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"Shit, shit, fuck," Annabeth chanted to herself. Looking at her watch had been a mistake—she was already half an hour late to work, and her supervisor would be biting her nails right about now, wondering where the hell she was.
Any other day, Annabeth might've gotten away with it, especially with her track record of always being on time (if not much too early), but not today. Because today was The day. The day of her presentation. The day she was meant to prove herself, not only to her supervisor and her team, but to the CEO herself. And then maybe, possibly, if they liked her work enough, they would consider her designs for an actual, honest-to-god project. A building she designed could be the newest addition to the New York City skyline. She'd spent countless days and nights preparing for this day, double and triple and quadruple-checking her notes and references and sketches to make sure absolutely nothing was out of place. She was ready.
And she wasn't there.
She had worked toward this moment for so long, and hadn't dared to hope for anything. Still, the idea of the opportunity slipping right through her fingers was devastating enough to have tears forming in her eyes.
"Fuck!" she screamed, hitting the steering wheel. "Drive faster, asshole!"
Maybe moving to New York had made Annabeth a bit grouchier, but with the way her day had started, could anyone blame her? Not only had she woken up late because her damn alarm clock had decided this was the perfect time to stop working, but the morning traffic had also come straight from the nine circles of Hell. She wasn't too far from her workplace now, but it was like every car ahead of her was driving on a road made of molasses, their wheels turning in slow-motion.
It was her own fault, really. Who even drove in New York? She'd thought it would make her seem more put-together, more independent. Like an actual grown-up who knew how to navigate the world, despite the fact she still struggled trying to fit into broader society. A tumultuous childhood and a complicated relationship with her teen years hadn't exactly been the perfect launching-pad for her becoming a well-adjusted adult, but she was trying. Hence, the car.
Now, she was regretting ever getting her license. She was considering homicide by the time she pulled into the block of buildings her company was located at.
Finally, she thought when the cars in front of her started moving faster. She could already see the familiar facade of the building with its floor to ceiling windows, the revolving doors at the front, and the sign above that read 'Atreidae Architecture Group' in giant, golden letters.
The name was an homage to the descendants of Atreus, the king of Mycenae. Originally, it had been founded by Dare Enterprises, but the daughter of the former land developer inherited it after his passing, and overhauled the whole business, including its name—now, they were strictly an environmental design company, with a mission to improve New York's landscape toward a greener future. Annabeth had been beside herself when she'd landed an interview with them, and even more so when she'd been offered a position in their architecture department. The CEO herself—Rachel Dare—had welcomed her aboard.
Now, Annabeth would be lucky to keep that job.
She was just about to switch lanes when it happened. She saw a flash of blue jump in front of her car out of nowhere, and then there came a distinct thud as her bumper collided with it. Annabeth slammed on the brakes, her brown locks whipping in front of her face and obstructing her vision. At least three cars honked their horns behind her at the sudden stop.
Oh god, oh god, oh god, Annabeth repeated in her mind, a lump the size of a tennis ball forming in her throat. She switched off the car and got out, slower than she meant to—her legs felt like pool noodles. She rounded to the car's front, barely breathing. Please don't be dead, please don't be dead…
"Ouch," the man laying on the ground in front of her car said, and Annabeth exhaled.
He let out a deep groan before pulling himself into a half-sitting position, one hand holding his side. "Damn," he croaked. "I think my ribs are bruised."
"Are you okay?" Annabeth asked, walking closer to him. Other than the—allegedly—bruised ribs, he seemed fine. Pale, but that may have just been his usual complexion. He was wearing a blue hoodie, and Annabeth hoped its ragged condition wasn't the result of the hit. She also noted he had a head of blond curls and a jawline that could cut glass. Not that that was in any way important.
He lifted his head and opened his mouth, looking like he wanted to say something along the lines of 'what do you think, lady?' in that proper, New York drawl, but the second his steel-blue eyes met her amber ones, he clamped his mouth shut.
Annabeth frowned. "Did you hit your head? Should I call an ambulance?"
The man shook his head. "No, uh, no need for an ambulance," he said once he regained his ability to speak. "That would cost a fortune, and I don't think my ribs are even bruised, actually—it's probably nothing more than a scratch," he added, trying to laugh it off, but that only made him wince, the hand on his side flexing.
Yeah, Annabeth thought. Definitely not just a scratch.
God, of all the days, it just had to be this one. Mentally, Annabeth kissed her career goodbye, then crouched down next to the guy who was still struggling to move. "If you don't want an ambulance, I'll drive you to the ER. I'll give you my number so you can call me after you get discharged, and then we can talk damages."
"You really don't have to do that," he said with a nervous tinge to his voice. "You were obviously on your way somewhere, and I don't think there's that much damage here, so…" he trailed off at Annabeth's pointed glare. "I mean, thank you," he amended quickly, scratching the back of his head with his non-occupied hand.
"Do you have your phone on you?" Annabeth asked.
"Oh, yeah. Hold on." He patted his pants for his phone, then checked that it was still working, which it fortunately was—paying for physical damages and a broken phone would've really been the cherry on top of Annabeth's already abysmal morning.
"Okay, give me your number and I'll text you. Actually, we'd better get off the road first," Annabeth said, only now noticing the passersby gawking at them, and the cars behind hers were still honking their horns. "Can you stand?"
"I think so." He tried getting up, but it was obvious he was in pain. Annabeth leaned down and put his arm over her shoulder, which made his head swivel around so quickly it was a wonder it stayed attached to his neck. "What are you doing?"
"Helping you up. Now, come on—we don't have all day."
"I don't think this is gonna work," he muttered under his breath, though he didn't take his arm away from her. "You're like, half my size."
Annabeth grunted, heaving both of them up. "I am not that short. Now keep moving or I'm leaving you in the middle of the road."
"Yes ma'am."
When she finally got him inside the car, Annabeth thanked the universe he at least wasn't bleeding. She got in the driver's seat and put on her seatbelt before helping her new passenger with his when it became clear he wasn't going to be able to do it on his own. Once they were both secure, he rattled off his number, and Annabeth texted him hers, waiting until they both heard the soft ping from his phone.
"Thanks," he said, his voice quiet. It was like the rest of the world had quieted, too, and Annabeth was suddenly very aware of the very close distance between herself and a stranger.
"I'm Annabeth, by the way," she said, attempting to break the ice as she put the car into gear. "In case you wanted to save my number as something other than 'the lady who ran me over'."
"I was actually gonna put it in as 'the really pretty girl who almost killed me'."
Annabeth's eyes widened, and she felt heat crawling up her cheeks. Even her ears felt suddenly hot.
The guy's face twisted into an expression of immediate regret. "Oh god, forget I said that," he groaned, though this time, Annabeth was pretty sure it wasn't due to any physical pain he may have been feeling. "That was so uncool. Can you just pretend I said 'hi Annabeth, I'm Percy' instead?"
Annabeth's hands contracted on the steering wheel, and she bit back an involuntary smile. Her cheeks were still warm. "Hi, Percy," she said, and Percy sighed in apparent relief. "I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I don't want to sound like I enjoyed running you over."
Percy grinned. "If you knew me, you probably would've. Trust me, my friends threaten to run me over on a regular basis."
Annabeth lifted her brow. "Come on, you can't be that bad."
Percy pointed at himself. "ADHD, dyslexia, and I attract trouble like you wouldn't believe. Case in point," he said, gesturing at his ribs. "Hanging out with me is like hanging out with an overly caffeinated toddler who can't stop sticking forks into electrical sockets."
This time, Annabeth couldn't hold back her smile. "Well, then they'd probably feel the same way about me, too—ADHD and dyslexia are only half of my daily problems. Although, you should know not to go sticking forks into electrical sockets by now. That's just irresponsible."
Percy's face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Wow," he said with a toothy grin. Annabeth noted his perfectly straight and white teeth. Stop it, she told herself, focusing instead on Percy's voice and not the place it came from. "That's a hell of a coincidence."
Annabeth shrugged. "Today's just full of those, it seems. How are your ribs holding up, by the way?"
Percy seemed to think his answer over, and Annabeth guessed it was to figure out how honest he should be. "They've seen better days," he finally settled on. "But you really didn't need to drive me all the way to the ER—I could've taken a taxi."
"Don't be ridiculous. You could barely get off the ground by yourself. And what were you doing anyway, throwing yourself in front of a moving car like that?"
Percy blushed, fidgeting in his seat. "I was, uh, chasing a cat."
Annabeth knit her brows. "You were… chasing a cat?"
Percy nodded, looking resigned. "Yup. There's this stray I've been feeding every time I'm around there and today, I guess it got spooked by loud noises or something, so it ran away. Right into traffic."
"And you just… ran after it?"
"Pretty much."
Annabeth let out a whistle. "Wow. Now I get the whole sticking-forks-into-electrical-sockets thing. You really have no self preservation, do you?"
"I panicked, okay? I didn't want a cat to die."
Annabeth grimaced. "I wasn't trying to scold you," she assured him. Percy gave her a look. "Okay, maybe I was, a little bit," she admitted, which thankfully made Percy regain his earlier grin. "But I didn't mean to make you feel bad. It was very nice of you to try and save that cat."
"Yeah, well, she didn't get run over but I don't know where she went. Hopefully, she ran off to Atreidae—she's always trying to get in through the revolving doors."
Annabeth stilled. "Wait, do you mean Atreidae Architecture Group?"
"Yeah, why?"
"That's where I work," Annabeth said. "I was actually on my way there when, you know. You happened."
Percy's eyes grew round. "No way! So, you must know Rachel, then?"
Annabeth mirrored Percy's expression. "You know Rachel? I mean, Ms. Dare?"
Percy let out a laugh before remembering his ribs, though he didn't let the pain wash away his smile. "I do. She's, like, one of my best friends. We've known each other since high school. I was actually on my way to go see her, which is why I was in the area. A surprise visit, so she won't care that I didn't show."
"Holy shit," Annabeth said. "Small world."
"No kidding." Percy adjusted his position on the seat, having leaned toward Annabeth in his excitement, but then he paused, as if he'd realized something. "Wait, you were on your way to work?" He groaned again—Annabeth really needed him to stop doing that in her presence. "I really should've just taken that taxi, shouldn't I?"
Annabeth shook her head. "It's fine. Well, it's not," she conceded. "Today was supposed be kind of a big deal for me, and not showing up is probably going get me in trouble at best and fired at worst. But I can find work elsewhere—New York's brimming with environmentally conscious architecture firms with fair hours and great pay, right?" she said sarcastically.
"You're not getting fired for taking someone to the ER," Percy told her. "Not by Rachel, anyway. Trust me. Did you at least text them to let them know what happened?"
"I was already late by the time I hit you, so I texted my supervisor when I woke up to let her know I wouldn't be there on time."
"And now? After hitting me?"
Annabeth bit her lip. "I'm kinda avoiding that."
Percy frowned. "Why?"
"Because I don't want to know if the response I'll get is 'too bad, you're fired'."
Percy rolled his eyes, which made Annabeth want to scold him again. "I told you, you're not getting fired."
"You don't know that!" she snapped, too anxious to control her tone. "I get that she's your friend, but that's different from being someone's superior. CEOs of big companies like this don't always care about little fish like me. There's a dozen better architects ready to replace me at the drop of a hat—I wouldn't exactly be missed."
Percy scoffed. "Now, I know that's not true," he said. "I've never seen a single building you've designed, but I'd put my head on the line to bet that there's no one better than you."
Annabeth wasn't sure if she should feel appreciative of his words or annoyed that he spoke like he knew her. "Flattery will get you nowhere, you know that?"
"It's not flattery, it's observation," Percy waved her comment off. "There's no way someone like you wouldn't be good at their job."
Annabeth gave him a puzzled look. "Someone like me?"
"Someone so confident," Percy clarified. "And driven. No pun intended. You've got this, like, aura."
"Aura? What are you, a hippie from the sixties?"
Percy snorted. "No. I just mean that you've got a certain vibe, I guess. Like, if I were in an emergency situation, I'd instantly gravitate toward you to figure things out."
"I think you forgot that I'm the one who put you in an emergency situation," Annabeth said, nodding at Percy's hand still glued to his side.
"Hey, I'm the one to blame for that. I'm the idiot that ran in front of your car. And this only proves my point! Without you, I'd still be laying on that ground and probably having my spine melded into the road. They'd have to get some, like, concrete pulverizer to get me out of it. A pulverizer, Annabeth."
Annabeth couldn't help it—she let out a giggle. And then another, and then Percy joined her, and soon the two of them were a veritable mess of laughter and pained wheezing from Percy's side.
When the laughter finally stopped, Annabeth was wiping tears from her eyes. She was tired and frustrated and scared of losing her job, but she was also having more fun than she'd had since moving to New York—all thanks to the guy she'd hit with her car.
"Thank you, Percy," she said after a beat of silence. "I don't know if I fully believe you, but thank you."
Percy smiled at her. "Least I could do."
The remainder of their drive went by in a flash, and if Percy hadn't been in active pain, Annabeth would've wished it had taken longer. She parked her car as close to the sliding doors of the ER as she could, and helped Percy out of the car and hobble inside. Once he was checked in and seated in the waiting room, she took a reluctant look at her phone. She'd felt the constant vibration throughout the drive, but had elected to ignore it. Now, she could see the stack of text messages and phone calls from her supervisor and coworkers.
"I'm guessing you need to leave and let your boss know where you've been?" Percy said, his voice laden with an emotion Annabeth was too terrified to name.
This didn't happen often. Not her running someone over, though that was a first for her, too. But this. Percy. Guys in general. She hadn't dated since college, and even then, it was never serious. Her life had been too abnormal for that—running away from home, building and losing the family she had made, dealing with the challenges of developing in a world that liked putting girls like her in a box she'd never really fit inside. Love and romance—those were reserved for people with less baggage.
But, Annabeth thought as she looked at Percy, maybe he had baggage, too. Chasing feral cats in thread-bare clothes, visiting his CEO friend, spending half a car ride with a total stranger trying to talk her out of a panic attack—those weren't the actions of people who fit neatly into boxes.
So, maybe… Maybe, for once in her life, Annabeth could take a chance on something that wasn't in the plan.
"I do," she said. "Need to get going, I mean. But… You have my number."
"Oh, you don't have to pay any damages, I promise. I'm the one to blame for–"
"Percy?" Annabeth interrupted him.
"Yes?"
"I meant, maybe you could call me sometime. Not about paying damages."
Percy's mouth popped open. "Oh," he said. "Oh. Yeah, of course, I'd love to. And, uh, just to be absolutely sure, you mean…"
Annabeth couldn't help her lips pulling into a smile, and even if she could have, she wouldn't have felt the need to hide the joy on her face. "I mean–," she said, leaning closer to Percy, who was watching her as if enraptured, "–that I would very much like it if you called me later and asked me out."
"Yeah," Percy breathed, his gaze locked on her. "I would really, really like to do that."
"Good." Annabeth smiled and straightened her back, retreating from Percy who almost followed her before he remembered where he was. "I'll be waiting."
Then she left, and didn't look back—she felt Percy's eyes on her until she was out of his sight, and the giddiness inside her felt like butterflies.
Maybe she wouldn't lose her job. Maybe she would still get to keep her presentation, and see her designs built. Maybe Percy would call her tonight, and they would go on a date, and she would fall in love with him, and they would live happily ever after.
Maybe none of that happened.
But, for the first time in a long while, Annabeth was willing to hope.