sweater right?"

Annabeth's eyes flash. "How would you know that?"

"You wear it all the time. I'm not oblivious."

Annabeth tilts her head, a bit taken aback. She only had one class with him, and even then, they sat on opposite sides of the room – it was her favorite sweater, and she did wear it all the time, but she didn't even think her closest friends knew that. "I beg to differ."

"Beg all you want, but I already got my answer."

Annabeth lets out a short laugh and crosses her arms over her chest at the audacity. She concedes with a nod of her head.

"Wanna hear my offer?"

"I suppose I don't have a choice."

"Promise you won't freak first." He holds out a pinkie. "Please."

Annabeth glances at his finger and back to his face. Then to his finger then his face again.

"Pinkie swearing? Are we twelve?"

A look of hurt passes over Percy's face, and for a split second, Annabeth feels an inkling of guilt.

He broke your ankle. Drunken rebound sex.

"We can shake on it if you wanna be boring," he says, holding out his hand. "You're honestly no fun."

Annabeth places a hand over her chest in mock hurt, gasping. "I can have fun."

He smiles; she refuses to admit that the tiny gap between his front teeth was cute, and he holds out his pinkie again, which she reluctantly takes.

"My mother always told me to never agree to things before I know the terms and conditions," Annabeth says in a hushed voice because by now they'd stopped running and were returning to their spots on the field. "This is a very risky agreement, seeing as you've given me no reason to trust you."

Percy leans in, and she gets an ever-so-slight whiff of his cologne. A chill runs down her spine.

(She'd done a project on how smells were the strongest trigger of memory back in her freshman year for her science class. Since smells get routed through your olfactory bulb, the smell-analyzing region of your brain, which is closely connected to your amygdala and hippocampus, brain regions that handle memory and emotion, smells have the ability to be tied to a memory.

She had wanted to know why the smell of melted crayons reminded her of her camp crush.

He had a candle making hobby.

The candle he gave to her was the first in her collection of dozens.)

"You should probably listen to your mother, Beth." He looks down at their interlocked fingers. "And you must trust me a little, right?"

His breath smells like mint gum, and he has unfairly clear skin. She didn't understand how because she doubted he had a skincare routine.

"Can you spit it out?" Annabeth says, recoiling a little before she starts to notice the golden flecks in his eyes. "I have better things to be doing."

She doesn't miss the pink that stained his ears this time, and his cool façade retreats.

"Well, uh, it's more of a favor."

Annabeth nods for him to continue.

"Well, I, uh – you see – you know Rachel, right?"

Annabeth has to refrain from wrinkling her nose at the name. "What about her?"

Percy lets go of the pinkie she hadn't realized was still hooked with his to scratch the back of his neck. "Well, someone told someone else that told me that when she found out about… the situation at the party, she had gotten really jealous."

Annabeth sets her jaw to stop the smile that wanted to escape. Annabeth Chase made Rachel Elizabeth Dare, senior class president and chief executive of the I Heart Percy fan club, jealous.

Envious, even.

Annabeth had to give Rachel credit, though. Of all the girls the football players at her school typically dated, Rachel had to be the most down-to-earth. Majoring in 2D Art and Design, she had that innocent, purposefully paint-splattered overalls and Doc Martens, sweet and humble rich girl thing going on. And with the freckles covering every inch of viewable skin, she was far from airbrushed. Of course, there was nothing wrong with the girls who did wear full coverage makeup and one-size-fits-all Brandy Melville skirts – Annabeth only wishes she had the confidence to pull that off – but the unconventionality of Rachel strayed from what she thought was Percy's type.

And the fact that she was the one to break it off with Percy was the icing on the cake.

"But what does that have to do with me?" Annabeth asks pleasantly. "Why should I care?"

"Because… because I really want her back."

"And…"

"I was wondering if you could help me continue making her jealous."

It might have been her, but the sun was hotter than it'd been all autumn.

"Please don't say what I think you're about to say."

"Please don't tell me you're actually considering doing it."

Annabeth takes a drawn-out sip of her vanilla milkshake, avoiding the piercing stare of her two friends.

"Annabeth," Piper says, nibbling the end of her straw, "it's Percy Jackson. The kid put you on crutches for four weeks and a walking boot for two more."

Thalia chews noisily on a piece of her burger, sucking the juices off her blue-stained fingers. "Plus, I think you're forgetting that this is, like, the definition of using someone. I should know."

Annabeth rolls her eyes and reaches to wipe a bit of ketchup from the corner of Thalia's mouth. "You guys are ridiculous. I'm not… I wouldn't actually."

The diner is rather rambunctious for a Wednesday morning – meaning, there are two very elderly people sharing a plate of French toast in the corner, and Annabeth's icy heart almost melts – but the girls still keep their voices quiet on the off chance that a rather insane student at their University woke up at the crack of dawn to eavesdrop on the conversation of three of the uninteresting girls in school.

(Well, uninteresting is a bit harsh.

Thalia was infamous for the number of times she'd not show up to practice, and it was miraculous Dr. Brunner hadn't kicked her out of the band, but the clarinets would be nothing without her.)

This was a tradition amongst the trio. Ruby's, every Wednesday morning at 7 am sharp for milkshakes and fries. Her body hated her for it, but there was nothing a little fatty pick me up and her girls couldn't fix.

Especially when she was going through a small dilemma.

"Sure you wouldn't," Piper suggests with a shrug of her shoulders. "Then why would you even bring it up?"

This is followed by another long sip of her vanilla milkshake, and Thalia makes a show of rolling her eyes and heaving a sigh so great, you'd think she'd just let the literal weight of the world fall off her shoulders.

"Enough with the goddamn shake, Beth, or I will turn it upside down in your head. Now, please, dear, why the sudden change of heart? Has he threatened you?"

Annabeth lets go of the straw with a pop. "Maybe he did."

Piper's eyes grew to the size of dinner plates, and her palms flatten against the table, cheeks flamed. "Let me get my hands on the bastard or so help me God-"

"Not like that!" Annabeth says quickly, hand covering Piper's. "He didn't do anything like that. He's not that awful."

"You don't know that," Thalia says through another bite of her burger. "You don't know him."

She knows him better than she'd like to.

Annabeth adjusts her ponytail. "Still. I don't think he's that malicious."

"He literally set the guy's bathroom on fire to get out of class."

Annabeth lets out a short laugh. "Okay, but he does have my favorite sweater, and I'd like it back."

Piper and Thalia stare at her, slack-jawed and bewilderedly, respectively. They glance at each other then back to her.

"You're kidding, right," Piper says, twirling another fry between her fingers before tossing it into her mouth. She points a lazy finger in Annabeth's direction. "You're actually considering being Percy Jackson's fake girlfriend for your sweater."

"A tacky one at that." Thalia runs a hand through her newly blue hair, and Annabeth flinches. "The stitching is, and no pun intended, literally hanging on by a thread."

Annabeth narrows her eyes at the napkin holder, hands tucked beneath her armpits.

They'd understand, she tells herself. They're your friends.

Her very best ones, at that. Nothing could ground her more than the pale freckles along Thalia's chin or the knowing glimmer in Piper's smile.

Nothing.

Her steely gaze jumps between them.

She takes a shaky breath.

"That sweater is the last gift my mom gave to me before she left. She…. The Yankees. They were her favorite team. It was her sweater."

Annabeth spits it out quickly and all at once and has to refrain from deflecting to her milkshake to avoid talking. Her eyes scoured the table.

Piper and Thalia don't say anything for a while, and she doesn't look up to see their expressions. They wouldn't pity her intentionally, because she hates pity, but she doesn't want to deal with what she would find.

It's Thalia who speaks first.

"I'm sorry I called it tacky," she says, not caring to refrain from finishing off her burger. "It's a very lovely sweater."

Annabeth snorts wetly and traces a finger under her eye. She's dry. Good.

"It's not," Annabeth says, hands folded in her lap. "It's decades old. Older than me. But it's all I had left of her." She shrugs. "It's stupid."

"No, it's not," Piper says, sniffling. "It's not stupid. I mean, she wa- is, your mom. I get that."

Was. "Say it, Piper," Annabeth doesn't say despite wanting to. She was her mother. The mother she hadn't seen since the sweater dragged on the floor when she wore it. She bites her lip to keep from laughing bitterly.

But dammit, she wants it back.

"Why don't you just tell Jackson that?" Thalia balls up her trash. "That it was hers?"

This time, Annabeth does let out a bitter snort, and she wipes her fingers around the rim of the milkshake glass. "And give him the upper hand? Please. I'd rather him think I'm agreeing to his arrangement by pure material intention than sentimentality. The less vulnerable I am to him, the better."

The joke is unsaid but there. She'd ruined the purest form of vulnerability there was only four days prior.

But sober Annabeth was more resilient than blackout drunk Annabeth.

They simultaneously stand up and withdraw themselves from the booth, throwing several wads of cash on the table, and Piper nods kindly to the waitress slumped over the hostess station.

"So you agree that you are thinking about it?" Thalia asks as Annabeth pushes open the door. A gust of warm New York wind washes over them.

Annabeth frowns. "I kind of have to."

They stop at Piper's car – a brand new Lexus her dad bought as an apology gift, because he was rich, and he could do shit like that to buy his daughter's love. She opens her mouth then stops abruptly, immediately going for her bag and rummaging around in it, producing a pen and a piece of paper. Thalia and Annabeth glance at each other.

"If you're truly gonna go through with this, which I think is stupid and you might as well be signing your death warrant," Piper starts the most epic of best friend pep talks, "you're gonna need a better trade-off."

"I like how you think, McLean," Thalia says, rubbing her hands together rather maniacally. Annabeth gulps.

Piper grins. "Thanks. But really. You can't fake being his boo thang – which, might I add, is a thing that should really be left to cheesy fanfictions and romantic comedies – for purely a selfish reason on his part. You'll need a bigger pay off than just getting that sweater back." She clicks her pen. "What have you always wanted?"

"Love," Annabeth immediately rambles off. "A sense of security. Self-esteem. A-"

"I mean, a tangible possession. A want that Percy Jackson could provide you."

Meaning, absolutely nothing. She wanted nothing from him.

So she told them that.

Thalia nudges her with her elbow. "C'mon, there must be something, right?"

Annabeth storms into her English later that day with confidence and a sheet of notebook paper in hand.

Her ponytail swishes.

You know she's serious when her ponytail swishes.

Lots of people stare at her as she walks past – and she totally feels like one of those popular girls with stiletto claws in those teen movies she and Piper like to binge-watch – until she completely stumbles over a kid's backpack and nearly faceplants into the linoleum floor.

She's off her high horse unbelievably quick.

"Nice one," simpers Leo, and she promptly flicks him in the forehead, face a bright fire truck red. He whimpers. She smirks.

So, much more carefully this time, she continues her march to the back of the classroom to the lone figure with a gray hoodie thrown over his head, and she saddles the seat in front of him.

Deep breaths, Annabeth.

"I agree to your deal."

Percy's head snaps up as if he'd been startled, which was evident through the red around his eyes and the dried drool trailing down his chin. He settles when he realizes it was her.

"Were you asleep?" Annabeth asks, voice lilting like she was trying not to laugh. He rubs the bottom of his palms into his eye sockets.

"No," he says through a yawn. "I wasn't."

"Yes, you were."

His eyelids droop. "No, see, I'm totally awake," he says with a half-hearted thumbs up. "Now what do you want?"

Annabeth wants to push but decides not to. The bags under his eyes were dark and unforgiving. "I said that I agree with your deal."

He straightens immediately, pushing the hood off his head, all evidence of sleep gone (not minding the pool smearing the blue ink of his notebook). "You do?"

She does? "Yes, I do. But–" she holds up a finger – "If and only if we can agree to my conditions."

Percy tosses an apple into the air and catches it in one hand. "And what happens if I don't fulfill my end of the bargain?"

It was several hours later – after both Annabeth's agonizingly long practice with the drill team show tune (an insulting rendition of It's a Hard Knock Life) and Percy's football practice doing, she didn't know, catching and throwing – in the old park a few blocks from campus in the apartment complex she lived in. The sun and Annabeth's patience is steadily dropping below the horizon.

She humors him, though. "If you don't fulfill your end, I will not hesitate to expose our little deal to the entire school."

He bites the apple with a loud crunch. "That doesn't really scare me."

Annabeth's pen tapping quickens, and she leans hard against the wooden picnic bench. "I'll tell everyone you have a small dick."

"The entire football team's seen my dick, I'm not here for the body-shaming, Annabeth."

Annabeth groans and re-adjusts her ponytail. "You're impossible."

Percy chews his apple slowly and drapes his long arms over the table and he looks right at her. His hair ruffled in the light breeze (and it takes everything in Annabeth not to reach over and fix the piece of hair that's out of place). "You do that a lot."

"Excuse me?"

"The ponytail thing."

Annabeth stops herself from reaching up again, instead choosing to hold her hands over her notebook.

"Ya know, I've never even seen you with your hair down." Crunch. "You'd probably look less scary."

Annabeth scowls and throws her notebook open, uncapping the pen. "I'm not scary."

"Tell that to the poor notebook."

She ignores him as she takes out the folded piece of paper and smooths it flat on the pages. He peers over the table curiously, but she only holds it close to her. He narrows his eyes at her, but they still sparkle with the assholish charm that everyone can't seem to get enough of.

The charm that she could've done away with two years ago.

"I've chosen to ignore your comment. But in my hands-" She straightens her back and points her elbows outward, like something she saw Tyra Banks do on America's Next Top Model – "is every guideline I could think of to make this thing fold out as realistically as possible, as well as some things that I want in return."

Percy waggles his eyebrows, absolutely oozing the charm. "Oh yeah? Hit me."

"I will take you up on that offer quite literally if you're gonna act like this."

Percy props his head on his fist. "You're quite the violent one, aren't you?"

A stronger breeze shakes the orange leaves of the trees around her and sends a visible shiver down her spine – one that should've been avoided had she heeded her mother's warning of the cold front that'd move in by the end of the week – as one such leaf settles perfectly on the crown of Percy's head. She decides against telling him, because, well, ha, you were a jerk and now you have a leaf on your head.

She shivers again.

A line appears between Percy's eyebrows as he fiddles with his hoodie strings that were just uneven enough to make Annabeth twitch. "Are you cold?"

Annabeth looks up at him, a little startled, and shakes her head. He relaxes a little before his eyes dart to the page in her hands. "It's getting kinda late," he says, the arrogance was gone from his voice. "We should probably get started."

"Right," Annabeth says, albeit stumbling. "Okay. Number one. We shouldn't tell more people than we have to."

Percy scrunches up his face like a toddler who's being forced to eat something he doesn't want. "That's tough, I already told like three people."

The corner of Annabeth's lips quirks up. "I did too. Piper and Thalia know."

Percy takes another bite of his apple – a red delicious, which Annabeth positively despises because Granny Smiths were far superior – and grins. "Jason and Leo know too."

Jason Grace. Annabeth knows that name, not only for the fact that he was Thalia's little brother, but that Piper had a huge ass crush on him and wouldn't do anything about it besides drag Annabeth to every single soccer game he was starting in.

(Which was all of them. Because he was a starting forward.)

"You told Leo?" Annabeth asks incredulously. "You know he can't keep a secret to save his life."

Percy shrugs. "It'll be fine."

"Famous last words." Annabeth clicks her tongue. Percy gives a dismissive wave.

"Anyway. Rule number 2. No adultery."

"Right. I don't wanna look like a total douchebag."

"It's a little too late for that."

He pulls a face, and Annabeth holds back a smile.

Annabeth continues to ramble off rules about the parameters of the "relationship", including the basics in regards to PDA, when to be seen in public with one another, walking to class together–

"Wait, why do we have to walk to class together? That's not, like, normal," Percy says, placing the bare apple core on the wooden picnic table. "Rachel and I never did that."

"Well, we aren't you and Rachel. We're Percy and Annabeth." She hates that their names would come up in the same sentence, let alone as a pairing. "If you truly want her to be "jealous", we have to do things that you guys never did."

"Right." He nods and shifts in his seat. "Okay. Is that all?"

She can tell he's a little uncomfortable with the mention of his and his ex-girlfriend's relationship. Maybe she does feel bad for him. Getting broken up with is never fun – granted, she wouldn't really know but-

Poor kid.

"For the most part." Annabeth clears her throat and breathes in through her nose. "But if we're really doing this, I want something more than just my sweater back."

"I'm not having sex with you again." Percy glances up a little with a small smile and Annabeth flushes a deep red that was only at the joke, okay?

"That's not what I meant, you idiot."

Percy laughs his throaty laugh, and Annabeth glares at him. "Beth, I'm kidding."

Annabeth only glares harder. "I forgot to mention that I absolutely despise nicknames."

"Oh, hun, that'll only make this better."

That bastard. That cocky bastard.

"We're doing Romeo and Juliet for Blofis' Shakespeare project."

Percy stops short in his little brouhaha, mouth falling open. "Excuse me?"

Annabeth smirks. "We are going to perform a scene from Romeo and Juliet in front of our entire English class."

"Okay, yeah, I heard you. But why? I honestly think Taming of the Shrew would be more accurate."

Annabeth sneers. "Very funny. But if you want me to be your girlfriend, then this is the least you can do for me." She clasps her hands together and sticks out her bottom lip. "Please?"

Percy purses his lips, looking at her through narrowed eyes. "Stop doing that."

She tries to make her eyes as wide as possible, and she knows it's working because he's looking anywhere that wasn't at her. She'd mastered her puppy dog eyes when she was seven, and she only broke them out again in extreme cases, which this seemed to be. Eventually, he sighs.

"Fine. Just… never do that again. You're too good."

She grins, and Percy tries to hide his smile with the sleeve of his jacket. She caught him, though – don't think you can hide Percy Jackson, she thinks. You're not much different from the rest of us.

"Alright, I need to start heading back," Annabeth says, checking her watch – it was a little past 6, and she had a lab assignment waiting for her on her desk. "I'll text you the rest of the details, and then you can come up with conditions for me if you want."

"You're really giving me that freedom?" He stands. "I'm a little surprised."

"Don't be that surprised. I'm not as awful as you think."

Annabeth flips over the sheet of paper and in the corner, she scribbles her number. She tears it out, and stands up, walking around to his side of the table.

"Hold out your hand," she says. He holds out his hand. She refrains from calling him a good boy. "Here's my number. Text me so I can save yours."

She presses the slip of paper into his palm, and in one swift motion, he takes her hand and intertwines their fingers like he's been doing it all their lives.

Annabeth physically feels her face turn pink.

"What are you doing?" She asks, but she can't bring herself to pull her away. His hand is warm and rough, and it's the romantic in her that notices how perfectly her hand fits in his.

"Just wanted to see what it'd feel like," Percy says. His thumb runs over the back of her hand, and she shudders. He lets go. He doesn't meet her eyes. The leaf is still in his hair. "Sorry."

He pockets her number and throws his apple core in a nearby trash can.

And she's frozen.

Because what was that? Why did it feel… nice? And why did she feel the tiny little electric shocks of electricity writers love describing so much?

"It's fine," she says meekly, backing away from the picnic table. "I'll see you tomorrow?"

Percy nods his head and heads for his car. "Yeah. Text me your address."

He slips into the driver's seat and waves through the window before he drives off.

She stands in the pile of leaves surrounding her feet for a few seconds too long. She flexes her fingers. They still feel the same. She wasn't repulsed by the very look of her hand. She wasn't running a fever or anything.

But her being sick should've been the only way she would miss Percy Jackson's hand in hers.

Annabeth all but sprints down the stairs when he texts her that he's outside the building.

"Hey," she says with only a slight wheeze, buckling her seatbelt. "You're on time."

He grunts and pulls the car into reverse. "I was afraid of what would happen if I wasn't. Mornings… aren't my thing."

When Percy texted her last night, he had told her that exactly. Her first class didn't even start until 8:00, so he had no earthly idea as to why she wanted to be picked up so early.

Percy: it's bc you what to see as much of me as possible, huh ;)

Annabeth: you wish. I have something I need to do.

Percy: like….

Annabeth: you'll find out tomorrow, calm your butt

"I can tell," she says. "You look awful."

Annabeth glances at him. And while he does look like he rolled out of bed and put on the first thing he saw – which she didn't doubt that he did exactly that – it worked for him in a really, unfortunately, good way. She'd never tell him that, of course, but...

It reminded her of other times.

Horrifically tainted and forgotten times.

"Thanks, Beth." He eases on the gas as he approaches a stop sign and looks both ways before he continues. "I would have tried harder, but I was afraid of what would happen if I was late."

He still has a hint of that morning voice, Annabeth notices, and she gulps, shifting in her seat and turning to gaze out of the window. She distracts herself with the orange of the New York City sunrise, and the smell of freshly cut grass carried by the slight breeze that warned her of the bad winter ahead. It calms her and her racing heart.

Why was it racing?

"I wouldn't have done anything," she murmurs into the windowpane. "The most I would've gotten is pissed off."

"And we can't have my new girlfriend pissed," Percy mocks with a lazy smile. One hand rests on the steering wheel and the other fidgets on the middle console and Annabeth had never been in a car with him before – because why would she have wanted to spend 15 minutes in a confined space with Percy Jackson willingly under any other circumstance – but she trusts him. At least, she trusts his ability to drive her from point A to point B without harming her.

Plus, with the confidence he radiated, it was no wonder girls threw themselves at him.

"That wouldn't be a good start to this very new and very fake relationship, would it?" she asks.

A few seconds of silence pass between them, and she notices his stare out of the corner of her eye, but when she meets it he focuses back on the road. "Yeah." He clears his throat. "Very bad start."

Now here came the part Annabeth had been dreading since they made the deal:

"So we have to like, act like a couple now, right?"

Percy pulls a face that essentially meant "no shit, Sherlock," grabbing her hand and dragging her inside Dunkin Donuts.

Their local Dunkin was the hot spot for kids at their University, and Annabeth didn't know why – mediocre coffee and chewy pastries weren't particularly appealing to her, especially loaded with sugar and first thing in the morning. (Though, she supposes that her eating french fries at a diner at 7 am was even weirder. But she'd rather fries over a sickeningly sweet iced mocha whatever any day.)

Several pairs of eyes fall on them as the bell announces their arrival, and Annabeth struggles not to hide behind Percy. It was only then did Annabeth realize just how much attention their "relationship" would bring; he was the quarterback of their football team – the starting quarterback of the football team. All the eyes went to him when he walked in a room – it was hard for them not to. He had a presence, and it wasn't even in his height, or his looks, or the fact that he'd led their team to not one, but two state championships. It was just… him. His aura, his power, his being. To the underclassmen on campus, he was a god among men.

And that fact infuriated her.

But, with an unfamiliar gentleness, he squeezes her hand; without hesitation, she squeezes back, sucking in a breath and burrowing forward to join the line of zombie customers.

"Do you actually like Dunkin?" Annabeth asks, leaning in toward Percy's ear. "Because I hear their drinks are like 70% sugar."

Percy looks down at her with a furrow between his dark and unruly eyebrows. Annabeth wonders if he'd let her trim them. "Are you a snob about everything?" he asks, stepping forward as the next customer orders. "Or is it too early in the morning?"

Annabeth frowns but quickly turns it into a smile when a girl from her biology class turns to gawk at her. She discreetly knocks him with her elbow.

"Are you always a dick about everything?" she whispers through her teeth. "Or is it too early in the morning?"

Percy sneers at her, and she sticks her tongue out. Despite the antagonistic intent behind their words, it was relatively easy talking to him – or, at least, insulting him. She hopes that at the very least, it came off as flirtatious banter and not malicious as she intended.

They're next in line, and Percy tugs her forward.

The cashier is in her Design Theory class, and it's clear he recognizes her because of his prolonged stare. She shifts awkwardly. She actually thought he was kinda cute at the start of the year, but then he spoke up in class about his distaste for skyscrapers, and she immediately got over it. Still, she can't help but stand behind Percy as he starts to order.

"Um, can we get a blueberry donut and one…" He looks down at Annabeth, and she shrugs. She didn't really have much time to decide considering she was trying to be the most convincing girlfriend possible – though, she didn't even know if she was pulling that off. He rolls his eyes, scanning the menu.

"And one black coffee."

The cashier nods, tapping their order into the screen. Annabeth finds a teeny, absolutely tiny smile gracing her lips. As if reading her mind, Percy bends down toward her. "You had a clear aversion for sugar. Besides, you're bitter."

She pinches his arm as he reaches for his wallet.

They would've stayed to eat, but it was 7:38, and Annabeth still needed to return her library book before 8. She didn't mean to be so secretive when she texted him, but she knew that if she told him, there was no way he was going to take her.

She likes to think she knew him better than that.

She buckles into the passenger seat of his car, sipping on her coffee. It tastes like shit, and she's had better coffee at the Holiday Inn continental breakfast bar, but it's caffeine and it's warm. It was the beginning of October, and the air was growing cold.

They putter down the street until she can see the campus library. At 7:45, it was empty – most people weren't crazy enough to sign up for 8 am classes unless they didn't sign up in time, but Annabeth liked getting an early start. It made her feel more productive and like she wasn't wasting her life away. They park in a space relatively close to the entrance, just as the librarian turns on the light inside. Annabeth slings her backpack onto her back and opens the door.

"So, was this a pleasure or necessity read?" Percy asks, jogging slightly to catch up with her quick and long strides. She had ten or so minutes on her side, but if it wasn't returned by 8, she would have to pay yet another late fee, and with her already crippling student debt, she didn't need an unnecessarily expensive library fee on top of it.

She approaches the dropbox and slides the book into the slot. "Both," she says, zipping her bag closed. "My professor assigned it, and I enjoyed reading it." She acknowledges the librarian through the window and turns on her heels. Luckily, her class was only a two-minute walk from here. She loops her arm under the strap of her bag and readjusts her ponytail. The cool wind pierced through her thin jacket.

"What's your major?" Percy asks, falling into step alongside her. He's wearing short sleeves, and Annabeth doesn't know how he's not freezing.

"Architecture. You?"

"You're not majoring in music?" Percy asks, tilting his head. "You're in the band, right?"

Annabeth shrugs. "I mean, yeah, I am. I love music, and I love band, but it's not something I wanna do for the rest of my life, you know? Do you major in football?"

"Marine biology."

Annabeth turns to look at him, surprised. Biology. She didn't know what she expected of an athlete of such high caliber, maybe something like business management or kinesiology, but not biology, especially marine. She asks him why. He said it was because he loved the sea. She asked him why again.

They're approaching the fine arts hall, where her design class took place, and kids begin to flood the concourse. In an instant, he slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into his side, and it feels oddly... natural. He still smells like sandalwood and jasmine, and she feels warmer; from his actual body heat or because she was blushing, she didn't know.

"I lived in the water when I was younger," he says. "I was on the swim team and the football team in high school, but football won out because I got a scholarship to play here." He looks down at his hand like he's reminiscing something. Annabeth wonders if that's what he really wanted to do. "My father was a fisherman, so I was exposed to marine life at an early age. I was practically born underwater. In fact, I think I actually was. I also hate aquariums, so don't ever ask me to take you to one."

Annabeth huffs, shaking her head. "Wasn't planning on it."

She could see the sea in Percy; it was in his eyes, his hair, his skin, his laugh. If she was anyone else, she wouldn't have pinned him for a quarterback. If they were in California, he'd be a surfer; Australia, he'd be a diver. She wonders if he was trying to go pro in football, or if he wants to do something with his degree.

They're outside the doors of the hall, where people flow in and out of the building. Everybody looks at them. Part of her is worried that they could see right through the façade; the other part of her knows that can't because the backstory was already there.

But what if they connected the dots?

Percy and Rachel were together since freshman year. They were the "it couple." Everybody loved them together; they were so different, but in a way that complemented each other, the football player and the artist. And their breakup was only days ago. Why would Percy move on so quickly for any other reason other than to make her jealous?

Let alone with his one-night stand.

"Alright, I have to go," Annabeth says, sliding out from underneath his arm. Her class was toward the back of the building, so it was a little walk, especially with her watch blinking 7:50. She preferred to be a bit early so her seat wasn't taken. "Will I see you later?"

But before she can move all the way away from him, he grabs her hand and spins her back into his embrace, lacing their fingers – smooth on his part, clumsy on hers. Annabeth gasps, her other hand bracing his chest. His other hand settles on her waist. It felt like they were about to tango. She looks up at him, scowling. His crooked grin is full of mischief.

"Of course. Besides–" he leans into her ear, brushing the stray curls away from her neck– "I still haven't told you my conditions."

With that, he walks away, hand stuck down his front pocket, ignoring the eyes that jump from him to Annabeth and back to him. She stumbles as she pushes open the doors to the building.

Fuck him.

She's sitting in their local cafe, scrolling through her online copy of Romeo and Juliet and shoving a peanut butter and jelly sandwich into her mouth when she gets a call. It's Piper. She answers.

"You're trending."

Annabeth swallows the bite without chewing enough, and she almost chokes, taking a sip of her water, grimacing as it falls to her stomach. She slams her glass back on the table.

It's about two hours later, and after Annabeth left from a class she spent doodling in her sketchbook as her professor droned in about things she already knew, she went down to the cafeteria to eat a PB and J with strawberry jelly; she'd say she had it made because she was tight with the lunch lady, but it was just her job. Though with the weird requests she got every day, Margaret was happy to make the sandwich.

And now the sandwich was being crushed in her fist.

"Excuse me?"

"Our school discussion board. You're the talk of the campus."

After she drops the food back onto her plate and wipes her hand off in a napkin (and she knew she was going to go back to it later even tattered), Annabeth tucks her phone into the crook of her neck and opens their school directory in another tab, clicking on the community page. She doesn't even have to scroll. They'd implemented a "trending" feature a few years back for quick access to the school's hottest question, so it'd be easier to find what most people were looking for. It was Twitter's wannabe, but it was popular around campus, so a lot of people used it.

And there it was. Percy Jackson. 376 comments.

"Okay, that's about him, not me."

There's rustling on the other end of the line, and she can hear the TV in the background. "Click on it."

She does.

And the very first post is a picture of the two of them embracing each other outside the art hall.

Annabeth's stomach flips. "Who would do that?" she says, zooming in on the photo. She was glaring at him, face red, and he was gazing at her with an expression so intense, she could feel it through the screen. He looks like a model – she looked like a dork who'd been swept into this thing without knowing what she was getting into. "Why would they do that? Do I really look like that?"

By pure coincidence, she notices murmuring at the table nearby, and they're all staring at her with mixes of admiration, disgust, and interest. She's never been a person of interest before. Sure, she led the marching band during halftime, but the band was memorable because of what they were as a whole, not individually. Aside from when she answered questions in class, nobody really looked at her.

And now, her face was plastered where everyone could see it.

"People love to talk," Piper says. "Also, I don't recommend looking through it. It's not all bad on your part, but there's a surprising amount of "skanks" being thrown out considering it's not 2004 anymore."

Annabeth cringes and closes the tab, deciding to heed Piper's advice. She should've known something like that would happen, considering who her "boyfriend" was. Still, just seeing it riddled her with anxiety. Would this tarnish her squeaky clean reputation?

And was she okay with that?

But she finds herself reopening the tab to save the picture. Maybe she'd need it someday.

"This is… insane," she whispers into the phone in case the table next to hers is listening. "Should I even go through with this?"

Piper scoffs. "Of course. You've already committed, and I did not help you make that plan for nothing."

"Fair. But… I didn't really think about this."

"That would be a first."

Annabeth pulls her bottom lip between her teeth. She should have predicted these consequences sooner. Percy probably knew this wasn't gonna fly under the radar, hence why he wanted to be so public so quickly. Her stomach churns again, and it's not because of the picture.

After they say their goodbyes, Annabeth hangs up the phone. She tries to continue reading the manuscript in preparation for tomorrow, but she can't focus – it's been a day, and it feels like half the city knows about her and Percy Jackson. She'd been prepared for a slew of maybe a dozen or so people who cared, factoring in his ex-girlfriend and girls who've set their desperate sights on Percy, but everyone on campus?

That made this ten times harder.

She's back in her living room, flopped down on the couch as the ceiling fan makes the baby hairs escaping her ponytail fly around her face. Thalia reclines in her computer chair, scrolling through the board.

"It's up to 422," she says, clicking her tongue. "Oop, 423. 24. 25."

"Please stop," Annabeth says, massaging her temples. "You're gonna give me a panic attack."

The trek to her apartment after lunch was interesting by herself. People looked at her; not a passing glance, not awkward please look away eye contact, they looked at her. At her presence. Her clothes, her face, her hair.

And they had opinions about her.

Oh boy did they have opinions about her.

She tried to ignore the discussion board per Piper's suggestion, but Thalia had the website pulled up the second she walked into the house. An overwhelming amount of them were curious about who she was; some were upset at her for being a "homewrecker," or from stealing Percy from them and/or Rachel. The funniest ones were the ones asking where Percy had found someone who looked so obviously done with his shit, hoping she would deflate his swollen ego.

But nonetheless, Annabeth Chase was somebody.

And it was weird.

"The paparazzi better not show up at our door, or I'm kicking you out," Thalia says, closing her laptop. "Also, if anybody asks about you, I'm making up the weirdest shit on the spot, and you can't stop me."

Annabeth shrugs, brushing the hair from her face. "Whatever. Can't be any worse than what people already think."

Suddenly, there's a knock at her door. Thalia glances at Annabeth with a raised eyebrow before getting up to answer. "Better start packing, Beth. Or get ready for your photo-op."

She opens the door, and there stands Percy Jackson with his fist raised to knock again. Annabeth immediately sits up, pulling down the edge of her shirt.

"Annabeth, it's your boyfriend" Thalia says, retreating from the door to fall back into the rolly computer chair. "You're saved this time."

"He's not my boyfriend," Annabeth says, standing and waving Percy in. He steps inside, gently closing the door behind him. He still wasn't wearing a jacket, and it bothered her. "But why are you here?"

"Nice to see you too," Percy says, a dimple appearing in his cheek. "We need to talk."

Annabeth notices the piece of notebook paper in his hand, and she gestures toward it. "Your conditions?"

"Yeah. Also about the fact that in the past hour alone, at least 30 people have approached me asking, "who's the babe in that picture, and when can I get a piece?""

Annabeth blushes so deeply, she's afraid her face will permanently stain pink. "You're definitely paraphrasing," she says, walking around the sofa to stand next to him. "Nobody talks like that."

"You'd be surprised. College guys kinda suck."

"Yeah. I know." She gives him a once-over, taking in the dirt rubbed into the sole of his Vans. "But let's talk. I hope you didn't write anything ridiculous."

But before she can read the first thing, he hides the list behind his back. "I'd like to talk to you alone."

He glances pointedly at Thalia, who looks around her desk innocently, throwing her hands in the air and shrugging. "There's nobody here except us. Oh, unless you're talking about me? Because if so, I'm not moving."

Thalia's smirk is the last thing Annabeth sees as she guides Percy to her room by his elbow, shutting the door behind her. He sits down on her bed like he owned it. Annabeth took a cautious seat next to him.

"It looks like your plan is working," Annabeth says, crossing one leg over the other. "I'm sure Rachel knows by now."

Percy again gets that look of discomfort when he says her name, and she takes note not to mention it too often – or maybe only when she really needs to. His Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

"Yeah. But it's only talk right now – we gotta keep the buzz going. You don't stop drinking until you're drunk, right?"

"I don't drink."

Percy quirks an eyebrow at her. "You sure about that?"

"On with it, Jackson."

He scoots a little closer to her, and his knee touches hers. "We have to ramp it up a bit. Make our appearances in public, yeah, but we have to look actually into each other. And not completely disgusted like you did in that photo."

He sounded like her father when he reprimanded her like that, and she frowned, feeling oddly guilty. She wasn't disgusted. Just shocked, and rather unimpressed, and it was written all over her face. It was one of the only emotions that she couldn't hide.

He unfolds his sheet of paper, smoothing it down over his thigh. Only three things are written, compared to what yesterday had been her twelve.

"Number one. You have to dress up for me at the game Saturday night."

"I think you're forgetting that I'm in the band. We have to wear our uniforms," Annabeth scoffs, leaning back onto her hands.

"But aren't you like, drum major, or something?"

Annabeth tilts her head. "Yeah. So?"

"So you don't actually like, do anything till halftime."

"We have to play the school song every time you guys score. And our stand tunes. Don't you hear us play Sweet Caroline every twenty minutes?"

Percy's face falls into a pout, and with his full lips, it's way more alluring than Annabeth wanted it to be. She searches his eyes, and when he clasps his hands together, she laughs. His puppy dog eyes worked as well as hers apparently.

"Fine. I'll talk to our director and see if he can let me go to the stands for the first half."

Percy gives her a crooked smile. "Cool. Alright, two: you have to go to the Homecoming dance with me."

"That's on Halloween. It's October 3rd."

"Your point?"

Annabeth scoffs. "That's four weeks away. You wanna keep this up for four weeks?"

Percy looks at her like she's crazy, but she feels like she's the one who should be giving that look. That's almost an entire month of having to act like she likes Percy Jackson. She could barely stand him being in her room right now. If it was just for their project, she could deal with four weeks; at least she wouldn't have to pretend to like him. "Uh, yeah. Ra- er, my ex wanted me to take her, but since we're broken up…"

"So I'm your replacement date?"

"You're my replacement girlfriend."

Annabeth narrows her eyes. "Why should we even go? Homecoming is for frat guys and sorority girls and people who don't have anything better to do."

"But it's a costume party this year."

Delta Kappa Delta, the biggest sorority on campus that was responsible for organizing the Homecoming campaign each year, thought it a great idea to make Halloween the day of the Homecoming dance since it was on a Friday this year. The theme was "costume party," naturally, though she was 99% sure half the costumes were gonna be sexual innuendos and lingerie with a pair of bunny ears. Her, Piper, and Thalia briefly discussed going as the Sanderson sisters from Hocus Pocus, but mostly as a joke. Mostly.

(She, personally, wished she could pull off wearing lingerie as a costume.)

An idea pops into her head. "Okay. But you'll have to ask me first."

Percy rolls his eyes. "Annabeth, will you go to Homecoming with me?"

"Not like that. I want a high school promposal. Flowers, a sign, serenade me if you have to."

Percy laughs, but her face doesn't falter. She was serious. She secretly always wanted one, but she went to Prom alone her senior year. She hated attention, but she was a sucker for a grand romantic gesture, even if it was fake.

"Really, Beth? These are my conditions."

"Don't forget that I'm doing this for you, despite the fact that you did break my ankle freshman year."

Percy sighs. "Fine. I will. Now, one last thing."

Annabeth rests her cheek on her shoulder, jutting her chin out at him. "What is it?"

"You have to let me kiss you."

"Sorry?"

Despite his status and his overall cool and collected demeanor, Percy was a lot more awkward than she initially anticipated. He blushes a lot, like now, as he shifts awkwardly on the bed, turning to face her with the tips of his ears bright red. "If we want people to think this is real…"

Annabeth raises a blonde eyebrow. "I've seen plenty of believable couples who've never kissed in public."

"Name two."

"Troy and Gabriella didn't kiss in the first High School Musical."

"Name a real couple."

Annabeth purses her lips, remaining silent.

If you asked her two years ago, right after she'd gotten her cast, she'd tell you she'd rather kiss a toilet seat; now that her hatred had dampened, she finds that she isn't repulsed by the idea. She'd never, ever tell him this, but he was… cute. And not in the way babies or kittens were cute; it was in the way his green eyes were always twinkling with mischief, and the way his jaw clenched when he was serious, and the way his hair fell about his head in a way that was never neat.

(Gods, she was itching to tangle her fingers in his hair.

That stupid, stupidly hot messy hair, and oh my goodness Annabeth you whore-)

"Okay," she concedes, breathing slowly through her nose. She still didn't want to do it, but for the sake of believability, she supposes that she had to agree.

It's the only reason she agrees. Definitely.

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll kiss you. But you'll have to tell me first, or there's an 80% chance I may punch you on pure instinct."

Percy leans in closer to her, but she holds out a hand. "Not right now. We're only a couple in public, remember?"

"Who says we can't practice?"

"I do. Now please," she shoos him away with her hand, "Leave my house."

Percy gives her an offended look, splaying his hand over his chest. "Getting rid of me so soon?"

Annabeth stands from her bed, a hand on her hip, staring at him. He groans and heads for the door. "Parting is such sweet sorrow," she says, waving as he twists the doorknob.

"That I shall say good night till it be morrow," Percy finishes, closing the door with a final wiggle of his fingers.

Annabeth hums. He'd been reading after all.

"We're not doing the balcony scene," Annabeth says, clicking her pen. "I'd rather poison myself than do the balcony scene in front of the whole class."

It's Friday, and they sat in the English lecture hall toward the back of the room, discussing their project. They were three weeks out from the due date, and they still could not decide what scene to do, and Annabeth was about to stab her pen through Percy's eye if he didn't wipe that little smirk off his face.

"Why not? I mean, it's really the only scene with two characters. Plus, it makes sense since we're boyfriend and girlfriend, right?"

Annabeth gnaws at her bottom lip, clicking her pen again. He was right. She hated when he was right. It was the scene that'd make the most sense, considering it was the most popular scene in the play, and she memorized all the lines ages ago. A couple of run-throughs with Percy and this would be an easy A.

"We could do the opening scene," Annabeth suggests, scribbling the idea into her notebook. "Because I really wanna bite my thumb at you right now."

Percy slides his elbows onto her desk, propping his chin up with one hand. A piece of his hair is sticking in the eyeblack on his cheek, and Annabeth resists the urge to fix it. "Or we could do the balcony scene."

"Or we could do the scene where Romeo kills Tybalt."

"Or we could do the balcony scene."

"Or we could do the scene where both Romeo and Juliet lay dead in the tomb."

"Or we could do the balcony scene."

Annabeth slams her pen into her notebook, drawing the attention of the group sitting next to them. She smiles uneasily before discretely leaning toward one of Percy's ears. "Do you have to be so annoying all the time?" She whispers through clenched teeth. She glared at him through narrow gray eyes, uncomfortably close to his face, and before she could move back, he tilted her head up with two fingers under her chin.

"I'm just annoying because you know we should, darling," he says, smiling at her endearingly.

Her nostrils flare. All afternoon, Percy had been testing her patience by calling her different nicknames. In her mental list, sweetheart and baby were at the top of what made her swoon a little, but anything close to "honey bun" made her want to puke.

She pulls away from him, folding her arms over the page. "Do you really wanna do the balcony scene? The whole "it is the east, and Juliet is the sun," head over heels after just meeting, star crossed lovers until they die," shebang?"

Percy shrugs, the fitted sleeves of her football jersey rising on his arms. "Sure. I mean, we're in love right?"

"You wish."

Annabeth didn't know why she was tempted to cave to Percy so easily. If he were anyone else, she'd get her way, even if they went back and forth forever. Maybe Percy was just so irritating, she'd be stupid not to relinquish; maybe she was growing soft.

She sucks her teeth. "If we do it, do I get my sweater back earlier?"

Last night, she'd stood in her closet, staring at the empty hanger in her closet. She had planned on wearing it to her study group that night, forgetting that it was gone. The pang in her chest rang deep.

Her sweater was like her good luck charm, like the pair of socks an athlete wore during every game, or the bracelet someone wore when taking a test to ensure they didn't fail. Wearing it, she felt safe. It was a piece of the mother she never really had. It didn't replace the running-into-her-arms hugs, or the mother-daughter talks about the boy she likes, or the stroke of the hair to comfort her after a bad dream, but it was what she had.

And now, it's probably laying on the floor of some frat house collecting mold.

Percy's face softens a little. "Yeah. I'll give it to you when you come over next week."

"What's happening next week?"

"You're coming over to work on our project."

Annabeth flashes back to waking up in his room full of mess. Had that been a half-eaten peanut butter sandwich on his dresser? She tries to hide her shudder.

But if she was gonna get it back…

"Alright. Now, you better start working on your lines."

It was the next night, and despite all the screaming fans surrounding her, Annabeth didn't like how quiet the student section was.

She was too used to the cacophony of the band blowing their horns in her ears, and the bass drum rumbling so deep, she could feel it in her stomach, and the shouting of Dr. Brunner over the microphone telling them to set up for the school song (and the lazy recalling of Mr. D ten seconds after Dr. Brunner was clear).

It was a miracle they'd let her sit with the students for even a quarter, let alone a half. Mr. D couldn't have cared one way or another, because he preferred anybody else as drum major, but Brunner was hesitant in letting her go.

"It's only for a half," Annabeth had pleaded after band practice yesterday afternoon, sitting in the woven chair across from his desk. "And I'll be back before the halftime show."

Brunner's mustache hairs bristled as he blew out a long breath. "The band needs you."

"The bands need a leader, and I don't have to be the leader all the time. Reyna or Octavian could do twice the job I could."

Alright, it stung saying that, especially in regards to Octavian, the pale-blonde haired, sunken-eyed, misogynist creep. They're sophomore year, he had tried cornering Annabeth in the band hall after all the other flutes had cleared out, trying to get her to admit that she "liked" him. Luckily, she slipped through his twig arms and reported it to Mr. D, who said he'd "look into it."

And now the kid was one of the drum majors.

After a lot more back and forth and a promise to turn in her composition two weeks early, he let her go. Though, he'd kill her if she wasn't back for halftime.

Annabeth reaches up to touch one of the orange ribbons in her hair. Piper told her that if she was going to be a convincing girlfriend, she had to go all out. That meant bows and fuzzy little pom-poms in her hair – and that meant she put her hair in two pigtails, something she hadn't done since she was eight. The entire ride there, she had to resist scratching the 18 – Percy's number – on her cheek, and the orange and purple handprints up and down her legs.

It was homecoming week of her senior year all over again.

She sits on the edge of the bleachers, arms wrapped around herself under her sweatshirt. The game started in half an hour. Piper was at the concession stand buying her a pickle, and Thalia was over with the band. Dozens of people chattered with their friends about this homework assignment or that girl who wore pajama pants to class every day

So despite all the people around her, she felt awkward... and alone.

She remembers in middle school when she sat alone in the library eating lunch. She didn't have any friends – to quote Gabriella Montez, she was the school's "freaky genius girl," and as much as she would've liked for that trope of "the smart kid being bullied" to be untrue, California was cruel to her. She wasn't like everyone else – therefore, she was weird, and if you were weird, you were bullied. She made a friend in her librarian, but that was the extent of it.

(Until camp that summer, when she felt seen for the first time.)

She hugs herself a little tighter.

Piper returns from the concession stand with an armful of snacks, ranging from M&Ms to nachos with neon orange cheese, an equally cheesy smile adorning her tan face. She tosses Annabeth her pickle, which she barely catches.

"Remind me why we had to get here so early?" Annabeth asks, unwrapping the foil. A bit of pickle juice runs down her hand. "The cheer team has performed the same cheer six times."

Piper dumps the snacks in her bag, balancing the box of nachos on her thigh. "We had to get good seats if you wanted to see your boo in action, right?"

They did have good seats. They're in the middle of the middle section of bleachers, not high enough to have to squint, but not low enough to fear a rogue football smacking her in the face. She shrugs and bites into her pickle.

"I guess. But never call him my "boo" again. We will have issues, Piper McLean."

As the sun sets, the stadium lights go on. The announcer in the press box advertises the concession stand hot dogs and thanks their sponsor – a local mattress company she always saw pass around flyers on campus. She's squished between the sudden flood of people anticipating the game's start. The band starts playing their school song, and the cheerleaders perform their routine.

And suddenly, Annabeth gets it.

Being a part of the band, this was something she never got to experience – the rush of seeing your school's team play, the surge of dopamine as you and your friends spend a little time together, and getting hype when your team scores. The stadium lights illuminating your young face. Your heart beats fast as you sing the fight song for the dozenth time.

In the band, it was a different rush. It was a rush of nerves, even though you could play the song in your sleep. It was the fear of accidentally getting out of time, or your shoe catching on a piece of debris on the field. It was trying to present as confidently as possible as you stood on that conductor's stand, guiding not only your classmates but your friends to produce a performance that'd somehow wow a crowd who couldn't read music to save their lives.

She liked the rush of both. But she enjoyed being in the crowd, even if it was for only half an hour.

Annabeth's years on the sideline didn't lend her any knowledge on the ins and outs of football, but she knew a good player when she saw one – and Percy was good. He played like the ball was an extension of himself, or like he was a hunter who could kill his prey with one shot. He knew where every one of his players were at any given time, and he'd throw the ball directly to their hands. It was like magic; it was almost sorcery. Even if the biggest linebacker clobbered him from behind, the ball was in the air and into his teammate's arms like it teleported there.

He had serious talent, and she could respect that.

She's standing in line at the concession stand to get another pickle, and even then she can't tear her eyes away from the TV monitor in the corner of the room. The crowd around her cheers when they make another first down.

"He's good, right?" says a voice from behind her. She spins around and nearly drops all her change on the ground when she sees the flurry of red curls that was Rachel Elizabeth Dare standing in front of her. "It's scary how accurate he is sometimes."

Wearing jeans painted with their school colors and a cropped sweatshirt just above her belly button, Rachel exudes pure school spirit chic. Her hair adorns multiple purple ribbons similar to Annabeth's orange. Annabeth has to refrain from gasping as she shoves her money in her pocket.

"Uh, yeah," Annabeth says. "He's… amazing."

Rachel nods, and Annabeth wants to ask her what product she used to keep her curls so shiny. Hers were constantly dry and dull. "Yeah. Though, watching him play perfectly every single game for two years gets kinda boring. Take my word for it."

Annabeth can tell her words have no mal intent, but she finds herself standing a little straighter. "Well, I wouldn't want to see him suck."

Rachel shrugs, propping her elbow on her hip. "Fair. But the same old thing over and over again, and it all turns to… blah. Or, at least for me."

She smiles sweetly, and again, besides from the so-sugary-it'll-rot-your-teeth look of it, Annabeth doesn't detect any ill will. She's telling her version of the truth.

Annabeth relaxes a bit and side steps forward when the line moves. "Is that why you broke up with him?"

"Am I that easy to figure out?" Rachel purses her lips. "Well, yeah. I'm not saying that it'll happen to you guys, but… I don't know. He never opened up to me. I think he was so afraid of messing up, he kept everything… the same. He always took me to the same restaurants because he knew I liked them, he always bought me the same flowers because he knew they were my favorite. I just got tired of it." Suddenly, her eyes get big, and she reaches out to grab Annabeth's arm. "Don't tell him I said that-"

"I won't," Annabeth finds herself saying, giving her a reassuring smile. "Your secret's safe with his new girlfriend."

The corner of Rachel's mouth twitches up, by the time Annabeth finishes ordering her pickle, she's gone.

When she finds Piper again, their team is up 24-6. The crowd cheers again.

Annabeth's fixing her hair in the bathroom when the door opens, and in comes a sweaty Percy Jackson with his helmet tucked under his arm. She glances over at him, and he tosses her a small smile.

"Did you like what you saw?" Percy says jokingly, rubbing his hand up and down his torso. "I was amazing, right?"

She sticks a bobby pin to lock down the loose curl in her bun, then wipes off the last smudge of black paint from her cheek. "Yeah, actually. You were."

She turns to face him, adjusting her white gloves. Their gazes linger from across the room, but the buzz of her phone makes her tear her eyes away, and she grabs her bag. That buzz meant the halftime show started in five minutes, and she couldn't be late. She pushes past him to get to the door.

Before she can leave, he grabs her arm. "Really?" he says. "You think so?"

Annabeth pats his arm, half to reassure him, half to push him away.

"I know so. You got real talent."

She pushes out the door before her guilt could settle in anymore.

Annabeth's conversation with Rachel plays in her head throughout the entire next day, and even Percy begins to take notice.

"You okay?" he asks, glancing at her from the driver's seat as she curls up with her hot chocolate next to him. "You seem distracted."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine. Just… life."

It wasn't far from the truth, but it wasn't her life she was talking about – it was his. If this whole relationship was set up to get Rachel back, and Rachel didn't seem like she even wanted him back, what was the point in them doing all of this? Was she really jealous when she heard about the two of them at the party or was it just heard through the mangled grapevine? Should she tell him they could call it off and break his heart before they were in too deep?

She knows that she should tell him… but then the next week comes and goes, and surprisingly, it's kind of easy being Percy Jackson's "girlfriend."

He picks her up for class every morning at 7, and Annabeth makes it a point to try a different breakfast place. On Monday, it was the Denny's on campus. Tuesday was Starbucks muffins.

("I memorized the entire choreography to "Cruisin' for a Bruisin' from Teen Beach Movie."

Percy sinks his teeth into his muffin, looking at her quizzically. "Oh yeah? Why?"

Annabeth shrugs. "Boredom. Plus, I'll be the coolest girl on campus if I bust that out at Homecoming."

"If you start cruisin' for a bruisin' at Homecoming, I will leave you on the dance floor."

"Good. You'd just be in my way anyway.")

Though on Wednesday, she leaves him out of her diner tradition, as Piper and Thalia practically begged her for updates. She gave in as long as they paid for her French fries.

"It's not awful," Annabeth says. "I'm actually kind of having fun."

Thalia, who decided on pancakes and way too much bacon, wipes her sticky fingers on a napkin as she gives her a bewildered look. "Really? I don't think I've heard you say those words ever."

"Well, there was that one time we watched Jeopardy," Piper points out, sipping her water. "And she swept the Ancient History category."

In Annabeth's defense, she liked winning. And winning because of her excess of useless knowledge was a major plus. Still, she rolls her eyes.

"I'm serious. He's kind of sweet sometimes, even if he is annoy-"

"Have you guys kissed yet?" Piper interrupts, resting her chin in her hand. "That was one of his conditions right?"

Annabeth's cheeks flush. "No. There hasn't been any reason to. Everyone believes us."

They didn't even have to play it up much at all – with all the public displays of affection, it was even harder to clock Annabeth and Percy on being fake. It was smart on his part. The rest of it came easy.

On Wednesday afternoon, she's in his room, sitting crisscrossed on his blue bed sheets as she pulls up a word document. Percy sits on the floor beneath her, scouring over a page in his copy of Romeo and Juliet.

"Why were they so horny?" Percy says, flipping the page. "Didn't they meet the same night?"

Annabeth types the header of the essay, nodding her head. "Yep. He'd been in love with another girl moments before they met, too. Crazy what true love does to you."

"Crazy what sexual frustration and teenage hormones do to you, more like." Despite his distracting spoken commentary about the book, they had agreed that she would start the essay if he finished memorizing his lines. They'd tossed their lines back and forth for a while, and he was almost completely off-book, which impressed her. And aside from his occasional mispronunciation, he played a convincing Romeo.

"That's fair. Which stance do you wanna take on our essay: true love or sexual frustration?"

"If I know anything about my stepfather, argue the more controversial. He loves straying from the status quo."

"Then horny teens it is."

He puts the book on the floor page down and scoots around so he's facing her, and she has to restrain the twitch in her eye from seeing the bent crease.

"Why do you know so much about Romeo and Juliet?" he asks, propping his chin on the side of the bed. "Like, far past what we had to study as high school freshmen?"

Annabeth shrugs, but she knew the question was coming – she did know probably way too much about the play, and considering that she had a poster of young Leonardo DiCaprio playing Romeo up on her wall back in Boston, she was bordering obsessed.

"I don't know. It's a classic. I like Shakespeare."

"So does Paul, and I don't think he's memorized a single line other than the "if music be the food of love–"

"Play on. Give me access of it, that, surfeiting, the appetite may sicken, and so die."

"See what I mean?" Percy says, his voice raising an octave. "You're a Shakespeare nerd. Where did it come from?"

Annabeth avoids eye contact and traces her eyes back to her computer. Percy groans and pulls himself onto the bed next to her, gently reaching over to lower the screen. She turns to him with daggers in her eyes.

"The fact that you're avoiding my question means there's an answer."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're pushy?"

"Has anyone ever told you that you're closed off?" he mocks, moving his hand to her knee. "C'mon, Beth. I feel like I hardly know you."

She jerks her leg away, but she doesn't reopen her laptop. Maybe he was right – Percy proved himself to be a relatively nice guy, even if he was a smartass at times, and maybe opening up to him would better their… spurious relationship. She sighs, smoothing a piece of hair behind her ear.

"Fine." She sets the laptop aside, putting her hands in her lap. "I was twelve, and it was the summer before seventh grade. My dad sent me away to camp every year, mostly because he wanted to spend time with his new girlfriend, but also partly because I begged him to send me away because I was too independent for my own good.

"That summer, I developed a crush on a boy. He was tall and blonde and looked like someone straight out of Baywatch, and I was smitten from the start. He always paid attention to me, bought me gifts from the camp store, snuck out with me after lights out to go swim in the lake. I was… in love. Or, what I thought was love.

She looks at him because she knows she's starting to ramble, but he looks at her expectantly, nodding for her to go on. She takes a breath, a bit more encouraged.

"So, naturally, in my naive, nerd ass brain, I wanted to express my love for him, and I had found a copy of Romeo and Juliet in the camp library. I didn't know much about the play than other than the basic story everyone knows, but I made it my mission that summer to memorize the book so I could confess my love for him in the most romantic way I knew: at the End of Camp Talent show."

Percy winces at that, and she chuckles. "Oh, that's not even the worst part," she says.

"Then please, go on."

"Well, uh, that's exactly what I did. I kept it a secret from him as best as I could, but with my jittering excitement, he knew something was up. Still, by the time the day came around, he had no clue. I was so excited to be standing on that stage, with the whole thing memorized in my head to yell to the world how much I loved him. I decided on reciting Juliet's part of the balcony scene, namely the What's in a Name soliloquy. I… I even replaced Romeo's name with his."

In the middle of this, Percy had somehow scooted closer, but he refrained from touching her again, which she was glad for before she felt a familiar sting in her lungs coming on as she neared the end.

"We ended things after that. I made things uncomfortable, though, in my innocent little head, I thought it would be perfect, but it was far from it, and I realize that now. Even if it did take months of therapy."

"Woah," Percy says, reaching out to grab her shoulder just as a tear slips down her face. "What's wrong?"

Her eyes well up more, and she sniffs hard trying to keep her composure, but the words left her mouth before she realized what was happening.

"Anxiety happened. Standing up there, with everybody staring and laughing at me, I… I feel like I felt myself withdrawing. I never closed up like that before. It may have been a combination of everything that led up to that point in my life, but from that day forward, trusting people has been so… hard." She huffs without humor, wiping her fingers under her eyes. "High school was the worst of it; I was so stand-offish, the only friend I actually had was my half-brother."

Without warning, Percy envelops her in a hug, and she couldn't do anything except let herself be held, silently crying into his chest. He strokes the ends of her hair as she stains his t-shirt.

"I'm sorry, Annabeth," he says, squeezing her tight. "That must really suck."

Her breath shakes as she wraps her arms around his waist. "Don't be sorry. I'm alright now. I take my meds every day."

He's warm, and she doesn't want to let go. She wasn't expecting to relinquish all of her invulnerability so quickly, but she couldn't stop. He listened to her, and that was all she really needed to get going; it felt like nobody ever really listened to her, and when given the opportunity, she'd take it. After thoroughly ruining his shirt, she, slowly, draws back, drying her eyes with her sleeve.

"Well, I'm honored that you trusted me enough to tell me."

"You should be. Annabeth Chase is a hard shell to crack." She knocks on her forehead, giving him a weak smile.

Percy shifts on the bed so he's facing her more directly. "Why did you want to do Romeo and Juliet, then? And why did you let me choose the balcony scene?"

She shrugs. "I wanted to reclaim it. He'd be winning if I tied it to him, and I really found a love of Shakespeare that year. My therapist suggested that I read some of his plays to… cope, I guess. And I think I wanted to prove something with doing Romeo and Juliet, you know? Especially after you wouldn't lay off the balcony scene thing."

Percy slowly nods his head, his eyes boring into hers. Except, his gaze wasn't full of the pity she hated; it was full of understanding. Her shoulders relax a bit.

"Now, I can't be the only one who has to dish about my relationships," she says, playfully punching his arm in an effort to lighten the mood. "What about you, Romeo? Who was your first girlfriend?"

Percy, after pretending to gasp in pain, falls back onto his pillow with a sigh. "My first girlfriend was named Calypso when I was about 13. She has these big brown eyes and this pretty hair, and I was smitten from the day I saw her." He looks off in the distance wistfully. "We dated for two weeks before she broke up with me for the most popular kid in our grade."

A line appears between Annabeth's eyebrows. "You're telling me you weren't the most popular kid in your grade?"

"Far from it," Percy scoffs. He stands from his bed and crosses his room to his dresser, where he grabs the picture frame sitting on it. "This was me and my mom on the seventh-grade field trip she chaperoned."

He tosses her the picture, which she catches easily. Next to a very beautiful woman with long brown hair stands a short, pimply, prepubescent Percy, whose crooked grin never changed. Annabeth swallows a laugh.

"Oh, wow," Annabeth says, glancing between him and the picture. "Puberty was good to you."

Percy waggles his eyebrows as he collapses back onto his bed. "Coming on to me, Annabeth Chase?"

"In your dreams, Percy Jackson."

Annabeth turns back to look at him to find he was already staring at her. Their eyes meet for seconds too long, and randomly, she recalls that in middle school, she learned that only two percent of people in the world had green eyes. She wonders if half of that was concentrated in the raging sea that was in Percy's.

Adolescence did treat him kindly, and it was unfair. He had not one zit on his face, to Annabeth's at least five. She thought the acne shit ended in adulthood.

She clears her throat and looks back down at the photo, tracing her finger over his mom's face.

"You said your father was a fisherman, right? Where is he now?"

"My father died when I was three."

Her eyes widen, and she flips around to Percy, whose expression is blank. She frowns and reaches out to pat his hand. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to be invasive–"

"It's fine. We're opening up, right? I never knew him, so there's not much to miss."

She understands, and he can tell by the expression on her face, and it's his turn to relax. "I get it. My mother left when I was young, so she might as well be dead to me. The sweater I left over here was hers, actually."

Her last piece of leverage was gone, but she doesn't regret it. It was an eye for an eye – or, in this case, a dead parent for an absent one. He couldn't make fun of her for that.

"You're really one-upping me on the trauma, here," he says, laughing a little and leaving to go back to his drawer. He rummages around a bit before producing the sweater, tossing it back to her.

"I didn't mean to. I think we're all a bit messed up."

"You're probably more messed up than most. Anything else you wanna tell me?"

"If I told you everything, we'd be here all night."

Percy returns to his seat on the bed next to her. "I have time."

For a few hours, Annabeth allows herself to forget about the Rachel thing.

What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him, right?

Thalia's posted up in her reclining computer chair like a father waiting for his daughter to return when Annabeth finds her way back to her apartment.

"It's past ten," Thalia says, checking her imaginary watch. "You were supposed to be home hours ago."

Annabeth rolls her eyes and hangs her backpack on the rack next to the door, trekking into the kitchen to raid their pantry. "You're not my parent," she calls out, snagging a pack of peanut butter crackers. "And you're not the boss of me."

Thalia appears in the kitchen and approaches Annabeth quickly, grabbing her by the jaw and examining her face and neck. "I know. I was just making sure there wasn't any tomfoolery afoot. You're clear."

Annabeth shoves a cracker in her mouth, crumbs falling onto her shirt. "We were just working on our project. The romantic shit is purely for the public's entertainment."

Thalia purses her lips, humming softly. "Okay. That checks out. We still on for The Princess Bride tonight?"

Annabeth wipes the corner of her mouth with her thumb and forefinger and nods. Her and Thalia had made it a tradition between themselves to watch a cheesy romantic comedy whenever possible, and tonight allowed them the outdated and unrealistic travesty that was The Princess Bride.

"Of course. What better way to end my evening than to complain about the damsel-in-distress complex every fairytale likes to have."

Annabeth was afraid that Percy would act like he felt sorry for her now, but it didn't feel like that was the case at all; in fact, it felt the opposite.

"Steve Carell is your celebrity crush?"

Three days later, they'd been strolling hand in hand through campus, talking about whatever came to mind. Annabeth asked about his celebrity crush, to which he answered Charlize Theron and Margot Robbie who, Annabeth noticed, were both tall blondes. What to do with that information, she wasn't sure.

"I happen to think he's an attractive man," Annabeth says.

Percy turns to stare at her, but she gives him a clueless look, reveling in his confusion. She was being honest with her answer. She had a crush on him since The Office, and now, with the salt and pepper facial hair thing he had going, he only grew on her. Around a girl her age, she would default to Timothee Chalamet, but she was trying to open up more. She'd shared more with Percy in a week than she ever had with her own father.

"That's valid, I guess."

"Right?"

As they continued their walk, she could smell the romance in the air, which was weird considering it was nearing mid-October. Couples all around them were snuggled into each other like penguins for warmth as they headed to class – it was 48 degrees outside, and she finally convinced Percy to put on a hoodie, though, she couldn't talk him out of the shorts. Still, it was progress. She snuggles into her own reacquired sweater and sweatpants.

Percy swings their intertwined hands between them unconsciously, and Annabeth steps purposefully on a crunchy leaf in their path. They didn't have a destination in mind; Annabeth's next class wasn't until four, and Percy has football practice for five. They just walked, passing the cafe a block down the street that was full of tables for two sipping on warm pumpkin soup and affectionately staring into each other's eyes. And even though she was technically single, Annabeth didn't feel it. Not with Percy's large hand warm around her smaller one.

"What does Steve Carell have that I don't?" Percy asks suddenly, instinctively squeezing her hand a little tighter. "Is it the beard? Because I think I could grow one if you gave me a few months."

She couldn't help but notice Percy's pink cheeks. "What, are you jealous of Steve Carell?"

"No, just curious. He's like, 60, and compared to someone your age standing right here in front of you..."

"He's only 57," she corrects, secretly noting that he was the same age as her dad. "And he's funny, and he's kind, and he's a total DILF, and–"

Percy pretends to gag, which Annabeth only laughs at, swatting his arm. He looks down at her amusedly, bumping her shoulder. She bumps his back a little harder, giggling again when he stumbles off the curb.

"You're so stupid," she says, helping him regain his balance.

"Well, it made you laugh your cute little laugh, so I say it was worth it."

Annabeth's ears warm. "You think my laugh is cute?"

Percy's face reddens only a fraction, but Annabeth catches it. "Did I say that?"

"You most certainly did."

"Well, I guess I meant it."

Annabeth looks up at him, and he looks down at her, and for some reason, her heart starts pounding so hard, she can hear it. His eyes flicker down to her lips.

"What's your favorite song?" Annabeth says, quickly tearing her eyes away from his. She can see Percy's small smile in the corner of her eye.

"Whatever yours is."

"I'm serious. Your favorite song can tell a lot about you." She didn't know that for a fact, but it sounded about right. If he was into screamo or country, she could easily tag what kind of person he was.

"Fine. Probably… any song by Led Zeppelin. What about you?"

"Can't Take My Eyes Off You by Frank Valli. Original version."

Percy runs his thumb over the back of her knuckles, humming thoughtfully. "Sixty years ago, that would've been the most popular answer."

"Har har," Annabeth sneers. "You're one to talk. My grandpa listened to Led Zeppelin."

"Well, your grandpa has good taste."

Without realizing it, they ended up back in her apartment complex – she knew the crackling cement walls and cheap stone walkways looked familiar. Maybe it was her subconscious taking over and telling her she needed to go home. Maybe it was her subconscious telling her to take him with her.

She blushes at the thought. Despite already having done it once, she doesn't think she wanted to bed him again any time soon.

Though, as he turns toward her, tucking a loose curl behind her ear, she begins to second guess herself.

"What are you doing?" she inquires, narrowing her eyes slightly. Part of her wondered if he was putting on for the sake of pretending – the other part of her wondered if it was sincerity she saw behind his eyes.

"Nothing. I'm just admiring how pretty my girlfriend is."

His fingers linger behind her ear, and she unconsciously leans into its warmth, watching as he searches her eyes. "You really know how to put on, don't you?"

His green eyes dance mirthfully like he's reveling in how pink her cheeks turn when he looks at her like that. A few days ago, he said it was a nice color on her. She'd pinched his arm for that.

Suddenly, he leans down toward her ear, brushing a stray curl from her neck. "Who says I'm putting on?" he says in a whisper.

He pulls away with a coy smile, one Annabeth wishes she could smack it off his face. He was always full of coy, teasing smiles that never allowed her to get the upper hand for a second before he violently ripped it away from her in the most embarrassing way possible – when he did things like that, it almost felt too real. Like, if she shut her eyes hard enough, she could almost imagine they weren't faking it.

But her eyes were open.

And she decides once and for all that two can play.

She leans up toward him, balancing on her toes as her hand lands softly on his chest. His eyes widen slightly when she bats her own eyes at him. "You're a jerk, you know that, right?"

Suddenly, his arm snakes around her waist, and she draws back just in time to see his eyes darken. "I know. But I can't be that much of a jerk if you're letting me get this close to you."

He leans in toward her mouth, but Annabeth quickly turns her head so his lips landed on her cheek. He groans, his nose squashed against the side of her face.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Annabeth says, biting her lip to prevent the smile threatening to break through.

He pulls his head back. "I wanted to take my chances."

"You're gonna have to try harder than that, bud."

She wriggles out of his grasp and spins around, walking toward the building's entrance, her skin burning where his lips had been. Suddenly, she hears quickening footsteps behind her, and before she can start running, Percy grabs her by the waist and spins her around, forcing even more laughter from her.

"Don't act like you didn't want me to do it," he whispers in her ear as he rests his chin on her shoulder. She hears the sound of a camera shutter nearby, but she ignores it, leaning back into him. "You love me."

"Don't give yourself so much credit."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a complete disaster?"

Annabeth holds out her finger and watches her ball nearly make it to the pins before making a sharp left into the gutter. Percy snickers over her shoulder, and she promptly switches fingers.

"Shut your mouth, Jackson."

She pushes past him and takes a seat next to Piper, who consoles her with a pat on her shoulder. Annabeth sighs when a big fat zero pops up next to her name.

"Remind me again why we invited him?" She leans into Piper as Percy takes a seat across from the two of them with a giant and unfairly attractive smirk on his face. She sticks her tongue out at him, and he rolls his eyes. "Because he's kind of the worst."

"You love me, Beth," Percy says, tossing one of Annabeth's fries into his mouth. "It's also your turn, Pipes."

Piper sighs, and before she gets up, she leans down to Annabeth's ear. "Don't worry," she whispers, and her breath smells like pizza. "I'll kick his ass for you."

Piper trots off to pick up her purple bowling ball from the rack, and Annabeth turns to face Percy.

"You suck. I hate you." She leans into the bench and folds her arms over her jean jacket Piper gifted her for her 20th birthday. "Screw you and your perfect score."

He gets up and replaces Piper's spot on the bench, throwing an arm over Annabeth's shoulders, and against her will, she leans into his chest. "You love me," he says, pressing a kiss to her hairline. "Me and my perfect score."

Annabeth purses her lips. "That's debatable."

Percy chuckles, and Annabeth feels the vibration through her whole body, and she falls deeper into him, breathing in the scent of cheap bowling alley food and his cheap cologne.

Percy had somehow convinced her to let him take her on a date, and she didn't know how. By the looks of it, it was a great idea, because every college kid in town frequented their local bowling alley – she'd managed to convince Percy to let her bring Piper, who had somehow figured out that Jason Grace would be making an appearance. It was also only a coincidence that Rachel happened to be here a few lanes over, bowling with her friends, but Percy had been stuck to her side since they arrived.

She had to admit it, though. The forehead kisses were nice.

She was a slut for attention.

Unfortunately, bowling was one of Annabeth's weaknesses. She was coordinated in most other things: dancing, running, badminton. There was just something about throwing a heavy ball down a length of wood to knock down pins that troubled her.

Piper makes her way over to their table and benches, making a face at Annabeth and Percy, and Annabeth glances up to see an animated drawing of a bowling pin painting the word "Strike!" across their monitor. Annabeth holds out her fist.

"Good job, Pipes! I'm surprised you didn't shout for the whole alley to hear."

Piper accepts her fist bump and plops down across from her. "I would've said something, but I didn't want to interrupt your little cuddlefest. You guys are gross, by the way."

Annabeth can feel the blush creeping up her neck as she wiggles out of Percy's arms and stands, her feet sliding in her bowling shoes. "I hate both of you."

Percy's protests fade to the background noise as Annabeth grabs a green bowling bowl from the rack and pushes a finger into each of the three holes. She slowly brings the ball to her chest and takes a deep breath. She got this. She would not end this game a complete loser.

She releases the ball.

Immediate gutter.

She storms off the alley, and Percy and Piper look at her with pity. She shrugs Percy's hand from her back. "Why am I a complete failure?"

"You can't be good at everything, Beth," Piper says as she finishes off the last of the basket of fries. "Bowling is just one of your faults."

Annabeth frowns as Percy gets up to take his turn. This goes on for another half hour, in which Percy makes an astounding four more strikes, Piper capping her turns with two spares, and Annabeth finally settling with five pins hit.

It's a win in her book.

She's talking adamantly to the both of them about how her Cal III teacher's toupee fooled absolutely nobody when she felt a presence over the three of them. Annabeth glances up, and Drew Tanaka stands above them with dagger-like stilettos (how is she wearing stilettos in a bowling alley?) and pink eyeshadow bright enough to deter carnivorous predators.

Drew Tanaka was a year below them, but renowned in the school for her body count. And we're not talking about the amount of people she's had sex with – we're talking kill count, her metaphorical kill count in which she can destroy any person's reputation with a flick of her Twitter fingers. Though Annabeth had never done anything to ruin her, she was terrified of Drew. And by the way Percy's grip tightens around Annabeth's shoulders, he was too.

And now the two of them had something that could ruin them.

Rachel, from lanes over, sends a sideways glance at the scene.

"Hey guys," Drew says, leaning on the lane dividers. "So nice to see the new couple all... snuggly."

Annabeth hums in agreement, resting her head on Percy's shoulder. Piper gives a cautious look. "Yep. We're having fun here. Are you?"

Annabeth had never spoken to Drew Tanaka before, and she was almost starstruck. The girl was unfairly beautiful, in that Charlie's Angels, I'll-kill-you-if-you-look-at-me way. She'd probably thank Drew for stepping on her with those dagger shoes.

"I am," Drew says, her voice ending in a drawl. She swings her purse over her shoulder and lifts an eyebrow. "Percy, dear, are you alright? You seem nervous."

Annabeth glances back at Percy, who was a lot redder than normal, and he meets Annabeth's eyes. She gives him a small smile and reaches over to pat his knee.

"I'm fine," he says, although a bit strangled. "It's just… warm."

"It's October."

"Percy's a very warm-blooded person," Annabeth says in his defense, though she could say the same thing about all mammals. "And he flushes easily. Now, is there a reason you came over here?"

Her boldness obviously surprises Drew, because she takes a step back. Piper, who'd caught on to the palpable tension in the air, slipped away to the bar to refill their fries.

Bastard.

"No," Drew says, shifting legs. "I just thought it was… interesting how quickly you two have got on. It was only a few weeks ago you and Rachel broke up, right, Perce?"

Sirens blare in Annabeth's head. If anyone could've connected the dots, it was Drew Tanaka – her dark eyes sharpen like arrows as she glances over the two of them. Annabeth

"Your point?" Percy asks, drumming his fingers.

"Nothing. I just don't know what you see in the little band girl that Rachel didn't have."

Before Annabeth could even react, Percy jumps to his feet and points an accusatory finger in Drew's face. Drew stumbles back, catching herself on the lane divider.

"Would you leave us alone? Annabeth has never done anything to you."

Annabeth knows she could have stood up for herself, and she knows that Percy knows it too. But sometimes, she realizes, it felt nice to have stand up for you sometimes. So instead of being angry, she's flattered. Maybe having someone defend your honor wasn't always terrible.

Drew throws her hands up in the air, shrugging. "Alright. But for the record," she says, leaning into Percy, shoving one of her claws into his shoulder. "I don't believe you guys."

This time, Annabeth stands and rests a hand on Percy's shoulder. "We don't have to prove anything to you."

Drew purposefully draws her phone out of her pocket, waving it in the air in front of their faces. "Oh. Well, that's a shame. See you guys later, I guess."

She begins to walk away, and Annabeth is close to admitting defeat and calling everything off, when Percy suddenly calls: "We'll prove it. Next week. Just make sure your little Twitter fingers are ready then."

"You're on, Jackson," Drew calls, turning around and walking back toward a bewildered Rachel Dare. "You too, band nerd."

Annabeth glances over at the bar to find that Piper had taken company with Jason Grace.

At least someone had things go right.

"What are you planning?" Annabeth had texted him later that night.

Percy: ….

Annabeth: Perseus Jackson, I will kick your ass.

Needless to say, Annabeth was on edge for the next few days.

When Percy got back from his mother's for the weekend, he would divert the subject when she brought it up. If she bugged him, he would act like he wouldn't even know what he was talking about. She threatened, begged, pleaded for answers, but he wouldn't give her anything.

("I'll literally give you my firstborn," Annabeth says one day as they sit in class before Professor Blofis begins. "Fresh out the womb, bloody and all."

"I'm not Rumpelstiltskin, Beth. Why are you using your future unborn children as bargaining chips?"

"Because I do not like surprises."

"Well, if you know about it, it's not a surprise. Also, I have no clue what you're talking about.")

It's Wednesday when everything unfolds.

She's at band practice, twirling her baton between her fingers as she waits for Dr. Brunner to finish with Octavion's dozenth question of the day. He'd wanted her to lead the practice for today, but Mr. D claimed Octavion "needed the experience." Normally, she'd be upset, but she needed to have her handle on the baton routine before the next game. She lunges into a split as she tosses the stick in the air, catching it with her opposite hand. She sighs a little in contentment.

Because she practices the move over and over again, she doesn't even notice when the band corrals themselves into marching formation on the secret signal of someone out of Annabeth's line of vision. She splits again, wincing with a bit of turf digs into her thigh.

Suddenly, the press box in the practice stadium crackles to life, which quickly garners Annabeth's attention, though when she looks toward the window, nobody's there. She deduces that it may have been a system malfunction and goes to twirl her baton again, but then there's a voice over the line.

"You're just too good to be true," the voice intones unsteadily. Annabeth raises an eyebrow and pushes herself off the ground, scanning the bleachers for the person the voice belonged to.

"Can't take my eyes off of you."

Annabeth's eyebrows shoot to her hairline, and dread settles at the bottom of her stomach when she recognizes the rune.

It was her favorite song.

And when she finally spots a small figure standing beneath the press box with a microphone in his hand, she could recognize those shoulder pads from anywhere.

On Octavian's signal, the band begins to play. Annabeth whips around quickly, just in time to catch Thalia's small smirk as she brings her clarinet to her lips. She was in on it. How did he get all her friends to turn on her like this?

Percy skips down the bleachers at a speed any normal person would've fallen at, singing in a shaky, croaky, kind of terrible but definitely adorable voice. He grimaces at a voice crack, but Annabeth can't help the wobbly smile that begins to overtake her face. The band – her band, who'd all managed to keep a secret from her for who knows how long – fades into the background as her feet move her subconsciously toward the stands. He was entirely awkward trying to make his way down in his clunky uniform, attempting to sing a song he probably barely knew, in his best attempt to be some semblance of romantic, and as much as Annabeth didn't want to admit it, she was even fooling herself by just how hard he tried to make her happy.

Plus, the song was about how much he loved and needed her.

It was hard trying to constantly remind herself it wasn't real.

So, as they meet at the bottom of the stands, her baton long forgotten in the turf and Percy practically panting as the microphone threatens to slip from his grip, she lets herself forget.

"Taking inspiration from classic teen romcoms, I see," Annabeth says, crossing her arms. "Your effort was an A+, but the execution is maybe a C."

Percy's mouth drops as he flicks a piece of hair from his eyes. "I think I deserve at least a B. I even remembered you said Ten Things I Hate About You was your favorite, and when you said this was your favorite song..."

She shrugs. "That's fair. Fine. C+."

She feels the stares of dozens of horn players on her back, and it's then does she realize his mike was still on. He smirks when he catches what she notices, and he brings it to his mouth.

"Annabeth Chase," he says, her name echoing around the whole stadium, "will you go to Homecoming with me?"

The surprise must be evident on her face because Percy chuckles as he takes her hand. Intertwined, it should feel the same as it always has. But then he's looking into her eyes, his own open, kind, and honest, and Annabeth suddenly feels as flustered as she was the first time he'd ever done it.

She stands there for several seconds opening and closing her mouth, her words caught in her throat. He fulfilled his promise. While there weren't flowers or signs, he'd embarrassed himself and serenaded her in front of dozens of people, because she had wanted him to. He wasn't particularly taking the risk of possible rejection, but to give up your dignity for even moments to make a vague attempt in recreating her favorite movie scene of all time?

That was something, right?

Or was she deluding herself?

After several painfully long moments of silence, she finds her voice.

"Uh, yeah. I'll go with you."

The crowd erupts into cheers, and Percy almost knocks her over with the sheer force of his bear hug, but he grabs her waist so she doesn't fall. The layers of hard plastic protective gear make it difficult to get a good grasp, so she settles for looping her arms around his neck (and sanitizing the shit out of her arms when she finds that he's covered in sweat).

"Look at you, Casanova," she says quietly, her heart still stuttering when she can smell his cheap cologne. "You got every girl in here swooning for you."

He clicks off the microphone and tosses it to the ground, where she hopes it didn't break. He pulls back to look down at her, and for the first time, with a grin painted on his full pink lips, she feels like the only girl in the world.

Which was corny but…

She hardly cared.

His hand cups her jaw, and he slowly leans in closer. Annabeth's eyes flutter closed on instinct.

"You're the only person I'd want swooning for me. Also, I'm about to kiss you."

His lips were on hers, igniting every nerve in her body, through her fingertips and down to her toes. She tilts her head up toward him, weaving her hands into his hair and pulling him a little closer, and his grip tightens around her waist, pressing her body against his. He kissed her hard and like nobody was watching them, and he tasted like salt but not in a bad way.

She pulls away to catch her breath, and he rests his forehead against hers, his eyes crinkling in the corners as he smiles at her. She melts.

Fuck.

She was 100%, totally, completely, absolutely screwed.

She knew her heart was breaking as they held each other, but there was nothing she could do about it. It wasn't real. It was fake, and she agreed to it.

This was her fault.

So, she gave the people – she gave Percy – want they wanted, in spite of the sting in her lungs.

And she kisses him again.

She hopes Drew is satisfied.

(There were flowers on her nightstand and a giant sign with "Will you go to homecoming with me?" laying on her bed when she got home.

She immediately crumples the sign and tosses it in her trash can.)

It was that Friday – the day of the presentation – and in celebration of it going well, Percy asked her to go to a party with him the next week.

And by asking, he practically begged.

"Absolutely not," she says, shoving a folder into her bag before slinging it over her shoulder. Several students filed out of the classroom around them, but Percy stood promptly in the middle of the walkways as what was the most annoying roadblock ever. People that had previously congratulated them for their convincing romantic performance now glared daggers.

"Why?" Percy asks. "It'll be fun, I promise."

Annabeth hurries down the steps of the lecture hall toward the entrance, ignoring Percy's calls for her. She was being cold on purpose; maybe this way, her brain and heart would be in sync again.

They had one week left of their deal, and it was getting hard to keep pretending with him when she wanted anything but; he made it hard. She didn't know she'd gone from hating him to… whatever this was in less than a month, but she was here, and she was hurting, and she wanted nothing more than to be alone for once. She tried convincing herself that Percy wasn't good enough for her, anyway. He was an irritable asshole, and he drank too much, and she found him incredibly annoying and gods know she didn't want to deal with that for longer than she had to.

But then there were times, like when she and Percy discussed going as a football player and a marching band drum major to Homecoming, she wanted to be like this forever.

Percy's nearly caught up to her by the time she passes Professor Blofis' desk, and she's almost completely out the door when he calls for her. She turns. Blofis looks between the two of them with the widest grin she'd ever seen on the man's face.

"Can I speak with you two for a minute?" he asks, lowering his laptop and propping his chin upon his hands. Percy glances at Annabeth wearily, but Annabeth focuses her full attention on their teacher.

"Of course," Annabeth says. "What do you need?"

"Well, I just wanted to let you know that that was a very... convincing portrayal up there." His brown eyes twinkle and Annabeth refrains from making a face. "Almost like two actual lovebirds."

The performance was easy, in Annabeth's opinion; it was almost too easy pretending to be so lovesick over Romeo. Maybe it was the weeks of practice she'd gotten from pretending to fall in love with Percy.

Yeah, that was it. The practice.

Conveying the balcony scene without the balcony was strange, though, because while there'd typically be a wall and a height separating them, Annabeth and Percy had to be up close and personal. Telling Percy that if he were a bird, she'd crush him by petting him too much was weird standing mere inches away from his body. Percy had even taken it upon himself to plant an unscripted kiss on her forehead before they bid each other adieu.

Her face burned through every other presentation.

"Well, we definitely practiced hard," Annabeth says, shifting her weight to either foot. "Glad it paid off."

Percy stands directly behind her, and his warmth radiates off him. Annabeth sucks in a sharp breath when he rests a hand on her shoulder.

Blofis nods his head delightedly. "If you don't mind my prying, I couldn't help but notice how close you two have gotten over the course of this project."

Annabeth stifles; she remembers the first day he'd assigned it like he knew what would happen. Percy's homecoming proposal had been the talk of the campus for days now, and she couldn't go anywhere without people bombarding her with questions; it was no surprise that her professors had heard about it too. She opens her mouth to speak, but Percy cuts her off before she could.

"That's enough, Paul," he says, and she's entirely startled by the sudden lack of formality before she remembers that this was his stepfather he was talking to and he could do that. "We're leaving now."

He guides her through the door, much to her chagrin, sliding his arm over her shoulder.

"So about that party…"

She shrugs his arm off, taking several steps away from him. "Do you remember what happened the last time I went to a party?" she asks, throwing him a look of bewilderment. "We slept together. That's how we got into this whole mess in the first place. Do you really think I'd want to go to another one?"

Percy reaches out to touch her again, but she shies away. "Is this really about the party, Beth?" He asks, an emotion she doesn't recognize passing behind his eyes. "Or do you have a sudden issue with me for no reason?"

She was projecting. She knew she was. He didn't do anything wrong; she was the one pushing him away.

But she was protecting herself, from him and her own feelings.

"I don't have an issue with you. I just… I don't want to go."

Not with you.

When he visited his mom that past weekend, he told her about Annabeth.

He hadn't told her about Rachel until six months in.

In truth, he didn't even mean to tell her about Annabeth. He'd been bouncing his baby sister on his knee while his mom stirred the pot of pasta sauce on the stove, and she'd asked about school. He said he was doing well, actually, despite his near-failing grades at the end of the last semester. Sally had asked him why that was. He mentioned Annabeth's name. Then his mother mentioned Rachel, and Percy didn't even flinch when he told her they broke up.

("Was it because of this Annabeth?" his mother inquired, turning off the heat.

"No, Mom. We broke up before I met Annabeth.")

To Percy, Rachel was like that plate of chicken tenders at a restaurant you've never been to before.

Safe and hard to mess up.

She had that familiarity he'd grown accustomed to: her frizzy red curls, those three freckles under her right eye, that one chip in her canine tooth from when she bit too hard into an apple core.

And Annabeth was like… frog legs.

She was different. At first sight, you didn't know what to make of her: she's intriguing, but also scary and off-putting, because why would you eat frog when there were so many other options? But, when you sank your teeth into her, you find that she tasted just like chicken. She was familiar, but in a new way, and suddenly, you could get enough of her.

And Percy knows he shouldn't compare people to food, but it helped him process.

Percy was starting to think that he liked frog legs more than chicken strips.

And it was weird.

Because suddenly, he couldn't get the taste out of his– er, he couldn't get her out of his head.

He shows up at the party by himself the next week, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket, which he was wearing because of the constant nagging of Annabeth's voice in the back of his head telling him to. He scans the living room, not sure if he was looking for someone or if that's what his instinct told him to do. People slump across sofas and chairs, and drunkenly lean against the wall, and the music's too loud, and when someone brushes past him and sloshes their drink onto his shoe, his face crumples in disgust.

He hated alcohol.

People greet him as he makes his way through, though their sideways glances and raised eyebrows lets him know they're wondering about Annabeth. Her name slips from their lips when they think he's out of earshot. Percy's nails dig into the soft flesh of his palm.

Somebody clasps him on the shoulder, and Percy immediately tenses, spinning around, then softening when he realizes it's only his friend, Jason.

"Hey, man! It feels like I haven't seen you in forever!" Jason exclaims, slipping his glasses back up his nose. While Jason was graceful and agile on the soccer field, you'd never guess it by the way he thought it appropriate to wear a tux to a college party. Percy smiles, anyway. If Jason Grace was reliable for one thing, it was to overcompensate.

"I know," Percy says, rocking on his toes. A girl pushes past the two and throws them an attempt at a sultry glare, which Percy promptly, and probably rudely, ignores. "I've been… busy."

"With Annabeth?" Jason asks, wiggling his eyebrows. Out of the six total people in the world who knew about their deal, Percy had probably trusted Jason the least to keep it a secret, and that was with the knowledge that Leo Valdez knew too. Jason – a stoic leader in all things… well, everything – was also a huge gossip. Surprising, Percy knows. But with the trust the professors put in him being junior class president, Jason knew a decent amount of tea from them. Nights out with the boys were more gossipy than People's Magazine.

Still, Jason had kept his word and told not a soul. This did not stop him from teasing Percy about it.

"Yeah, with Annabeth," Percy says, rolling his eyes. "She is my girlfriend."

"Oh, right." Jason winks terribly, then readjusts his glasses once more. "She wouldn't put in a good word for me to Piper, right?"

"I'm not asking her to do that." Percy wanders over to the snack table and shoves a handful of Cheez-Itz into his open mouth. Jason follows him, carefully squeezing next to the boy who was immediately right of Percy.

"I know. Just… thought I'd give it a shot." He picks up a plain potato chip between his two fingers and examines it like it was a bug. "I heard Rachel was at this party, you know?"

Percy swallows. "And I care why?"

Jason looks up at him quizzically and, after comically surveying the room, he leans in toward Percy's ear. "Aren't you trying to like, get her back?"

And… you know that carnival game where you have to hit the platform hard enough with the cheap rubber mallet to send the marker shooting up so it rang the bell at the top? Well, Jason's question was the mallet, the realization in Percy's brain was the ding the bell made.

Once upon a time, Rachel Elizabeth Dare meant everything to him. When he got to high school, Rachel was the only constant in his life aside from his mother. She was the one string pulling him home, the bridge his bungee cord was secured to at the end of the day, and on paper, she was everything he'd ever wanted in a girl. She was pretty and kind and smart and funny, and even when he was a total ass, she always forgave him.

Annabeth never forgave him when he was an ass; she let him have it because she knew her worth.

("Why are you taking Brit Lit, anyway?" Annabeth had asked him as she turned a spoonful of ice cream upside down on her tongue. "I don't take you for that kind of person."

"Well, I've always been interested in other cultures."

"I don't know if you could say Britain has culture."

Annabeth reached across the table and brushed a sprinkle from the corner of his mouth. She smiled innocently, flicked the crumb away, and went back to her own ice cream like nothing happened.

Except, to Percy, everything had.)

"Did you see her walk in?" Percy asks suddenly, turning fully toward Jason.

"Uh, no, but I heard she was here." He shrugs. "You're her ex. You should know where to find her."

Without another thought, Percy rushed upstairs to the bedrooms and lines of people waiting to pee, and he's 99% sure he hears somebody perform an awful rendition of Michael in the Bathroom, but he doesn't have time to dwell on it as he suddenly bursts through the first open door he sees.

Then he quickly closes it when he finds two semi-naked people on top of one another on the bed.

He has better luck with the next door. Rachel Elizabeth Dare sits in the people of the floor, crisscrossed, holding her thumb to her forefinger over her knees and humming to the beat of the music downstairs. When they dated, she'd never go to parties to party. She went for the "ambiance;" she meditated to the noise of other people. Percy never understood, but she didn't understand a lot about her.

"Red."

Rachel's eyes pop open. For the first time since they'd broken up, Percy and Rachel were in the same room. She looked the same as she always had. He had memorized every twist of the three most defined curls in the mane she called her hair. He could tell by the imprint of the hooks through her tight brown t-shirt what bra she was wearing - the lacy white one, the one with the stitching pattern out of sequence, the one she had to stuff toilet paper into to make her chest look even. He knew every scuff on her pale blue sneakers. He knew that every seventh eyelet on her cross necklace was rusted, and just how many tries it took her to put it on before she needed his help.

Nothing had changed.

And yet, everything had.

"Percy," Rachel says, getting to her feet. "Didn't think I'd see you–"

Before she could finish her sentence, he rushes up to her, grabs her by the back of her neck, and pulls her mouth against his, kissing her like he'd never stopped. Her fingers involuntarily curl into his sweatshirt just like they had the first, tenth, twentieth time, and he pushes a hand through her messy curls, marveling how silky they were. She still tasted like kale salad and cherry lip balm.

Annabeth's lip balm was strawberry flavored.

He released her as quickly as he had her, his breath ragged, and her face stunned. Slowly, Percy shakes his head. Rachel's eyes widen in realization.

She'd always had a knack for reading him so quickly. For that, he'd always be grateful.

He tears out of the room, then out of the party without another word spoken.

And the echo of the camera shutter still rings in his ears.

News spreads fast.

"Beth, you'll have to come out of your room sometime."

Annabeth sits on her floor with her pen and notebook in hand, scribbling furiously across its pages. Her hand cramps write below her thumb, but she doesn't stop. Writing was the only thing keeping her from breaking down completely.

When she was twelve and started seeing a therapist, she'd given Annabeth a journal to keep all her thoughts in. Since she'd gotten it, it sat in the bottom of her drawer, completely untouched; she didn't even realize she'd brought it to college with her, but when she was rummaging through her things, she'd found the little blue notebook staring back at her.

So, she started writing.

It was stupid, really: she knew she didn't have a right to feel like this, knowing full well what the intentions of these agreements were. In the end, they both got what they wanted. She got her sweater and the grade; he got his girlfriend back.

She was happy for him.

So why was she so angry?

Annabeth groans and tosses her head back, trying to keep the hot tears from falling. She shouldn't be crying over this boy. It's not like he actually cheated on her. She knew this was going to happen eventually, she just didn't expect it to hurt so much.

It hurt. Like hell.

"I'm having plenty of fun here by myself, thanks," Annabeth says, writing so furiously, she tears a hole in the paper. "Call me when it's important."

The picture of Percy and Rachel's passionate embrace surfaced immediately after the party last night, and Annabeth had turned off her phone from the number of notifications that immediately blew it up. Annabeth had stared at the photo for longer than what was deemed healthy. He looked happy, and so did Rachel.

And she was furious with them both.

Annabeth, despite everything, had taken a liking to Rachel. She was honest; she couldn't blame her for that. At the football game, she'd told her she was done with him. Then she turned around and kissed her… well, boyfriend.

Annabeth had taken a liking to Percy too, but in an entirely different way.

She buries her face between her knees and yells.

This was heartbreak. She knew it once, now she knew it twice.

She avoided Percy the best she could; he called, and she blocked him. He approached her on campus, she turned the opposite direction and pretended like she didn't hear him. She stopped opening the door of her apartment for anyone without a key.

"I know y'all weren't actually dating," Leo says one day, digging his thumbnail into his orange's peel, "but he talks about you all the time. If I have to hear your name come out of his mouth one more time, I might just lose it."

Annabeth was very reluctant to leave her house since she didn't have to, especially since she had a meeting later that evening. Her public appearances were for the sake of the relationship – really, this was her first time being alone in weeks. She'd fully planned on lounging on her couch and binging trashy Netflix dating shows and attempting to finish her homework when Leo called her and asked if she wanted to go to one of his friend's gigs with him and Piper. After several minutes of persuasion and a promise that she could leave the moment she wasn't feeling it, she agreed.

Piper bumps Annabeth with her elbow. "See, Beth? He cared for you. Give him a chance."

Annabeth tugs on the sleeves of her sweater. The gig was at one of the underground bar scenes on campus, one that she learned through the grapevine didn't check IDs. Despite this, Annabeth nursed her Dr. Pepper as Piper waited for her cheese fries and Leo peeled the orange he had sitting at the bottom of his bag.

Which, at this point, Annabeth didn't even bother questioning.

"I don't know," Annabeth says, twirling her straw in her drink. "I mean, we only did it so he could win back his ex-girlfriend. He doesn't – we didn't actually like each other. We're just… friends. This is what he wanted."

"Friends, schmiends." Leo shoves his finger under the peel and rips it away in a way that's a lot more violent than Annabeth anticipated. She cuts her eyes away. "I hadn't heard him talk about Rachel in weeks."

Annabeth's chest rises a little at that, denying her elation. "You'd think he'd say something, then. Why string me along for no reason?"

"Oh, there's a reason, hun," Piper says, as the bartender slides a basket of fries in front of her. She thanks him with eyes alight and shoves a forkful into her mouth. She hums with approval.

The sound system squeaks, and the rowdy crowd immediately quiets as a man with long hair adjusts the stand, bringing a microphone to his mouth. "Alright, guys, to kick things off, let's bring out a crowd favorite for you guys tonight."

Annabeth bends toward Leo, who tears a slice of his orange. "Who'd you say your friend was again?"

Leo winks. "You'll see. Trust me, you'll love it."

Annabeth readjusts in the leather barstool, entirely unconvinced.

"Please welcome Hazel Levesque to the stage!"

The crowd cheers politely as a young black girl with big curly hair steps onto the stage with a guitar larger than her. She perches on the wooden stool as she lowers the microphone stand, then waves to the crowd. Annabeth's face softens.

"Hi everyone!" Hazel says in a chipper voice, propping the guitar on her lap. "Tonight, on the behalf of a friend who couldn't be here, I'd like to dedicate this performance to a girl very close to his heart." Her eyes search the crowd, and when they land on her, they light up, and Annabeth can't help but notice the sinking feeling in her stomach. Hazel shouldn't know who she was unless someone had given her a description. "Annabeth Chase, this is for you!"

Immediately, as if they sensed her presence, everybody turned to look at her. Annabeth sinks into her seat, her entire face burning.

As Hazel begins her soft strums, Annabeth feels a terrible whooshing in her gut. Piper and Leo set her up; why else would they have been so adamant to get her out of the house? No matter how hard she tried, Percy was everywhere: in the song, in the food, in her head. Why would he do this? Was there a reason? A method to his madness? She guesses such a romantic gesture would prove to everyone they were together, but what was the point anymore? There was no need for it.

Was he messing with her?

Hazel's croons are a lot harder and raspier than Annabeth had expected, considering the softness of her appearance. They almost had a Bob Dylan-esque vibe in their delivery, a soulful tone with the need to say something. Except, this something was about love. Annabeth didn't recognize the song, but the lyrics were obvious: it was a love song. She had the crowd mesmerized with a voice that filled the room. Nobody talked; nobody dared to say a word. And when the song ended, there were several seconds of silence before the room exploded with applause.

Annabeth turned back to sip her drink, hoping nobody noticed the tears slipping down her face.

When the song's over, she quickly brushes her tears away with her sleeve and turns back to her friends, but they've disappeared into the crowd to talk to Hazel. Sighing, she sips down the rest of her drink.

"Piper's right, you know. He does care about you."

Annabeth whips around and, for the second time, Rachel Elizabeth Dare appears behind her, rocking heart-shaped hooped earrings and a flowy white shirt reminiscent of the 70s disco era. She looked good, like always, and Annabeth's eyes were puffy. Instantly, she's filled with burning rage.

Which is dampened by the wetness of her emotion.

"Why were you listening to our conversation?" Annabeth asks, turning her back to her. If there was one thing she didn't want right now, it was to cause a scene in public. Especially over a boy, and especially over a boy she never even dated. She could practically feel the stares burning into the back of their heads. Two exes of the quarterback. What petty drama this would provide.

"I overheard." She straddles the stool next to Annabeth, and Annabeth hops into the seat over. Rachel's mouth hardens. "But I'm serious. He...he told me about the "deal," and while he said it was never meant to go that far, he also said he never meant to hurt–"

"And why can't he tell me this?" Annabeth says, turning her head to glare at the redhead.

"It's not like you're giving him a chance. Also, he never asked me to do this. I'm doing this because I want to." She pushes a curl behind her ear and gives Annabeth a shy smile. Her earrings swing like a hypnotist's object, and Annabeth's eyes follow. "I want to tell you that I'm sorry. I know he cares a lot about you, and I should've never let it happen. I never meant to hurt you, and I'd never steal another girl's boyfriend, even if he was my ex. Like I said: I broke up with him because we didn't work anymore."

Annabeth chews on the end of the straw, staring her down. She was still being honest. Annabeth never hated Rachel. She was kind and smart and knew how to dress. She wasn't the one who hurt her, and she shouldn't even have to apologize.

Annabeth stays quiet, and Rachel stands, shoving her hands in her pockets. "Just… give him a chance to explain, Annabeth. He's a good guy."

With that she leaves, and Annabeth watches her go.

It's the night of the Homecoming dance, and Annabeth is home alone.

Even after Piper and Thalia forced her to get completely dressed in her witchy garb – complete with brushed out frizzy curls and a fake mole, and a semi tattered, red-orange, floor-length dress with a corset that secured the food baby in her stomach – she didn't feel like going out to the Homecoming without the person she was supposed to go with. His proposal had meant everything to her; now, she was at home, passing out Reese's cups to whatever kid showed up at her door.

"Happy Halloween!" Annabeth says cheerfully, tossing a few pieces into the cowboy's pillowcase. He beams with a missing tooth, and his mom looks at her gratefully. Most people in their building refused to pass out candy to the building kids, and the ones who did did so begrudgingly with Tootsie Rolls and stained tank tops. Annabeth, however, loved Halloween. Even if she didn't get a chance to spend it like she wanted to, she'd at least pass the joy along to the children.

They were the next generation, after all.

She closes the door gently, setting the bowl on the nightstand next to the door. Luckily, the kids in this building were few and far between, so she could spend the next week pigging out on all the chocolate she didn't allow herself to have the other days of the year.

Playing spooky music on her speaker and binge-watching Hocus Pocus on a loop made her feel better. Piper and Thalia decided to get drunk off their asses at the dance; Annabeth wasn't one for the alcohol, anyway. She just prayed that neither of them got roofied. Luckily, Piper was being escorted by one Jason Grace, who'd finally gotten the balls to ask her out, and Thalia was going with Reyna, who she'd been seeing on the down-low. Annabeth was left single for the night.

And she was alright with that.

Maybe she was better off single. She'd been single for 8 years. Guys were dumb, anyway.

There's another knock at her door, and Annabeth scurries over to grab the bowl. When she opens the door, a very young, very tiny, and very unaccompanied girl stands outside, dressed in a pink dress and sparkly face paint, holding a tiny orange basket in front of her.

"Trick or treat!" the girl says, looking up at Annabeth with a megawatt grin. Something about it is familiar. She's not sure why.

Annabeth crouches down to her level and slips a piece of candy into her bucket. "Happy Halloween!" Annabeth says, lifting an eyebrow. "Where are your parents?"

"At home!" the girl says, teetering on her feet. The straps of her wings slip off her shoulders, and Annabeth reaches to fix it before ushering her inside.

"At home? Then how did you get-"

She's mentally preparing to become an adoptive mom at 20 years old if her parents don't show up, but then she glances up at her doorway and sees a man dressing like a football player minus all the pads staring down at the two of them.

"Percy…" Annabeth stands with the little girl's hand in her own, trying desperately not to react. Percy's eyes unconsciously trace over her figure, and she felt just as self-conscious as she did every other time he's done it. Suddenly, she wishes she was wearing 10 dozen winter coats .

"Ah, hey, Annabeth," he says, licking his bottom lip. "I see you've met my baby sister. Estelle, say "hi, Annabeth!""

Estelle rushes over to cling to Percy's leg, and he swings her up into his arms. The sight was so adorable, her heart clenched. A football player and a fairy princess. They looked like the poster cover of The Game Plan, except Percy was no Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson.

But he was still cute, and Annabeth resented it.

"Hi, Annabeth," Estelle says, her eyes glittering with the sparkles on her cheeks. Annabeth wonders if Percy did her make-up, but she highly doubts it; no guy understood the true art of glitter unless they were an arts and crafts connoisseur at a young age. Or a make-up artist but, judging by the smeared eye black across Percy's cheeks, she highly doubted that he was.

"Using your little sister as an excuse to come talk to me," Annabeth says, frowning and perching on the edge of her sofa. "I think that's immoral, in a way."

She couldn't get mad at him with a child around, and he did it on purpose. Estelle rests her cheek on Percy's shoulder, and Annabeth's heart melts. "I had to talk to you somehow," Percy says, propping her up on his hip. "What better day than on Halloween?"

Annabeth sighs, running a hand through her fluffy hair. "Percy, I thought we were done here. You got what you wanted, and so did I. We don't have to see each other again."

Annabeth finally recognizes the emotion that passed behind his eyes all the time – it was hurt. Like a puppy dog that got kicked in the face, or a kid being told his dad wasn't coming to his birthday party. Annabeth licks the front of her teeth, turning to look at her TV screen.

"But what if I wanted to see you again?"

Those are the words she always wanted to hear. Had he said it even a week ago, she'd fall right into his arms.

But he fell into his ex's arms.

Like he had always wanted to.

And. She. Was. Happy. For. Him.

Annabeth chuckles, like, genuinely chuckles at the situation, so much so that Estelle looks at her weirdly. She spent days actively avoiding him, and here he was at her home with his little sister as bait. She couldn't believe it. She loathed Percy Jackson at the start of all this, and now, they were in the weird gray area of the will-they-won't-they spectrum. Her 18-year-old self would've popped a blood vessel if she knew.

At her silence, Percy nods his head. "Alright, then." He slips his hand in his pocket. "If we're never going to see each other again, I think I least owe you this: we never slept together."

Annabeth, who'd been balancing on the arm of her sofa, nearly falls over; she braces her arms and stands, approaching him slowly. He sets Estelle down on the ground, and she hops over to Thalia's computer chair, immediately digging into her candy bucket.

"Excuse me?" Annabeth says in a voice that's shockingly calm. Percy's Adam's apple bobs in his throat.

"I wasn't drunk. I had a beer in my hand, but I'd just pour it into a houseplant when nobody was looking to make them seem like I was drinking."

"Then why…" her hand floated over her throat, where the bruises were still fading – she could get away without makeup now, but every time she looked in the mirror after a shower, she could still count every mark.

"There was another guy at the party." He takes a long, slow, deep breath, and Annabeth can see his chest rise. "I saw you… and I know you don't need rescuing, but you were drunk off your ass, and he clearly wasn't, at least, not to the point where he didn't know what he was doing, and I had to do something. I took you back to my room – you had started taking off your clothes, but I gave you my shirt to keep you warm. Which, you never gave back, by the way."

And… Annabeth had only been punched once: in the chest, by her half-brother, Malcolm, back when they actually knew each other. He didn't do it on purpose; they'd been play-fighting, and his fist accidentally connected directly with her underdeveloped chest, right where her heart was. In that moment, she recalled that if he had punched her exactly on a certain beat of the heart-rhythmic cycle, he could've killed her. Annabeth thinks the sensation would be similar to how she felt now: heartbeat still, throat closed, knees ready to give out underneath her. She stumbles back onto the edge of the sofa, and the sounds of all the ghouls wallowing in her speakers fade into the jumbled mess of her racing train-of-thought.

"Percy," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't. I know that I wouldn't want to know, and I'd rather you think I was a total jerk than… that. I don't know. I should've–"

Annabeth's mouth is moving before her brain even registers it: "I knew Rachel didn't want you back."

Percy stops abruptly, his open fingers slowly drooping toward his palm. His head lifts until he's looking her in the eye, and she stares back, feeling every part of her face turn pink.

"You did? How?"

Annabeth circles her thumbs over one another, and she hopes her hair is big enough to cover her flaming ears. "She told me. At the game I went to. So, I haven't been completely honest with you, either. I can't be mad at you for that."

There's a silence that's only occasionally interrupted by Estelle's opening of her candy wrappers. They should probably stop her from eating so much candy, but Annabeth knows they're both frozen, confessing, realizing. Focusing on one point for so long, everything around her starts to blur. Was that a pillow or a fluffy white dog on her sofa? She couldn't even tell you, at this point.

"So, I guess we're even," Annabeth says, her gaze falling back down. "But can I ask you one more question?"

Their position in the room is awkward. She sits on her sofa's edge, and Percy stands only feet away from her doorway like he's plotting to escape at any moment. She couldn't even touch him with her toe if she extended her leg. A part of her wants to grab him by his hands and pull him into her.

But she couldn't. Because it was over.

"Yeah," he says.

"Why did you kiss her?"

His jersey is orange and wrinkled, and if she got any closer to him, she's sure it would smell like sweat, but it makes him look tan, even in the dead of autumn. It wasn't fair. But nothing in life was.

"I had to know."

"Know what?"

"If I still felt it. With her."

Annabeth's eyebrows scrunch together. "Wouldn't you just know?"

"I was scared." He pushes away the dark hair threatening to flop into his eyes, which glances to his sister, who's still searching through her bucket. She could see the resemblance between her and Percy and their never-ending urge to eat any and everything.

"Of what?" Annabeth asks, her voice rising uncharacteristically. It was that thing called hope, again. The thing that got her here in the first place.

Percy opens and closes his mouth several times before any words come out. "I just… was." He goes over the chair and scoops up his sister, wiping chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "I'll see you at the game tomorrow, right?"

"Yeah. You will."

"Good."

He leaves, shutting the door behind him. Suddenly, the sound of the Monster Mash came flooding back into her ears.

Annabeth, Reyna, and Octavian lead the rest of the band onto the field at Dr. B's call. This was it – the biggest performance of the year. To commemorate the occasion, Piper had smeared orange glitter on her cheekbones – purple on Thalia's, much to the amusement of their fellow horn players, because seeing Thalia with anything other than thick black eyeliner was an intriguing sight.

But Annabeth couldn't focus on that now. Her halftime baton routine was her most complex yet, and if she messed up, she'd be the laughingstock of the school – more than she already was, of course. Everything had to go right. Her dignity was depending on it. She spins the stick between her fingers, running through her whole routine in her head. She had to do the splits in this uniform; she just prays she'd stretched enough.

The crunch of the turf and the smell of popcorn is familiar to her, and it puts her nerves at ease. This was her element. Reyna would be leading the performance today, but Annabeth was the star. The cameras would be focused on her. She'd be put on local television.

She breathes in deeply through her nose, then out again. Nothing else mattered right now. Not her, not Thalia, not Piper beaming with Jason in the stands, not… anyone.

She stops at her place on the 50-yard line, shaking out her sleeve. It was a cold and still November 1st. It was loud and silent all at once. She concentrates on the tug of her ponytail on her scalp, and the caked makeup behind her nails, and how her pinkie toe was being crushed inside her shoe, and the slight crush of her shoe against the ground, and the collective voice of the crowd murmuring quietly and far away, and then they get louder, and then they get louder, and then they get louder, and Annabeth didn't even realize she had closed her eyes until they're open again.

The crowd was cheering.

And it was because Percy Jackson, in his dirty, glowing glory was running onto the field.

Annabeth turns to Thalia and mouths, "What do you know?"

"Nothing," Thalia says around the reed in her mouth. "Just watch."

Then he stops in front of Annabeth, and she has no idea where he keeps getting microphones or who's allowing him to get a hold of them, but he brings it to his lips, and he takes her hand. She looks down at their hands, then up to him again, narrowing her eyes.

"What are you doing?" she asks slowly.

He intertwines their fingers. "Something I should've done a long time ago."

(Which was, inherently, a cliche line, but she was much too shell shocked to point it out.)

"Annabeth Chase," he says, and hearing his voice in front of her and all around them was strange. "It's been two years since we first met, in a way that was probably more unconventional than most. I never got the chance to formally apologize for breaking your ankle, so I'm going to take the time now to say that I'm sorry. I was being an inconsiderate douchebag, and I never, ever meant to hurt you."

Her eyes widened – he was sorry. No man in her life had ever apologized to her – not her 11th grade English teacher when he lost the essay she was the first to turn in. Not her father when he forgot to pick her up from school for three hours. Not her Camp Crush/boyfriend when he openly laughed at her in front of everyone. And Percy was apologizing to her in front of all their peers.

He's staring at her, into her soul, real and raw and Annabeth almost cries right there, because she's cried with and over this boy more than she has for anyone, but she doesn't even regret it.

"So, you're apologizing for ruining my halftime performance by ruining my halftime performance?" Annabeth says, her voice lilting. "Don't you find that a bit, I don't know, ironic?"

Percy's grin grows. "You're not making things easy."

"I'm never going to make things easy, Percy."

She's light – it feels like it's only them, and not like thousands of people are watching them. She forgets about her performance, just for a bit, because they're… ethereal, it feels like. Gorgeous and kind and light and ethereal.

He leans his forehead against hers, and Annabeth tilts her head up until their lips brush. She could almost feel him giving into her before he pulls away a bit, the microphone the only separation between them.

"I was scared because I like you, Annabeth Chase. Like, in that real, not fake, genuine kind of way."

Her fingers tighten around his. "I know. Get in line."

The crowd cheers as their lips meet, but nobody but seven people in the world truly knows what happened that night – nobody knew the deal, or why Percy had to specify the authenticity of his feelings, or why Percy ever kissed Rachel in the first place. And that was fine with her. They didn't have to explain themselves to anybody – this was their lives.

And they'd live it like they wanted to.

Their halftime performance went great, by the way.

Though, not until after Mr. D chased Percy off the field.

Their win that night was the only thing keeping them off the trending page.

this was my longest fic yet, and I've been sitting on it for almost 2 years? it was only about 8k then, but I spent the last month working on it and now it's 30k...

it was corny and cliche and all of the above, but I feel like fake dating aus are like, a right of passage for ff writers? i don't know. anyway, i hope you're taking care of yourselves! times are really hard now, but there's a light at the end of the tunnel!

Until next time! ~ Aja