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“Just tell me what you want me to do,” Percy whispers, and Annabeth’s heart breaks all over again. His tie is loosening under his fingers. His hair is just as wild as it is after Capture the Flag. As he leans against the metal prep counter in the vineyard’s empty kitchen, she’s struck by his eyes betraying his every emotion for the millionth time. The dim half light only makes it more painful.
Just tell him, her brain says. You’re gonna lose him. Forever this time.
“There’s nothing you can do, Percy,” she says. She wonders if she’ll ever forgive herself for this, after he’s gone. She can feel their deadline inching ever closer like a hand closing slowly around her throat. “It’s too late.”
Her mascara starts to itch with the tears that are building. She thinks of the knowing smile Silena had given her when Annabeth told her where she was going.
“I came back, Annabeth,” he says. “On purpose and as soon as I could.”
“It’s not just that.”
“Fine, then it’s Rachel.” His voice pitches up. Annabeth’s mouth sets itself into a bitter scowl. “We’re friends, Annabeth. It’s not—”
“Stop,” she interrupts, waving her hands. “I don’t want to hear this again. That’s not even—”
“Then what?” Percy begs. He pushes off the counter. His hands on her upper arms are gentle and warm. She can feel the callouses from Anaklusmos. “Please, just tell me.” They’ve had this conversation a hundred times before, over Iris Message and late-night phone calls. It’s at exactly this point every time that he gets desperate. For an answer she can’t give. For something he can do to fix the unfixable. His hands slide to her wrists.
“It’s nothing you’ve done yet,” she whispers. “Just drop it.”
“The prophecy?” he asks, his voice as broken as she’s ever heard it.
Annabeth just nods.
“I’m gonna go,” she says.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” She swallows back the sob that wants loose. “You should go back to the party. Your mom is gonna be worried.”
Percy looks at the floor while Annabeth tightens his tie for him. Her hands rest on his chest, and for a second, the constant urge to kiss him again burns its way from the back to the forefront of her mind. Instead, she wipes the tear off his cheek and walks away. She can still feel where he touched her skin. She wraps her arms around herself and shivers as she walks out into the mid-November chill.