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The first thing that hits Percy when he walks into the room is smoke.
He can’t pin down what the second is—the music pounding in his chest, the alcohol assaulting his nose, the bodies mingling in the haze of neon light—but smoke is certainly the first. It spills from the mouths of those lining the walls, their faces underlit by lighters and obscured by billowing breath. The smoke alarm in this house must be disconnected, or maybe uninstalled entirely, he notes as two underclassmen (they have to be underclassmen) blow rings into Percy and Piper’s faces as they pass.
“Fucking Columbia kids,” Piper mutters.
Percy shoulders his way through a crowd of said kids. “Pipes, I hate to tell you this, but we’re at a Columbia party. That you blackmailed me into going to.”
Piper knocks her shoulder against Percy’s. “Giving your number to the cute girl in my Personality Theories class isn’t blackmail, it’s a favor.”
“Forgive me for not wanting to be psychoanalyzed on the first date.”
“Then you should’ve taken up my offer on cute Stats boy.”
“Maybe if you dropped the obsession with my love life, I’d be more likely to take you up on it.” Percy finds a space overlooking the crowd. “So, remind me who we’re looking for?”
Piper rolls her eyes at his obvious deflection. “Blond guy, blue eyes, glasses, little scar on his lip. Name’s Jason. He’s got some crazy Chris Evans shoulders going on, and—”
“Got it,” Percy interrupts. “And you know he’s here how?”
“He invited me in lecture the other day.”
“But he goes to Columbia.”
“Yeah, but he’s taking the psych course at Ithaca. Something about creating his own major. I swear I was listening, but his eyes lit up all cute, and—”
“Pipes.”
“I swear to god, it’s like you’re allergic to talking about romance.”
“I guess I won’t tell you where I see him, then.”
Halfway across the floor, between Percy and Piper and the dancing bodies on the far side of the room, is either Piper’s target or his twin. Bright lights reflect off his round glasses, his blue eyes shining with laughter as he tosses his head back. The usual protective streak Percy feels when Piper sets her sights on a potential prospect doesn’t rear its ugly head at the mere sight of the guy, so Percy figures they’ll get on okay.
Piper tugs his arm, pushing her way forward just as a bombshell throws her arm around Jason’s shoulders. Percy can’t make out the girl’s face, only long legs and straight blonde hair.
As they get closer, the interaction looks increasingly platonic. Jason shoves the girl’s arm away lightheartedly, prompting her to flip him off and double down in laughter. Her teeth downright shine against her red lipstick.
Piper gives Percy a glare that he reads as “You distract while I go for the takedown.” Usually he knows better than to argue with her tactic.
But Jason’s friend turns toward them then, her grey eyes catching the light, and Percy balks.
“Piper, abort mission.”
Piper continues her stoic march forward.
“Piper, I can’t. I have—”
And then Percy Jackson is face to face with Annabeth Chase for the first time in nearly four years.
He could say something smooth about graduation. The party. How beautiful she looks with that smile on her face.
Instead he says, “I almost didn’t recognize you without the princess curls.”
Three sets of eyes lock on him: Piper’s with shock, Jason’s with confusion, and Annabeth’s with… Percy can’t make it out, exactly. He knows college changes people—hell, it’s changed him—but the thought of being unable to read Annabeth Chase leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.
Her red lips tug upwards in a smirk, a cocky thing that used to lay underneath her smiles instead of devouring them. “Princess curls?”
Piper flashes Percy a glance that says we are so talking about this later , before whisking Jason away, meaning Percy has accomplished his task of distracting. He could bolt now and sulk across the room until Piper lets him know if she needs a ride home, and he’d never have to face the awkward conversation to come. He could take a number from Piper’s rotating list of attractive strangers and go on his merry way.
Percy picks his jaw off the floor. “Yeah, Princess curls,” he repeats slowly. Shame floods his system, heating his cheeks. This girl looks more queen than princess with her smooth hair, straight spine, and sharp eyes. She looks positively regal, all long lines.
“I wasn’t exactly high school royalty,” she says. And, well, she’s right. Because there’s no way the Annabeth Chase in front of Percy right now would ever have agreed to go to senior prom with him, but his mom has the pictures to prove it.
“No, you weren’t,” he agrees. The eye roll she sends his way is fond, familiar. It may be four years since the last time he saw Annabeth, but they were friends before that.
With Grover at a boarding school upstate without Percy and Thalia graduating well before Annabeth, the friendship began half out of necessity. If the other half was because Annabeth was wickedly intelligent, fun, and soft without her stony exterior, well. That’s Percy’s problem. But then again, friends usually don’t kiss you and run off to college upstate without a word.
“You look the part now though,” he adds, only slightly proud of himself for holding her gaze.
She laughs. It’s a pretty sound. “Good to see you haven’t changed.”
“What does that mean?”
“Still too sweet for your own good, a trademarked Percy Jackson trait.”
“So you’ve got me figured out?”
“I wouldn’t say that. I just have a good memory.” Annabeth takes a mild sip of her drink while Percy wonders exactly what she remembers about him. “So, what brings you here? Ithaca parties not cutting it?”
She must catch the way Percy searches for Piper in the crowd, because she narrows her eyes like she understands.
“Hero complex. Also a trademarked Percy Jackson trait.”
Percy takes a moment to process that. “Huh?”
Her smirk doesn’t help. “Not like. Creepy white knight syndrome. You just have a tendency to look out for the people around you more than most. Sometimes a little too much. Like I said, too sweet for your own good.”
How the hell is Percy supposed to respond to that?
He must frown, because Annabeth leans in. “If it was your idea to come here, I’ll one hundred percent lay off.” The smile on her face tells him she knows it wasn’t.
“She came to meet that guy Jason,” he admits. “Buddy system.”
They’re a cute couple, he decides. Even from across the room, Percy can see Piper’s radiant smile and Jason’s beet red cheeks. It’s a soft kind of flirting Percy doesn’t see from her often.
Annabeth knocks her shoulder against his. “Jason is a good guy. He’s been nervous about seeing her all night. Relax. Besides, it looks like your friend can handle herself.”
“She can, it’s just… I don’t need to tell you about assholes at parties.”
“You certainly don’t.”
It’s hard to make out Annabeth’s eyes in the dim light, but the smoke seems to sharpen the steel in them. Percy takes a second to reevaluate his stance on being psychoanalyzed on the first date.
Except this is not a date. Percy has run into an old friend from high school who has clearly moved on with her life. And despite Annabeth’s insistence, Percy isn’t who he was in high school either. They’re nearly strangers, he thinks.
Before he has time to dwell on that, Annabeth is close— so close —and Percy is too busy wondering what has driven her into his space to make sense of whatever she’s hissing in his ear. Her hands fist in the front of his jean jacket, pulling him flush against her as her back hits the wall. Percy has enough wherewithal to recognize the tinge of panic in her eyes, the way they fix on something behind him before searching his face.
“Kiss me,” she breathes.
Percy’s mouth opens uselessly. “What?”
“Pretend we know each other.”
“Pretend?”
More urgency this time. “Percy, please.”
Who is he to pass up a chance to kiss Annabeth Chase?
There’s hardly a moment to inhale before Annabeth steals his breath with a devastating kiss. She’s everywhere . Her hands fist his collar, tangle in his hair, run along his shoulders. Percy may not be the best at reading signals, but this is loud and clear. He gives as good as he gets: pressing Annabeth into the wall with the length of his body and holding her face with a gentleness that’s too intimate for making out against the wall at a frat party, but it’s Annabeth . Kissing her isn’t something Percy thought he’d ever do again, so he’s going to make the most of his last shot. For a moment, he forgets she said pretend.
Annabeth doesn’t go far when she pulls back, just a few inches from Percy’s lips. Their breath clashes in the space between them, heavy and uneven. “Sorry.”
“I cannot explain how much you do not have to apologize for that.”
That makes her smile, if only for a moment. “No, I do. And you have every right to leave, but if you stay for like, thirty minutes, I’ll owe you forever.”
She releases her iron grip on Percy’s jacket, but he stays close. “I’m in.”
“Don’t look now, but Luke Castellan is at your seven o’clock.”
The name bounces relentlessly against Percy’s skull, but he doesn’t look. “You’re avoiding Luke Castellan?”
“Long story.”
Percy backs up, leveling with Annabeth from a distance that allows him to think straight. “I’ll be here a while.”
Annabeth gives no sign that she heard him, instead choosing to frown at his lips. “You’ve got a little something.”
That something is Annabeth’s lipstick. She takes Percy’s face in her hands and wipes it with her thumb, and her nose scrunches up in the cutest way. Percy can’t tell if her hand lingers because of Luke, the stain, or its own desire to be there, but he knows which reason he wants it to be.
Of course, he decides to shoot himself in the foot. “So… Castellan.”
Annabeth’s head hits the wall with a thunk. “None of your business.”
Percy holds up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just trying to figure out how you went from barely being able to speak in front of him to kissing me to avoid him.”
Her eyes dart over his shoulder as her face morphs into something that looks like hurt. Nothing outright—just a crack in the mask, a tensing of her jaw.
“Hey.” Percy comes closer, sidestepping to block Luke from her view. “You don’t owe me. I’m just… the Annabeth Chase in my head is a pushy know-it-all who listened to audiobooks to avoid speaking to ninety percent of the population. I’m just trying to put the pieces together.”
“I still listen to audiobooks,” she says plainly.
“That is so far from my point.”
“I’m still top of my class, Percy. That didn’t change just because I’m not sulking alone in the corner.”
“Annabeth.” He squeezes her shoulders apologetically. “It’s not a bad thing. Just not what I expected. That’s on me. But you’re still avoiding the Luke question.”
Percy feels some tension gather in her shoulders and decides it’s a good time to step back. It’s complicated. He gathered that much.
“I was a freshman in college and a hopeless romantic. He was an upperclassman who finally noticed that the girl who had a crush on him for years had grown up.” Annabeth shrugs, like the resulting disaster should be obvious. “That’s all it is.”
“Is? Like present tense?”
Hurt flashes in her eyes for real this time. She nods to something behind him and grimaces. “Was. Past tense.”
Luke is making out with a girl in earnest against the opposite wall. Percy can’t help but notice the differences between that and his own kiss with Annabeth, the remnants of which still tingle on his lips. It’s mindless, the way Luke touches this girl—all about the end goal.
Percy channels his anger into his fists and focuses on Annabeth, still debating whether he wants to kiss her again or give Luke a black eye. Both would be nice, but neither is an option.
Still, he takes a risk. “Do you want to get out of here?”
Annabeth grins, which would be a victory if he intended to make her laugh. “This party is for me.”
“And what’s the occasion?” Percy asks.
“My birthday.”
“Your birthday is in July.”
Annabeth blinks rapidly, then recovers. “Yeah, but Sigma Alpha Epsilon doesn’t know that.”
“And you’re so close with Sigma Alpha Epsilon.”
She smiles. “No, but they make killer jungle juice.”
Percy’s eyes widen. “Please tell me you don’t drink the jungle juice.”
Annabeth muttering something about Percy’s apparent hero complex is overshadowed by the reappearance of a beaming Piper. Jason is in tow, his fingers laced with hers.
“We’re going to grab some food,” Piper tells Percy in that tone that preempts his worry. They’ve been sharing their location for ages now, but he appreciates her not bailing on him without a word.
Percy waves her off. “Have a good night, Pipes.”
Piper’s eyes narrow at the way Percy and Annabeth are standing, which Percy has only just noticed is far too close for him to get out of this unscathed. Her desire to see Percy with someone must outweigh her instinct to embarrass him, because she slinks away with little more than a wink of approval. For Piper, it’s merciful.
Of course, Annabeth catches it.
“She’s nice,” she hums.
“She’s a menace,” Percy grumbles.
“Someone has to keep you on your toes.”
“Are you volunteering?”
“Pretty sure I’d give you an ulcer.”
“If college hasn’t, you won’t. Trust me.”
His tone must turn bitter, because she frowns. “That bad?”
He leans against the wall. “Nothing like slaving away and going into debt for one of the lowest-paying jobs in the workforce. I can’t remember the last time I bought something not school-related. I really think I peaked in high school.”
If looking at Annabeth’s lips didn’t fry Percy’s brain, he might notice how her smile turns sideways. “That can’t be true,” she says, mirroring him against the wall.
“Oh, yeah?”
“Mhm.” She tilts her head and looks at him in a way that makes it hard to breathe. “Because we never hooked up in high school.”
Percy chokes on his own spit.
In an uncharacteristic act of mercy, Annabeth throws Percy a lifeline. “You want to grab a drink?”
“Still don’t drink,” he manages.
Annabeth simply nods. That was always one of Percy’s favorite things about her: her ability to not make a big deal out of the things that others would get stuck on. With her, he can always tell when something really matters.
“Well, the birthday girl has been sober for too long.”
She doesn’t explicitly invite Percy along, but the way she says it makes him think he should follow. His suspicions are confirmed the moment Annabeth grabs his hand to tug him through the crowd. Percy wishes he’d taken a moment to wipe his clammy palms.
The kitchen is abysmal in the way any proper fraternity kitchen is required to be. Glittering handles adorn the tops of the upper cabinets, serving as the only decor in the whole building. Jack Daniels would be proud. Drinks, mixers, and a vat of jungle juice occupy the countertops, along with one couple that’s halfway to second base.
It’s impossible to miss the eyes on Annabeth as she carves a path through the college students. Admiring, wanting, and recognizing, but not an ounce of familiarity or fondness in any of them. A few brave souls raise a glass or wave, but no one attempts conversation with the supposed birthday girl.
Until she balks, then attempts to shove Percy back the way they came to avoid—
“Annabeth?”
None other than Luke Castellan stalks through the crowd, his shoulders back and head high as ever. His voice carries, catching the eye of more than a few kitchen-dwellers. Percy fucking despises him.
“ Jackson? I thought I saw you earlier.”
Annabeth puts her walls up, switching to a tone Percy hardly recognizes, oozing fake sincerity. “Luke!”
“Heard it was your birthday today,” Luke says. Percy hates that he feels Annabeth’s breath hitch. “Happy birthday.” The breath blows out of her, hope abandoned. “How’s it been?”
“Oh, we were just…” Annabeth looks at Percy, who understands without words what she’s asking of him.
He wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Leaving. We were just leaving. ‘Night, Castellan.”
Annabeth’s shoulders relax under him as she lets herself be led to the front porch, leaving the music, the smoke, and the stupid face of Luke Castellan in the house behind them. A steady drizzle tickles the lawn around them, painting the street with the soft blues and greys cast from the late night storm clouds.
“I don’t need a lecture,” she says the moment the door closes. She’s all stiff muscles, like she’s anticipating a fight.
Percy frowns. “I was going to ask if you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.”
At risk of looking patronizing, Percy just lifts an eyebrow.
She softens. “Thanks for the out.” She bites her lip then, hovering somewhere between shyness and wanting. “Wanna get out of here? My apartment is just a few blocks away.”
Percy’s car is blocked in, a detail Annabeth shrugs off despite the rain. They set out on foot, walking in silence as their breath billows around them and their fingers brush with every other step. The water returns Annabeth’s hair to a wet, messy version of the princess curls Percy remembers. Her arms breakout into goosebumps with the cool breeze and rain.
Percy shrugs his jacket off and drapes it over Annabeth’s shoulders before she can protest. He’ll fare just fine in his long sleeve and jeans, but her dress offers no protection from the elements.
“Percy, I can’t—”
“You’re cold. Take it.”
His resolve must show, because Annabeth tugs the jacket around her, popping the collar to protect her neck. Only the soft pitter patter of rain fills the silence, a backdrop to Percy and Annabeth’s comfortable silence. Percy is torn between enjoying the quiet intimacy and wanting to risk it for a shot at kissing her one more time. It feels like a microcosm of high school all over again.
“Remember senior prom?” Annabeth asks. It’s the last thing he expected her to say.
Once Percy recovers, he nods. “That was the last time I saw you. Silena’s house at midnight, you in that dress…” He lets the words hang in the air. It’s not a statement he needs to quantify. “You threw blue jelly beans in my mouth all night. I never told you they were my favorite.”
There’s a smile on his face, one Annabeth doesn’t quite reciprocate.
“You say that like you don’t see the same girl in front of you,” she says into his jacket. It’s unlike her to avoid his eye. Her tone is almost sad.
“I don’t know,” Percy admits. “But I don’t think it’s a bad thing. High school Annabeth was great, but confidence looks good on you. No one is exactly who they were in high school. They shouldn’t be.”
Annabeth beckons him across the street. “I mean, high school fucking sucked. I was invisible, and I wanted to be, but” —She stops and looks Percy in the eye— “No one knew me then, and no one knows me now. Luke was the closest thing I had, and he doesn’t…” She spins on her heel and treks forward through the rain.
“Uh…” Percy jogs after her. “As your only friend during high school, I take offense to that.”
“You don’t count.”
“I what?”
“You see people how they could be instead of how they are. It’s incurably kind, but not realistic.”
“Bullshit.”
“Percy…”
“We saw each other, Annabeth. I think we were the only people who did for four years. And, yeah, some time has passed since then. We’ve changed. But the important parts are still there.”
She stops walking and crosses her arms, a sign for him to continue.
“You’re still a know-it-all,” he starts, somewhat delighting in the way her brow raises. “You refuse to let people know you because they can’t hurt you that way. You are still wickedly smart. And stubborn. And proud . You still do that thing with your eyebrow when you’re waiting to prove me wrong in an argument—don’t look at me like that, you’re doing it right now—and you still care, all the time, even when you don’t want to. Especially then.”
“Percy, I don’t…”
“Yes, you do.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You were going to say you don’t know me like that.”
“How do you…? Ugh!” Her eyes light with a little fire, and it’s so Annabeth that Percy can’t help but smile. “You’re headstrong, sarcastic, and you deflect all the feelings you make your friends face. You’re so stubbornly kind and loyal! It’s almost infuriating! You just decide people are worthy of love, and you give it to them, and you just. Love. So hard. And you’re brutally honest because of it, even though you’re never trying to be brutal. It’s terrifying.”
“Why did you leave, Annabeth?” It’s a question that has plagued him since the moment she turned tail and ran down Silena’s driveway, one that’s all too easy to ask with the suburban backdrop behind her. “Well?”
“Because it was too good!” She throws her hands up—in defense, in surrender, Percy isn’t sure. “Being someone you loved was too good, so I ran. Are you happy?”
“Is it still?”
“Is it still what?”
“Good.”
He thinks her eyes dart to his lips. “It was.”
He forces himself to be patient, to do everything in his power not to trigger her fight or flight. “Past tense?”
“You tell me.”
“You know the answer.”
“I think... “ Her eyes definitely dart to his lips. “I think it could be.”
Percy stops holding back from her. He laces their fingers, mindful of any hesitation on Annabeth’s part. Instead she squeezes his hand, somehow communicating everything she can’t seem to say. Even after all this time without her, Percy understands.
They were right about each other—they always have been, in one way or another. Percy, who gives the love he doesn’t think he deserves. Annabeth, who never learned how to accept it. By god, he wants to love her until accepting it is second nature. They deserve the time to try.
He tells her with the way he kisses her; the sheer intention doesn’t read any other way. It is a slow undoing: methodical, attentive, loving. There is no destination, only the journey of the winding road. The landscape of every moment they were supposed to have and every moment they are still hoping to layer on top of each other like the sea compressing into the horizon. An East Coast sunrise dawns where Percy’s hands meet Annabeth’s cheeks, each swipe of his thumb a gentle ray of light.
They come to a slow ending—first parting at the lips, then foreheads, chests. But their hands stay linked, soothing the panicked part of Percy’s brain that wonders if Annabeth will bolt. Instead she is steadfast, smiling.
Percy thinks they needed this time apart, if only to learn the road back.