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Annabeth had not meant to think about it.
That was the problem with memories like that, they didn’t ask for permission. They didn’t knock politely or wait for a convenient moment. Mount St. Helens had been chaos, fire, ash. The kind of destruction that made everything feel temporary and urgent. The ground shaking, the air burning, the world narrowing down…and the in the middle of it, she had kissed Percy.
It was a spur of the moment decision, and that bothered her a lot. Annabeth Chase did not tend to do things without a reason. She was a planner, that was her thing. Even her impulsive decisions usually had some kind of internal logic behind them, something she could trace back and justify later. That kiss didn’t.
She had grabbed him, pulled him into her, and kissed him like it mattered more than the fact that the mountain was about to explode. It was like it mattered more than anything, which was…unsettling.
She sat at the edge of the beach now, knees drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around them as the ocean stretched out in front of her: wide, steady and annoyingly symbolic when Percy was involved.
It had been more than a month already since that moment. A month of nothing: no acknowledgement, no conversation. If anything, Percy had gotten worse. More oblivious, more frustratingly normal, like nothing had shifted between them at all. Which left her with exactly two possibilities.
One: he hadn’t understood what the kiss meant. Unlikely. Percy could be dense, but he wasn’t that dense.
Two: he had understood, and it hadn’t meant the same thing to him. This option sat heavier, because Annabeth knew what it had meant to her.
She exhaled slowly, dragging her fingers through the sand. It hadn’t been about the volcano, or the adrenaline, or the fear, or the end-of-the-world urgency of the moment. It had been about him. About the way he always showed up, how he made impossible situations feel survivable, how somewhere along the line he had become too important to her.
And she hated that. Not because it wasn’t true, but because it made her vulnerable in a way she didn’t know how to manage anymore given her experience with attachment and abandonment. She pressed her lips together, staring out at the horizon. Maybe she’d miscalculated, it wouldn’t be the first time. Just one the most inconvenient ones.
Behind her, the camp buzzed with its usual energy: voices, movement, the constant hum of demigods pretending they weren’t all waiting around for war. There was another party tonight, because apparently, once you start ignoring the rules, it becomes a habit. This one was supposed to be quieter, more hidden. Down at the beach instead of at the public bonfire, a more reduced group. And away from Chiron’s immediate line of sight.
Annabeth considered skipping it, staying in her cabin, avoiding people (namely Percy). It was a great plan, which was probably why it didn’t last.
“Absolutely not.”
Annabeth didn’t need to turn around. “I didn’t say anything.”
“You didn’t have to,” Silena replied, dropping onto the sand beside her like she’d been invited. “I can tell when you’re spiralling.”
“I don’t spiral.”
“You absolutely do spiral,” Silena said cheerfully. “You just do it quietly, which is arguably more disturbing.”
Annabeth huffed. “I’m just thinking.”
“Or overthinking.”
“Semantics.”
Silena bumped her shoulder lightly. “You’re coming tonight.”
“I might not.”
“You are.”
“I might not,” Annabeth repeated, more firmly this time.
Silena tilted her head, studying her. “Is this about Percy?”
“No”
“That’s a yes.”
Annabeth exhaled sharply. “I just don’t feel like dealing with everything.”
Silena’s expression softened slightly. “Then don’t.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“It is tonight,” Silena said. “Tonight, you dance, you ignore him if he’s being an idiot, and you remember that the world does not revolve around one boy who can’t communicate properly.”
Annabeth glanced at her. “Are you projecting?”
“Maybe,” Silena admitted. “But I’m also right.”
That was inconveniently true. Silena stood, brushing sand off her dress. “Come on,” she said, holding out a hand. “I have something for you.”
Annabeth eyed her. “That sounds like a trap.”
“It’s fashion,” Silena corrected. “Could be considered more dangerous, though.”
Annabeth hesitated. Then, she shook her head and took Silena’s hand.
The dress was not something Annabeth would’ve chosen on her own. It was red, and not even a subtle red.
“No,” Annabeth said immediately.
“Yes,” Silena said, already pushing her toward a chair.
“I can’t wear that.”
“You can and you will.”
“It looks…uncomfortable.”
“It’s actually very stretchy,” Silena rolled her eyes. “Sit.”
Annabeth sat. Because arguing was pointless, and because a part of her was honestly curious. Silena worked quickly, efficient and focused in a way that reminded Annabeth of herself. Brushes, pins, and movements that felt deliberate even when they looked effortless.
“What are you doing?” Annabeth asked, as Silena’s hands moved through her hair.
“Fixing it.”
“It’s not broken.”
“It needs attention.”
Annabeth sighed but didn’t move, letting Silena do whatever it was she was doing. When she finally stepped back, there was a pause. “Well?” Annabeth asked.
Silena smiled. “Look.”
Annabeth stood, turning toward the mirror, and stopped. Her hair wasn’t its usual curly fall. It was straighter, with a slight soft wave that framed her face in a way that felt unfamiliar enough to be almost jarring.
The dress fit, because Silena didn’t do things halfway and of course she would’ve made sure. Annabeth tilted her head slightly, studying her reflection like it was a puzzle she wasn’t sure how to solve.
“You hate it,” Silena said.
“I don’t,” Annabeth said slowly. “I just…”
“You’re not used to looking like that, but you look perfect.”
The beach party was more of a gathering, if the reference for “party” was the bonfire on her birthday. It was quieter, uneven lights casted across the shoreline. The wind was refreshing, and the waves kept moving in a steady rhythm.
Annabeth hesitated at the edge, then stepped forward barefoot onto the beach. The sand was cool beneath her feet, shifting with each step, grounding in a way that made it easier to breathe. She was here because Silena had dragged her out of her own head, and honestly, staying in had felt worse.
For once, she wanted to feel something that wasn’t tangled up in strategy or fear or the slow, creeping realization that she might have misread something important. Music swelled slightly as she moved closer to the centre. Someone grabber her hand—Silena, of course—and pulled her into the shifting circle of movement.
“Relax,” Silena said, spinning once. “No thinking.”
Annabeth huffed a quiet laugh, then she let herself move. Bare feet in the sand, the ocean stretching out beside her, the music threading through the air in a way that didn’t demand perfection. For a few moments, she let go. Forgot all about the kiss and Percy.
However, as soon as she started feeling truly alive, she noticed Percy across the beach, standing near the edge of the crowd. His expression shifted slightly when he saw her, something like surprise flickering across his face before it settled into something harder to read. He was probably just thinking about how weird she looked today after having left Silena play dress-up with her.
But tonight she had promised not to overthink, so she just went back to what she was doing before she noticed his arrival. Because if Percy Jackson was going to stand there and look at her like he was trying to figure something out too late, that wasn’t her problem.
Annabeth felt him before she even saw him again. The air had shifted, tightened. The music still played, the others still laughed, the ocean still moved in its endless rhythm, but somewhere in the middle of it all, something sharper had settled in. Percy stepped closer.
“Your hair’s…different,” he said.
“Very insightful observation, Seaweed Brain.”
“I try.”
“Do you?” she asked lightly, though there was an edge underneath it now.
His mouth twitched, like he wasn’t sure if she was joking, but she didn’t clarify.
A beat passed. The distance between them felt intentional, like neither of them wanted to be the first to close it.
“You look…” he started, then stopped.
Annabeth raised an eyebrow. “Careful.”
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “You look different.”
“That’s not what you were going to say.” She tilted her head. “What were you going to say?”
He hesitated. And that, more than anything, snapped something in Annabeth. “Forget it,” she said, sharper now, turning slightly away.
“Annabeth.”
“It’s fine.”
Silence stretched between them, thin and dangerous. The music seemed louder now, or maybe everything else had just faded. Percy stepped closer and this time, she didn’t move away.
“Did I do something?” he asked. “Or…forgot something?”
Annabeth laughed. “I wish you would forget something. Like her number.”
It landed heavier than she intended (or maybe exactly as heavy as she intended).
Percy blinked. “What?”
“Rachel,” Annabeth clarified, her voice deceptively calm. “You memorized her number. I heard you tell her. I’m saying you should forget it.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” He frowned.
“Of course it doesn’t.”
“Annabeth…”
“You’re planning on using it a lot, huh?” she continued, the words coming faster now. “I mean, you never know when you might need to call her. Could be an emergency situation, could be a…casual visit.”
“I just—she didn’t have paper, and—“
“So you just left it on your arm to stare at it all day long, instead of writing it down yourself later,” Annabeth cut in. “Makes a lot of sense for something that doesn’t mean anything.”
He stared at her, frustration rising to meet hers. “Why does this even matter so much?”
She open her mouth, only to close it again. Because she wasn’t about to tell him exactly how much it mattered to her when he was acting like this.
“It doesn’t,” she said instead.
For a second, neither of them spoke. Then Annabeth shook her head, stepping back. “This is pointless,” she muttered.
“Annabeth.”
“You know what?” she said suddenly, something reckless flashing through her chest. “I don’t even care anymore. I don’t care about any of this,” she continued, gesturing vaguely between them. “I don’t care about whatever you think you’re doing or not doing or avoiding. And I definitely don’t care about the stupid prophecy or the war or L—“ She stopped, breath catching slightly. “I’m not even scared anymore.”
Percy stared at her. “You don’t mean any of that, you’re just exhausted.”
For a second, something in her chest wavered, then she looked away. Because he sounded too sure, he still saw her too clearly in the ways that mattered, and not at all in the ways she wanted.
“I’m sorry,” she said abruptly. “I miss Thalia.”
The shift in conversation caught him off guard. “What?”
“Thalia,” Annabeth repeated, her voice softer now. “She would’ve understood everything. Or at least told me I was being stupid in a way that made sense.”
Percy’s expression softened slightly. “You’re not being stupid.”
“That’s debatable.”
“She’d probably side with you,” he admitted.
“Uh, obviously.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across both of their faces, then disappeared just as quickly. Silence settled again. Not as sharp this time, but not exactly comfortable either. Before either of them could say anything else, a loud splash echoed from down the beach, followed by laughter.
“Oh, absolutely not!” Katie Gardner’s voice rang out, somewhere between scandalized and delighted.
“Too late!” Connor shouted.
Annabeth turned. The Stoll brothers were already halfway into the water, completely unbothered by the fact that they had apparently decided clothing was optional now.
“Are they…” Percy started.
“Yes,” Annabeth said flatly. “They are.”
Silena’s laughter carried over the sound of the waves. “Come on!” she called, kicking off her shoes. “It’s a terrible idea, which means we have to do it.”
Katie hesitated for approximately half a second before following. Annabeth stared at them. “This is ridiculous.”
Percy glanced at her. “You’re considering it.”
She hesitated, then sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “But if anyone mentions this…”
They moved toward the water together, the tension from before not gone, but looser around the edges, dulled by the absurdity of what they were about to do. The others were already in, splashing and shouting, the cold water drawing sharp reactions that turned into laughter just as quickly.
Annabeth stopped at the edge, staring at the waves. Then, because tonight had apparently become a series of increasingly questionable decisions, she quickly threw her dress over her head and stepped forward. The water was freezing, it stole her breath for a second. Then, she laughed.
Somewhere nearby, Percy surfaced, shaking water from his hair and grinning like this was the best idea anyone had ever had. Annabeth rolled her eyes.
The water was still cold. Not in the sharp, shocking way it had been at first, more in the way it settled into your bones, a steady reminder that you were very much alive and possibly making questionable choices. Annabeth floated on her back for a moment, staring up at the sky.
Somewhere to her left, Connor shouted something incomprehensible before being promptly shoved underwater by Travis. Katie’s laughter carried over the water, bright and unrestrained. Silena was closer to shore now, half-submerged, her voice softer as she talked about nothing important.
Everything was as normal as it ever got. Annabeth closed her eyes briefly, letting the sound of the waves wash over everything else. Then she heard him.
“Hey.”
She didn’t have to look to know Percy had moved closer. “Hey,” she replied, still staring upward.
He drifted beside her, close enough that she could hear the quiet shift of water with every movement, close enough that if either of them reached out, they would touch, but they didn’t.
“You’re not yelling at me,” he said after a moment.
“Don’t sound so disappointed.”
“I’m just noting the change.”
A faint huff of laughter, and silence settled again, softer this time. Annabeth turned her head slightly, glancing at him. He was looking at the sky too, appearing as relaxed as Percy Jackson ever got. Water slicked his black hair back, his expression unguarded in a way she didn’t see often. It did something strange to her chest.
“This is nice,” he said.
Annabeth blinked. “Yeah,” she admitted.
It was nice, and that was the problem. Because moments like this made everything else harder.
They drifted a little farther from the others without really meaning to, the noise fading just enough to give them space. Percy tilted his head toward her. “You also look less like you’re planning my murder.”
Another small smile, it was easy. Annabeth let herself float upright, settling around her shoulders. “You’re not as annoying when you’re not talking,” she said.
“Good to know,” he replied. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“You won’t.”
“No,” he agreed.
Annabeth’s chest tightened slightly. Because this, this ease between them, it was everything she’d wanted. And it was happening too late. Her mind betrayed her, and jumped ahead to next summer, when Percy would inevitably turn sixteen and become the true subject of the prophecy.
She thought about Percy laughing in the water next to her, Percy standing at the edge of the beach earlier, Percy memorizing Rachel’s number, Percy, Percy, Percy.
She was going to lose him, and not only in some metaphorical, romantic way, but for real. He was going to die. She stared at him, really looking this time, trying to memorize everything she didn’t have enough time to understand about him.
And the worse part, the absolute worse part, was that she hadn’t even gotten it right. She’d taken the leap at Mount St. Helens with the kiss, and nothing had come of it. No confirmation that what she felt wasn’t just hers. So what was she supposed to do? Keep trying until his deadline? Risk it again?
He was going to die, and she was going to have to keep going afterwards. But she would never hear his voice again, or see that lopsided smile, or argue with him over things that didn’t matter.