"Shoot," Annabeth muttered as the grape juice spilled in a long purple slash down her shirt. She sighed and mopped at the mess with a napkin, but it was no use; the damage was done.
"You turning Roman on me?" Percy asked, laughing around a mouthful of pizza. Annabeth simply glared at him.
"Hey, it was a joke," Percy mumbled. He was already pulling at the hem of his own shirt.
"What are you doing?" Annabeth asked.
"I can walk around camp shirtless," he offered. "You can't."
"Only because of misogynistic customs-"
"Ok," Percy interrupted, "You can, but I'd rather you didn't." He passed his shirt over the table to Annabeth.
Annabeth held up Percy's orange camp shirt; the seam under one arm was tearing. "How old is this shirt anyway?"
"I can take it back if it's not up to your standards," Percy joked.
Annabeth might have blushed a bit, though the light sunburn she was sporting from their day at the canoe lake made it difficult to tell. "Thanks," she whispered.
Percy watched in amazement as she slipped his shirt on over hers, wiggled her arms a bit, and triumphantly produced her own wet and stained shirt out of one arm hole. "How do girls always know how to do that?" he asked.
"We practice," she said smiling. "When we're very small we start practicing it, dreaming of the day our boyfriend offers us his shirt."
Percy snickered. "I'm glad to make your dreams com true, then."
This time, there was no question that Annabeth blushed.