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It’s the first time in his five years of acting that Percy feels way out of his league, standing there at what is considered the industry’s most anticipated event of the year, rubbing elbows with people he’s sure could buy his entire family’s (yes, including Paul’s) assets. Really he was only there because of his movie last year that saw some buzz with a few festival awards, securing an invitation for his more famous co-star, Jason Grace. They were planning to give the movie a theatrical release some time this year, so the marketing team managed to get Percy invited, too.
Now he’s standing in the corner trying to decide whether the avant garde dinner was the reason for his funny stomach or was it because he’s been sipping at his glass of champagne he can’t pronounce the name of for the last twenty minutes (in truth, he is more than a little uncomfortable with the excessive display of wealth, and the thought that the suit he’s wearing that he is supposed to return at the end of the night can pay his mom’s two months worth of rent is not sitting well with him). Jason, being part of a particularly well-known Hollywood family, was nowhere to be found, probably holding conversations with the likes of Margot Robbie or fuck, maybe even Beyonce.
Finally after a few more grueling minutes he appears in Percy’s line of vision, walking towards him with Chiron, their director, in tow. He’s barely done sighing with relief when Jason speaks.
“Let’s skip to the after party early before all of these people decide it’s time to go,” he tells them, glancing around the illuminated room with his lips pursed. “That traffic is one I do not plan on engaging. Perce?”
Dumbly, all he can reply is, “There’s an after party?”
Jason openly laughs at his response, Chiron shaking his head in amusement. “Don’t worry. We’ll choose one of the lowkey ones. You’ve had too much culture shock for the night.”
The three of them begin walking towards one of the exits, smiling and nodding at all the people (strangers) they pass that greet them as if they’ve known each other since diapers. It’s when they’re about eight feet from the doors that a flash of gold catches Percy’s eye.
Is that Annabeth Chase?
Apparently he spoke out loud, because Jason answered him immediately. “Yeah. She’s one of the co-chairs, I think. Have you seen her Grammys speech a few months ago? That was such a…”
The rest of the words fall on deaf ears, because at the moment all Percy could focus on is the gold short dress Annabeth Chase is wearing, shimmering against her tanned skin, her curly blonde hair wild and loose and…bleached? In a way her hair reminds him of Penny Lane from Almost Famous, except this was Annabeth Chase and she’s probably the most famous woman in the entire world.
“Percy?” He snaps to attention at the sound of Chiron’s voice, looking back to see the older man smiling at him with a knowing glint in his eye.
He shakes his head. “Yeah, let’s go.”
-
The after party is at a dive bar, of all places, only a couple of streets away from his mom’s apartment on the East Side. Some big-shot record label CEO rented out the whole place, and when their driver pulls up in front of the lowkey building, it’s already half-filled with people Percy only ever saw in magazines and clickbait articles online. Chiron opted out in favor of getting to sleep early for once.
“That’s Dakota Johnson,” Jason hisses under his champagne breath, nudging Percy. They both look out the window just in time to see Dakota Johnson in the flesh greeting a woman in a bright red suit ensemble by the bar’s entrance. “Never met her before.”
Percy huffs. “I’ve never met any of these people before.”
“Eh,” Jason half shrugs, moving to open his side of the car door. “Maybe it’s the perks of living in West Hollywood. I get to meet tons of famous people.”
Percy nods, “Sure.” And not at all about your reality TV star mom , he thinks, but doesn’t say out loud.
Fine. So he was in a bit of a foul mood and he’s (internally) taking it out on Jason, his perfectly nice and generous and generally cool co-star. It’s just–
Percy doesn’t do well in uncomfortably lavish environments. Growing up, his family barely had enough money to eat three times a day. Most of their savings, Sally used to send Percy to boarding school to get away from his asshole stepfather, and most of his stepfather’s savings he used to drink and gamble the days away. It’s only when Percy began to get casted in more roles that lead to an increase in talent fee, that they could finally save enough to get a good divorce lawyer and send his mom back to school for a few writing courses.
They were in a better place now. His mom remarried a good guy and Percy has a little sister and his career seems to be steady–not taking off by any means, but he’s never really been one to sell out anyway. He likes to pick the roles he auditions for carefully, even at the time when he really needed money to pay for an overpriced studio apartment in Brooklyn and plane tickets to LA where most auditions and chemistry reads take place. (Except, of course, for that one time when he was 19 and he almost got rushed to the ER for eating only a sum of two instant ramen packets for an entire week and his rent was due and he had to swallow his pride and accept a recurring role for a supernatural low-budget CW show that made him wear prosthetics and red-colored contact lenses but he doesn’t like speaking of that time, alright? Thank the gods the show was canceled after one season) He’s never in it for the money or the fame, no matter how much the money can help him out.
Percy likes acting, genuinely. It’s a high that he can’t really get from anywhere else, even swimming. When he’s on stage or in front of a camera, he’s a different person. And that kind of escape–one where he can shed all of Percy’s problems off and be Marcus, Steve, Logan, Dylan or Peter or just somebody else, complete personas with completely different stories and life problems–it’s addicting.
“Who do you think will be the most famous person to attend here?” Percy asks Jason once they get inside, his back to the bar and a fruity blue-colored cocktail in his hand, just to make conversation. During the filming of their movie, they didn’t really get to interact much, and Percy knows it’s kind of his fault. Jason is fun, but on set he can be kind of aloof, too focused on getting on character and sometimes even method acting. It’s a stark contrast to Percy’s ‘whatever happens happens’ attitude.
Percy figured it would be pointless to try and connect. So in between takes Jason gets back in his trailer to run lines or method act or whatever, and Percy stays outside where the crew is, chatting them up, absorbing the experience like a sponge. It pays off, being charming and chatty with the crew. They’re the ones who take care of you, the ones who make sure you’re not making a fool of yourself. Plus, he always gets extra snacks after sharing his mom’s lasagna recipe to the catering team.
Jason sips at his rum and coke timidly. “Hard to say. Dakota Johnson is here. Can’t be Beyonce, though. Heard she’s throwing her own after party a few blocks from here.”
“Why aren’t we at Beyonce's freaking party then?” Percy jokes, making Jason laugh and shrug at him. “So you seem to be a Dakota Johnson fan.”
Jason winces. “I mean, she’s gorgeous, but…”
Percy raises a dark eyebrow, waiting for him to finish.
Jason sighs, throwing back his drink. “She dated my ex girlfriend, so.”
Percy tries not to choke on his cocktail. He really did. “Oh, wow. Well, that’s–”
Before he can stammer out more unintelligible words, he’s cut off by a commotion near the bar’s entrance. Almost half of the attendees flock to the door, some cheering, some just waiting to see what everyone else is on about. Jason seems unbothered, and although Percy’s interest was piqued, he does nothing but strain his head a bit to try and get a glimpse of who just arrived.
Suddenly the DJ blasts a very overplayed pop song, one he’s sure Estelle knows all the words to, and like something out of movies the sea of people part and Annabeth Chase is in his view, changed to a similar dress from earlier but this time in silver, cheeks flushed in embarrassment and lips pulled in a similarly timid smile. Two other women flock her sides, but Percy has tunnel vision. It takes him a moment to realize that the song playing loudly in the speakers is hers, and probably the reason why she looks so shy.
“Piper?” Jason says out loud from beside him all of a sudden, and as if speaking into a mic, his voice carries out all the way across the room, where one of the women beside Annabeth Chase snaps her gaze towards the two of them.
Her eyes–Percy tries to note the color from the distance to no avail–widens, one hand coming up to grip Annabeth Chase’s forearm. “Jason?”
“Piper!” Another voice exclaims. Percy follows the sound with his eyes, and there’s Dakota freaking Johnson making her way to the woman apparently named Piper, pulling her into a hug, pressing their cheeks together. She then moves on to hug Annabeth Chase, and Percy watches them chat for a few seconds before turning back to Jason.
He clears his throat to ease the awkward tension. “So that’s your ex-girlfriend?”
“With her ex girlfriend,” Jason confirms, shoulders slumping in defeat. Percy winces but pats his shoulder in sympathy.
The next few minutes happened a little bit like this:
Piper, still with her hand holding onto Annabeth Chase’s forearm, makes a clear cut towards them, unconsciously dragging the popstar behind her. Percy watches this all unfold with semi-widened eyes, trying to gauge whether he should make an escape and leave Jason to it or stick it out as a show of bromanship or whatever. Ultimately, the two women arrive in front of them before he gets a chance to choose.
“Jason,” Piper says again, a little breathless. Annabeth Chase appears confused as well, sneaking glances between the two exes, but put together nonetheless. Percy imagines he looks the same sans the put together part.
Jason sighs. “Piper.”
The two of them stare at each other for what seems like five whole minutes, before Percy (un)subtly clears his throat yet again.
Jason jumps at the sound. “Oh, yeah, uh, this is my friend, Percy. He’s also an actor.”
“Hi,” Piper tells him simply before tugging Annabeth Chase forward. “This is Annabeth. I’m her manager.”
Percy’s trying to decide between acting like he doesn’t know her and saying outright that his baby sister is a huge fan when Annabeth Chase thrusts her hand towards him for a shake. He’s afraid his hand is trembling and clammy and just overall disgusting, but Percy shakes Annabeth Chase’s hands anyway and tries not to marvel at the feel of her calloused fingers, probably from playing the guitar and other instruments she uses to make her hit, grammy-winning songs.
“Hey,” he tries to say cooly, making Annabeth Chase smile in return.
“Should we…?” Jason asks Piper, pointing his thumb over his shoulder.
“Yeah, yes, sure.” Piper nods immediately, ignoring Annabeth Chase’s pointed stare. “We’ll be back in a sec, you guys. It was nice to meet you, Percy.”
In a flash they were both gone.
Percy heaves a deep breath, turning to the bartender and gesturing for a refill. He didn’t even notice that he had already finished his cocktail. He doesn’t particularly like drinking, but he likes the blue color of the drink enough. Besides, with Jason going MIA on him again, he figures it might be for the best to let loose a little.
“So,” Percy tries not to jump at the sound of Annabeth Chase’s voice from behind him, tries not to react too physically when he sees her settling in the bar stool next to where he stood. For some reason he thought she had left after Piper and Jason went away, maybe go and mingle with the rest of the pop stars and Hollywood big-shots in their vicinity. He certainly didn’t expect her to stay with him. “Have I seen you in anything? I can’t tell.”
Percy opens his mouth but can only muster a “what?”
“You’re an actor, right?” Annabeth looks at him weirdly, and probably she’s staring at the red splotches that are no doubt spreading across his cheeks from embarrassment.
He sits up straight. “Oh, yeah. I mean…probably not. I haven’t really been in anything mainstream or popular yet, so you probably haven’t seen anything I’m in.”
Up close in person, Annabeth Chase is even more gorgeous than all of her photoshoots combined. In fact, none of the photos or music videos he’d seen of her do her justice. Her eyes are a vibrant gray that are slightly (more than slightly) intimidating, her nose perfectly sloped and pointed, her skin smooth and free of any blemishes, her lips parted and showing a little bit of her bunny teeth that somehow only makes her look more endearing. Percy never really paid much attention to Annabeth Chase before beyond her mainstream pop breakup songs that get blasted on the radio that Estelle always screech-sings in the mornings and gets played in malls and H&M stores.
Sometimes the occasional tabloid article or tweets surface on his twitter timeline, but never enough for him to form an opinion about her beyond being the most famous female artist in the world and being a solid songwriter. He thinks he read some unpleasant articles and tweets about her recently and heard a few things about her going on a hiatus, but he can’t remember exactly if those are just fake news made for clickbait or if they’re anything true. On top of all the filming he’s been doing the past year as well as just trying to get booked for more roles in general, Percy doesn’t really have the time to engage in celebrity gossip.
“Well, that’s a shame,” Annabeth Chase tells him, lifting her hand up to get the bartender’s attention. “Guess I’ll just have to look you up sometime. Percy, is it?”
He huffs out a laugh, trying to release some of the tension in his body. “Yeah, Percy Jackson. And please, whatever you do, do not watch anything in my filmography before the year 2014. Please.”
Annabeth Chase laughs at this, and something about the way her laughter sounds like she’s singing him the most complex song tugs something at his stomach. “Well, now I’m curious. What do you have against the years before 2014?”
“Well, I was dirt poor, for one,” he points out, lifting his glass. “You’d be surprised to know what broke people would do for some cash. In my case it was a shitty CW show about werewolves that made me swear off contact lenses forever.”
Annabeth Chase smiles at him for a few seconds before the bartender interrupts them. She orders something Percy would never have ordered for himself (whiskey on the rocks) but something in the back of his mind tells him to take note of the drink anyway. “So you’re fairly new to the industry, huh?”
“I was in this art house short film in 2014 by this French director,” Percy starts, pausing to take a sip of his drink. Annabeth Chase does the same. “When my agent managed to get me the script, the role was described as ‘broke American exchange student trying to sell pot in Paris.’ I figured I got the broke and American part down so might as well. It got relatively easier after that, trying to get scripts for auditions, booking roles. Anyway, I like to say I debuted in 2014. That film’s the first job I did that I was ever proud of, you know? Even though it had a run time of, like, less than twenty minutes and I got seven minutes of screentime.”
Annabeth Chase looks at him differently, right then, enough to make Percy squirm and adjust in his seat. After a few seconds of scrutiny, she cracks a small smile. “I have to see this film, then. What’s the title again?”
“Uh, it’s ‘L’art de le faire,’” Percy stumbles over the words, the foreign language feeling unusual in his tongue.
But Annabeth Chase nods as if she understands perfectly, as if she had already seen the film and is agreeing with him about how life-changing it had been for him. “The Art of Making It. That’s fitting.”
“You know French?” He questions, eyebrows lifting up. Somewhere along the casual conversation Annabeth Chase had scooted closer, close enough that their elbows are now touching.
She inhales, slowly, as if taking her time picking apart her next words. “Maybe. Or maybe now that I had time to think about it, maybe I have seen the film. Maybe it’s the reason I’m sitting here talking to a stranger. Either way, you’ll never know.”
“Annabeth Chase,” her name rolls off his tongue too easily, and there’s something like warning bells ringing in his ear when she narrows her eyes at him just so that he has to catch his breath. He wants to tell her, you’re definitely not what I was expecting when you walked in the room. He wants to say, how long is it going to take for you to come to your senses and be the typical snobbish pop star that pop stars usually are? Or maybe even, you’re too pretty for what is considerably a mid night. Instead, what comes out is, “You’re something else.”
Annabeth Chase grins at him over the rim of her whiskey glass, the lights reflecting against her face and sparkling her eyes, and yep–those are definitely warning bells. “Please. Call me Annabeth.”
Jason and Piper don’t return, but Percy couldn’t really be bothered to care, not when he and Annabeth are still sitting at the bar with their heads ducked close together, him on his fifth glass and her on her third. For the first time that night, he feels comfortable. He was never a lightweight no matter how infrequent he drank, but he could feel the alcohol kicking in, so for his sixth glass he asked for a virgin.
“You cutting off already?” Annabeth asks with a raised brow, stirring her drink in her hand. Percy tries to remember every twinkling note that the ice hitting the glass makes, but he’s never been a musician.
He shrugs, trying to act nonchalant. “Something tells me I want to remember this.”
Annabeth grins at him, and it’s enough to make his heart race in his chest. He’s a little proud of that line.
A new song comes on, one he isn’t that familiar with. The beat is catchy, emanating indie pop that he often hears in coming of age movies, and at the sound of the first few introductory notes Annabeth lets out a gasp, one hand landing on his forearm to try and balance herself while she stands up from her seat.
“What?” Percy asks. In truth he is a little afraid she’s running out on him, but in a way he expected it to happen. Guys like him don’t just get to flirt and talk to people like Annabeth in their lifetime.
Instead of booking it, though, Annabeth smiles at him blindly, almost jumping up and down. “I love this song!”
“Really?” Percy lets out a laugh, a mixture of relief and awe, throwing his head back. “I couldn’t tell.”
She pouts at him, her free hand already searching for his. It’s the most natural thing in the world when their fingers meet and intertwine. “Don’t tease! Dance with me!”
“Annabeth,” he begins to say. Speaking her name out loud sans her last name still feels weird, like he’s dreaming or he’s having an out-of-body experience. In his head she is still ‘Annabeth Chase,’ the out of reach pop star that never should have crossed his way. “I hate to break it to you, but I can’t dance for shit.”
Despite his words, Percy lets himself get dragged to his feet and onto the dance floor. “Don’t worry, Percy Jackson. I can’t either. That’s the fun part.”
Once they’re in the middle, Annabeth finally lets go of her hold on him, and Percy realizes with a pang that already, he’s missing the feel of her hands gripping his shirt sleeves. Without thinking about it, and probably also because of liquid courage, he reaches down to tie their hands together.
Annabeth grins at him, bigger than she ever had before, and raises their arms up in the air. They sway uncoordinatedly to the resounding beat of the music, and when Percy tries to spin her around, she laughs so unabashedly it’s like Percy’s listening to her magnum opus in the middle of the dance floor, mesmerized by her movements, captivated by her strong magnetic field.
This– Percy thinks, pressing closer to her, letting their chests graze each other, letting his heartbeat get accustomed to her own enough that they beat in sync–
This is where it starts.