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It hadn't occured to Annabeth, by the time she was standing in front of the elevator doors with her jacket falling off one shoulder, lipstick smeared, and one broken high heel in her hand, that she would have to share the ride down with someone else. So, when the doors opened and she was met with blond curls, blue eyes, and a face sculpted like a Greek statue's, the only thing she could do was pretend she didn't look a mess.
The man in the elevator had the sense not to gawk, but she did catch his eyes darting toward her as she stepped inside and slunk to the corner opposite him, wishing she could sink beneath the elevator floor and never be seen again.
As far as hastily planned hookups went, this had easily been her worst. For starters, it had begun the night before, with innocent drinks at a bar, and been followed by a series of drunken mistakes Annabeth hadn't made since her first year at college, when she'd been rebelling against the image of a good little girl that had been imposed on her for so much of her life. But she was well into her twenties now, nearing the dreaded thirty, and past that particular phase. Or so she'd thought.
Getting drunk with the hookup she had found on one of the dating apps her coworkers had practically strong-armed her into downloading and spending the night at his place was a shocking turn of events even she couldn't have foreseen.
And all because she had needed to distract herself from the Other Thing, the thing that made her want to bang her head into a wall and scream until her lungs gave out.
The sex certainly hadn't been good enough to make up for the nausea and headache she was dealing with now, nor did she remember enough of it to even be certain they'd gotten to the main bit before falling asleep. She had left her 'date' snoring in his bed, crept out of the apartment before he had the chance to wake up, and blocked him on the app as soon as she was out the door.
Truly, it had been among the lowest moments of her adulthood. And now she was in an enclosed space with a stranger bearing witness to her rock bottom, when all she wanted was to be back in her own bed, sleeping off the hangover, alone.
The man in the elevator cleared his throat. "You, uh, you okay?" he asked. The question was expected—Annabeth knew she looked ridiculous, and also smelled like the leather seat of a dive bar and the cheap liquor they sold—but his concerned tone grated on her all the same.
"I'm perfectly okay," Annabeth replied curtly, maintaining her posture as well as she could, even as her back ached and her stomach rolled in a way that made her want to curl up on herself.
"Right," the man said, shifting on his feet. "It's just… You're only wearing one shoe. And you have something, um, stuck to your jacket."
Annabeth frowned. She lifted the part of her jacket the stranger was gesturing at, and heat rushed to her cheeks.
A condom wrapper. Somehow stuck to the slider of her open zipper. Because why the fuck not?
The universe must have been absolutely beside itself laughing at her continued suffering. Well, fuck the universe. Annabeth wasn't going to give it the satisfaction of seeing her break down out of the sheer embarrassment of the situation. She plucked the wrapper off her jacket and shoved it into her pocket as if it were nothing but a piece of lint. At least it was unopened—evidence that they hopefully hadn't gotten to the main bit last night. A lousy consolation, but at least there was one mistake she might not have made.
"Rough night?" the man queried.
"You could say that."
He nodded in sympathy. "I've been there. Once you get rid of the hangover, it stops feeling like the world is ending—trust me."
"Thanks for the tip," Annabeth replied shortly. "I'll keep it in mind."
The stranger squinted his eyes at her, nodded, and went back to being silent. Good, Annabeth thought, even as her rudeness gnawed at the sober part of her brain. But her head felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, she hadn't done her night-time hair routine on account of being drunk and passing out, and the underwire of her bra was digging into her skin—in other words, she was fucking uncomfortable, and not in the mood to chit-chat with a random man right after escaping the apartment of another.
Unfortunately, the universe seemed to not care about her wants or needs. Or perhaps it was simply trying to see how far it needed to push Annabeth before her mental fortitude crumbled like a dry cookie, because as soon as she and the stranger had fallen into an uncomfortable—albeit welcome—silence, the elevator lurched, and then stopped.
"What the fuck," Annabeth stated eloquently. Her braids whipped in front of her face as she stumbled, and she was quick to grab the handrail beside her, barely keeping her balance with the one high heel she was wearing. The man had less luck—he yelped and took a nosedive straight to the floor, and Annabeth winced at the hard thump that followed.
"Shit," he said with a groan. "That was so not the move."
Annabeth couldn't hold back the snort that flew from her mouth. The stranger lifted his head—miraculously void of visible bruising—and rose back up. "Glad my misfortune amuses you," he said, though with less bite than Annabeth had expected. "At least you're not glaring at me anymore."
Annabeth knit her brows. "I wasn't glaring at you."
"You're glaring right now."
Annabeth tried to relax her facial muscles, but seeing the budding smile on the man's face made it impossible. "Only because you're being an ass," she retaliated, crossing her arms.
The smile withered on his face. "I didn't mean to be, if that's any consolation," he said with renewed tension. "Just trying to break the ice."
"I'd rather it stayed unbroken," Annabeth muttered under her breath before she could think better of it. The man gave her a look, and she cleared her throat. "Can you move so I can get to the emergency button?"
"It's fine, I'll do it," he insisted. He turned, pushed the red button, and after a few seconds of nothing but a low buzzing sound, someone finally responded.
"Hello, front desk," a man's voice announced from the intercom. "What's the issue?"
"Hi, this is Percy Jackson, from apartment twenty-two. The elevator just stopped between the third and second floor."
A few frantic clicking sounds came through the intercom. "Have you tried pushing the 'door open' button or the ones for the closest floors?"
The man—Percy—tried pushing them all, but nothing happened. "Yeah, no dice," he said. "Seems like we're stuck."
"Is there someone else in the elevator with you?"
Percy glanced at Annabeth.
"Yeah, uh, just me," Annabeth said, leaning toward the intercom. "I'm not a resident, though. Just visiting."
Some more clicking sounds. "Alright. Don't panic, and don't try and force the doors open or get out on your own. I'll get you guys help as soon as possible. Think you two can hang tight until then?"
"I think so," Percy said.
"Okay, good. I'll be in contact via the intercom if anything changes, okay?"
"Great, thanks."
The line went dead.
Annabeth leaned back against the wall. So, help wasn't going to be imminent, but at least it was coming. And she wasn't alone, though in her case, it may have been more a curse than a blessing. Judging by the way Percy was fidgeting with the sleeves of his blue hoodie, he was either afraid of enclosed spaces, or their earlier frosty exchange was going to make their time together even more awkward than it already would have been.
They both checked their phones, only to find they had no cell reception. Wonderful, Annabeth thought. Even her phone couldn't function as moral support.
"Well," Percy started, "I'm afraid we have no other choice but to get used to each other's company, because I'm pretty sure this thing isn't going anywhere for a while."
Annabeth sighed. Her headache was ever-present, and her clothes felt itchy on her dry skin. She was in desperate need of a shower and a nap, and the universe was actively denying her the pleasure of both. But none of that was Percy's fault. Admittedly, he had been nothing but courteous to her thus far. While Annabeth had her excuses, her current state was entirely her own doing. And, as much as it pained her to admit, she had been kind of an ass, too.
"You're right," Annabeth said. "Sorry for... you know. Snapping at you before. I've just had a really lousy night, my head's killing me, and I'm pretty sure my heel broke off because I fell off the sidewalk somewhere, though I can't remember where or how or why, because apparently I drank an entire bar's worth of alcohol. And now I'm stuck in an elevator with a stranger, looking like I came straight from raiding a recycling-bin."
Percy let out a low whistle, raising his brows. "That'll do it," he said, and some of the tension in his muscles seemed to bleed out, his posture becoming more relaxed. He gifted Annabeth a smile for the clunky peace-offering, and she couldn't help noting how radiant it made him look. "You look fine, by the way. For someone who had a condom hanging off her jacket, anyway."
Annabeth groaned, closing her eyes as if to shut the memory out. "Please never mention that again. I don't want to be reminded of how stupid I almost was."
Percy chuckled. "We've all been there. It's no big deal. And you really don't look as bad as you think you do," he said, and the way his gaze fell on her, heavy and seizing, made Annabeth's breath hitch. It didn't help that when she allowed herself to indulge in his appearance fully, Percy wasn't exactly unattractive himself—he was the kind of guy Annabeth wouldn't want to have a drunken one-night stand with, only because she would want to remember every single second she spent with him.
"Thanks," Annabeth replied, suddenly unsure of what to do with her hands, crossing and uncrossing them in an obvious display of nervousness. The good kind of nervousness, though, which surprised her. "You're lying, but thanks," she added.
Percy's eyes seemed to sparkle. "You don't have to believe me—it doesn't change the truth."
Annabeth didn't know what to say to that, so she said nothing. Instead, she took her other heel off her foot and lowered herself down, sitting crosslegged on the floor. No way was she going to stand the whole time with one leg four inches shorter than the other while they waited for their rescue. Percy followed her lead and sat down, leaning his back against the opposite wall.
"So," he said, "you know my name now. Can I get yours, or will I have to keep calling you 'pretty lady' in my head?"
"You were not calling me that," Annabeth scoffed and rolled her eyes, but a tiny butterfly flapped its wings in her belly nonetheless. "It's Annabeth," she provided after a beat. "And the only pretty thing about me right now is the lack of vomit on my shirt." She omitted mentioning that she had vomited on a shirt earlier in the morning, but it hadn't been hers. She hoped her date hadn't been overly attached to the shirt she must've put on at some point in the night, and left folded up alongside a five-dollar bill for the dry-cleaning on his nightstand.
"You're right," Percy said, and Annabeth felt the flutter in her stomach die, only for it to be resurrected when he added, "I was actually thinking of you as 'the pretty lady with a killer glare'."
Annabeth huffed in mock offense. "I wasn't glaring at you! I have a headache!"
"Well, I know that now," Percy shot back. "But when you stepped inside, I thought you were either coming back from murdering someone, or were deciding whether or not to murder me."
"I'm glad I make such a good first impression," Annabeth deadpanned.
"Worked on me," Percy said with a smile that stretched across his whole face, and Annabeth's ears felt suddenly very, very warm. "So," he then said, while shifting into a more comfortable position, "what made you want to have a one-night stand, anyway?"
Annabeth nearly choked on her spit. "How'd you know I had a one-night stand?"
Percy arched a brow. "It's seven in the morning on a Saturday, you don't live in this building, you have a hangover, and you had a condom stuck on you. I'm not a detective, but you have to admit—the clues were kinda there."
"Impressive," Annabeth said drily. "But however spectacular that deduction was, the question is still a bit personal, don't you think?"
Percy shrugged. "Sure, but… We're stuck in here for who knows how long. Might as well take the opportunity to get some stuff off your chest to a stranger. A stranger who can't leave midway what I'm assuming is going to be quite the rant, no less."
Annabeth gave him a skeptical look. "You want me to just dump all of my troubles onto you?"
"Why not?"
"What would you get out of that?"
Percy chuckled. "Well, let's see—I'd get to continue talking to a pretty girl, for one. I'd get to learn more about her, and maybe, by the end of it, she would feel a tiny bit better than she did before."
The elevator was entirely too small, Annabeth decided right then and there. She wouldn't feel nearly as hot if it weren't for that, surely. She had the inexplicaple urge to fan herself like a Victorian aristrocrat, but as that was impossible, she settled for shuffling in place and breaking eye contact with Percy. She could see him smirking from the corner of her eye. Asshole, she thought with an odd sense of affection.
"You really want to hear about it? My awful, failed hookup?" she asked, still not sure she believed him.
"Tell me as much as you want to," Percy said. "I only asked in case it would help you feel better to talk about it. If you don't want to, you don't have to."
"No, I… I think I do want to. My friends would just give me shit for it, and I don't even want to know what my coworkers would say if I told them. You're kinda the least risky person to talk to about it. No offense."
"Hey, I'll take it," he laughed. "And you won't get any judgement from me, I promise."
Annabeth picked at a loose thread on her jeans, wondering just how far back she should start her tale. "I guess… It started yesterday morning. Not the hookup, that came later, but the thing that set me off—the thing that made me want to throw myself into something stupid just to forget." She glanced at Percy, who nodded at her encouragingly. Then she took a deep breath before continuing. "A bit of necessary backstory for you: I ran away from home when I was seven."
Percy's eyes went round. "Seven?"
"I know, it sounds crazy," Annabeth agreed. "And it is. But my dad had just remarried, and his new wife didn't like me. Like, at all. To a point where I felt like vermin in my own home. I couldn't take it anymore, so I packed a small bag, took some cash from my dad's secret stash, and left. No note or anything. I wasn't gone long—only a week. There was a search for me and everything. My stepmom was a jerk, and my dad too much of a pushover, but they weren't completely evil. So, I spent that week on the streets, and then was hauled back home by a friend of my dad's who saw me camping in an alleyway. My dad was way nicer to me after that. I guess I'd really spooked him, and he felt guilty for how I'd been treated under his roof. Our relationship was fraught, but not worse than what it was before. And my stepmom—Helen—did the decent thing and pretended not to totally despise me so I wouldn't do something stupid and worry my dad again."
"Wow," Percy exhaled, as if he was the one out of breath from speaking and not Annabeth. He seemed genuinely invested, which took her by surprise—she didn't think he would actually care to listen to her.
"So," Annabeth continued, emboldened by Percy's attentiveness, "it's probably not surprising that after I moved out, and especially after I moved to New York, I haven't been in much contact with them. Dad sends texts sometimes like, 'How are you doing?' or 'Merry Christmas', but it's just to check that I'm still alive, I think." Annabeth pursed her lips, willing herself not to get emotional—crying about her sad past to a virtual stranger in a broken elevator would be a different kind of low for her. "Which brings us to yesterday morning: I got a text from Helen—who I haven't talked to since I left, by the way—that said she wanted to hash things out. Apparently, she's done a lot of self-reflecting, found spirituality or something in the last year. She thinks she needs to cleanse her soul, which means mending all the bridges she's burned. She said she'd already booked a ticket to New York and that she wants to stay with me for a few days to work on our relationship."
"Damn."
Annabeth snorted. "Exactly. So, naturally, that made me feel like the earth had opened up underneath me, and I needed something to make me feel like I wasn't free-falling into hell. Hence, setting up a date with the goal of sex with a stranger via one of those stupid apps; hence, getting black-out drunk with said date; hence, going back to his place and spending the night. Not that I think we did much besides grope each other before passing out—he was just as wasted as I was. Ergo, a failed hookup, and one of the more humiliating moments of my life."
Percy hummed. He looked off to the side as if in deep thought, but it was hard to tell from his expression exactly what he was thinking. At the very least, he didn't seem put off by anything she had said so far.
"Do you have a plan, then?" he asked. "For when your stepmom gets here?"
Annabeth let out a hollow laugh. "No. And I usually have plenty. But when it comes Helen, I can never think clearly. I don't know if I should humor her and let her stay with me until she's satisfied with how things are between us and leaves, or if I should ignore her and not even let her into my apartment. Right now, I'm debating taking a sabbatical and booking a holiday to Bermuda for a few weeks."
"Well," Percy started, "while I do like the idea of you at the beach sipping margaritas and looking gorgeous, I don't think that's the move."
Annabeth lifted a challenging eyebrow, ignoring the flirty comment—for now. "You don't? What would you do, then? If you were me."
Percy looked away, biting his lip and looking like he was trying to decide whether or not to divulge something. Finally, he seemed to have come to a decision. "I kinda have been you," he admitted. "In a way."
"Oh?"
"My first stepdad—Gabe—was a piece of shit," Percy explained. "Left me and my mom with nothing but bruises and trauma. My biological dad was a no-show, most of the time. He abandoned my mom when she got pregnant with me, then showed up out of the blue one day when I was twelve, and decided he wanted to build a relationship with me. I was too young to really understand what kind of person he actually was—I just a saw him as the dad that had been missing from my life, the guy that would finally replace Gabe. I idolized him for a while, even if he did only see me a few times a year, and never actually helped mom with parenting me. And then my mom met Paul, the only person who's ever acted like a real father to me, and I started seeing how shitty both Gabe and my biological dad were."
"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Annabeth said softly.
Percy waved it off. "I'm well past it. Me, mom, and Paul are in a really good place right now. And Estelle—my little sister. She turned twelve just a few days ago."
"That's nice. I'm happy for you," Annabeth said, and she meant it.
"Thanks. But all that was to say that I get it. The whole step-parent thing, and how bullshit it is when someone wants to force themselves back into your life with no warning. It sucks. And if you don't think letting her stay with you and hearing her out is a good idea, that's totally okay. But running away doesn't solve the problem, either."
"So what do you suggest?"
"Tell her off," Percy said, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. "Text her back, call her, meet up outside your place—whatever works best for you. If all you need is to tell her to fuck off and never try to see you again, do that. Give yourself actual closure. If you really never want to see her again, you have to make that clear to her. She's not owed your forgiveness, especially when she's only seeking it to make herself feel better."
Annabeth thought about it. Really thought about it. All her life, she had kept her mouth shut about the things that hurt her. Helen's words, her dad's neglect, the little affection she had received that was born from guilt rather than love—she had never voiced out loud what all of it had done to her, what it was still doing to her. Her past was a hand holding her back from every relationship, a fist that crushed every potential new connection underneath it. And all she had ever done to fight back was run away—from home, from Virginia, from every conflict she could've had. It was all she could do as a child. But she wasn't a child anymore. She had power now, the kind she'd never had when she was still living there, in the house that pretended to be a home.
Maybe… Maybe she just needed to stop running. Maybe all she needed was to speak her mind for once, and Helen and her dad would stop feeling like ghosts trailing after her everywhere she went.
"That's… Yeah. I could do that." Annabeth locked eyes with Percy, and something inside her loosened, the bit of remaining wall between them crumbling into bits. "Thanks, Percy."
"No problem, Annabeth," he replied with that brilliant smile of his, and the way her name rolled off his tongue made an entire kaleidoscope of butterflies erupt inside of her.
"You know," Annabeth said, gathering all of her courage as she went on, "if I had to get stuck in the elevator with someone, I'm glad it was with you."
For the first time, Annabeth had the pleasure of seeing Percy blush. With the way her words seemed to have shocked him, she was fairly certain he would've fallen on his face again had he not been sat on the floor already.
"Oh, uh, thanks," Percy said, pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie. He painted a rather adorable picture like that, Annabeth thought with a suppressed grin. "You too. I mean, me too– no, wait, I meant–"
Annabeth couldn't conceal her grin anymore. "You're cute when you're flustered, you know that?"
Percy's blush deepened, but some of his earlier mirth returned to his eyes. He gave her an affronted look and said, "Excuse me, I think the word you're looking for is handsome. Charming, even. I think someone called me dashing once–"
"You are so full of shit!" Annabeth laughed.
"Am not!"
"You are! I can't believe I–"
A low buzzing noise cut her off.
"Hey, you guys still okay in there?" the man from the front desk asked through the intercom.
Percy got up quickly, dusting his pants and clearing his throat. "Uh, yeah, we're still good. Any news?"
"You're getting out in a few seconds," he said. "The elevator's going to start going down again, so don't panic when it does—it might stagger a bit at first, but there's nothing to worry about. Then you're gonna get out at the first floor. That sound okay?"
"Sounds good to me," Percy said.
"Great. You'll be out in no time, Mr. Jackson and Miss…"
"Chase," Annabeth finished for him.
"Miss Chase. Got it. Have a good day now, both of you. Apologies for the inconvenience."
"No worries, all good," Percy said, and then the line went silent again.
"So," Annabeth said, collecting her shoes as the elevator gave a familiar lurch and started to move again. "This was…"
"Fun?" Percy offered.
Annabeth smiled. "Sure. Fun."
"Better than your one-night stand?"
That forced an air surprise out of Annabeth. "Oh, definitely. Ten out of ten, would recommend you to a friend."
Percy grinned devilishly just as the elevator pinged, signaling it's arrival at the first floor. The doors opened, and though Annabeth had been nothing short of enjoying her time with Percy, she was glad not to be trapped anymore. They stepped just outside the elevator doors and stood facing each other, neither quite sure where to go from here.
"As flattered as I am that you'd recommend my company to a friend, I'd rather you didn't," Percy said, his eyes firmly fixed on the floor, his cheeks dusted with pink and hands shoved into his pockets. "'Cause… I'd rather spend time with you. If you wanted to. Feel free to kick me in the nuts if I'm overstepping."
Annabeth restrained herself from pumping the air like a dork. "I think I would like that. Spending time with you—not the kicking you in the nuts part. Though that could still happen, depending on how you behave yourself next time."
Percy gave a toothy grin. "Next time, huh?"
Annabeth rolled her eyes, though she couldn't help mirroring his expression. "Don't get ahead of yourself. You'll have to call me first. Then, I might consider letting you ask me out."
"Oh, I will. Miss Chase," he added, and Annabeth bit back a groan. Oh, she thought, Percy was going to be dangerous for her health.
"Give me your number and I'll text you mine," Annabeth said, pulling out her phone—that finally had a signal—and electing to ignore Percy's self-satisfied smirk at her reaction. Percy obliged without protest, and Annabeth typed a quick text to him: hi, this is the pretty lady with the killer glare.
Percy opened the text immediately and laughed. "I knew you liked that," he said. "I'll call you later tonight, okay? And I'll go and tell the guy at the front desk we got out safe, so you can slip out before your one-night stand comes down and finds you here. Do you need me to call you an Uber?"
Annabeth shook her head. "No, it's fine, I'll call one myself. And thanks—that's very thoughtful of you."
They stood together in the lobby for a beat longer than necessary, neither quite ready to leave the other. Finally, Annabeth decided she needed to exit the building lest she be seen by anyone else.
"It was really nice meeting you, Percy," she told him, hoping the words carried enough emotion to convey everything she had left unsaid. It was much too early for tearful confessions, even as her heart was telling her, this is it. He is it.
Judging by the way he looked at her—as if she was an oasis and he was stranded in a desert—he had read between the lines, and his thoughts ran in the same track.
"You too, Annabeth. And hey," he said, dropping his earlier flirtateous tone, "don't stress about your stepmom too much—it'll work out. I know it."
Annabeth smiled. "Thanks. I'm starting to think so, too."
When Annabeth walked out the building doors, she turned back to see Percy still there, waving at her with a giant grin on his face. He's kind of a dork, too, Annabeth realized. It made her smile widen.
She called an uber for herself and waited at the curb for it to arrive, for once not caring that her feet were bare, her makeup smudged, and her clothes wrinkled. She didn't care for much at all anymore, except for the man with steel-blue eyes and a smile she could stare at forever.
She startled when her phone vibrated in her pocket, alerting her to a message. A knot of anxiety formed in her throat at the thought of it being Helen, telling her she had already arrived, but Percy's words found themselves back in to her mind, calming her down: it'll work out.
Fishing her phone out of her pocket, she found that her fear had been unnecessary: Percy's name stared back at her on the screen. She opened it with lightning speed, and promptly burst out laughing.
Percy (from elevator)
I was going to be all cool and not text you before I called you later, but I thought you mind want to see this. He was shouting your name quite enthusiastically—if you decide that he's your prince Charming after all, I won't argue. Just know that he did sound pretty angry.
Attached was a grainy image of the guy Annabeth had left sleeping blissfully on his bed earlier that morning, looking comically enraged in the lobby of the apartment building, wearing nothing but a bathrobe, and holding up a shirt covered in her vomit. It was taken in selfie-mode, and half of Percy's face was visible in the down-right corner, his hand making a peace-sign over the poor guy's crotch, which seemed uncovered.
Maybe Annabeth had been wrong—maybe the universe didn't want to see her break down. Maybe it just had an unconventional way of giving her exactly what she needed.
She sent back a quick reply and stepped off the curb once her uber arrived. She got in and rattled off her address with half her mind elsewhere, thinking it was about time she considered falling in love.
Annabeth (pretty girl with a killer glare):
Change of plans: come to my place tonight, 7:00 p.m. sharp, and I'll show you what I do on dates I actually want to be on.
[Address attached]
Don't be late.