As Percy watches the girl next to him sip from her lemonade, all he can think is how goddam hot her tattoo is.
Percy has dated a few girls and has had a strictly no tattoo policy—not because he has anything against them, but because he thinks they're too permanent. Things change, and tattoos can't.
But as she reaches to the small table between them to take another sip of her drink, Percy can't help but watch the way her ribcage twists and the words 'We live with the scars we choose' glint in the sunlight.
It's not particularly big, in fact, Percy is just a few feet away and he has to squint to read the words. They're written in script across her side and he can't help but think that they're perfect for her: delicate and meaningful.
He rolls his eyes at himself. He doesn't even know the girl. How can he know what's perfect for her?
She catches him out of the corner of her eye and Percy's heart nearly stops as she gives him a half smile. Or at least he thinks it's a half smile. Maybe there's just something funny in the book she's been reading.
Or she's taunting him. He swears she is. It's a conspiracy.
She returns her gaze to her book. The architecture one. She's been reading it for approximately the past two hours, and in the time since they've been poolside neighbors, Percy has done no swimming and only ogling. No swimming for two entire hours. Someone give him an award already.
He stays absolutely still—or as still as he can manage—thankful for his sunglasses and hoping he can pass off his staring as sleeping.
But god, Percy thinks she's as close to perfection as someone can get. Call him superficial, or just a typical guy, but her flawless tan skin and icy blonde curls have made his mind turn to mush. Plus, he assumes she's smart if she's reading an architecture book for fun, while listening to music at the same time.
God, she's so talented.
She turns on her side to reach for her drink again, and all Percy can manage to think is that she's lookingatmeohmygod.
He shakes his head and mutters get a grip under his breath. So much for pretending to be asleep. So much for pretending to be normal.
Percy somehow manages the willpower to slide off of his chair and toss his shirt on the poolside table. He isn't thinking clearly. Sitting in the sun for so long is making his brain fuzzy.
He walks over to the edge of the pool deliberately slowly, praying that years of competitive college swimming had some lasting effect on his body. The water is cool and his mind clears for a full minute before someone enters the pool next to him and he just knows that it's her.
"Wow, it's hot out today," she mutters, and Percy would totally add 'But not as hot as you' if he was at all smooth.
He nods in agreement, his mind doing this foggy thing that he has never really felt before. Sure, he was never great with girls—which probably explains his complete singleness for the past year—but he has never felt as utterly clueless as he does now.
"So," she starts again, and this time Percy risks looking at her even though he's not sure she's actually talking to him, "I'd like to know how much time you spent napping and how much time you spent staring at me."
Yep. She's talking to him.
"Me?" Stay calm.
She grins smugly at him. "Yeah you, pervert." But she's smiling and Percy knows—or at least seriously hopes—she's joking.
"I'm not a pervert. I'm here with my mom," he protests, sinking up to his neck in the water and ignoring the way her lips pull together.
He contemplates drowning himself. That was your best argument?
"And that's supposed to reassure me because…?" she trails off.
Percy tries again.
"The only way you'd know I was staring at you is if you were staring at me, too."
He smiles in satisfaction as a blush crawls up her neck.
Her lower lip twitches.
"Fine, I was staring at you, too. Happy?"
She crosses her arms and Percy can't help but think it's painfully cute. His heart clenches and he figures that he always brings the worst kind of pain upon himself.
"I wasn't really staring at you," Percy says, wanting to defend himself. "Mostly your tattoo," he admits, gesturing towards her side.
She lifts her arm to look at her ribcage, as if she didn't know what he was talking about.
"Oh."
"It's nice," he clarifies as she lowers her arm and adjusts her sunglasses.
"Thanks. Do you have any?"
"Uh…" he contemplates lying to sound cool, but realizes he has nothing to show her if she asks. Plus, since when does he lie to get the attention of pretty girls? "Nope," he tells her truthfully, "kind of scared of how permanent they are." Then he adds, "But I have nothing against them," for good measure.
She takes off her sunglasses now, and Percy notices that she has the most striking gray eyes. He's lucky his feet can touch the bottom of the pool because he's pretty sure his body just lost all ability to perform normal functions, breathing included.
"That's why I like them," she says, ducking under the water. Percy is certain she can breathe better under water than he can right now.
When she resurfaces, he manages to say, "Cool," before slapping his hand to his forehead in frustration.
She cocks her head to the side. "Are you okay?"
He shakes his head. "Yeah, of course, I'm just hot—I mean, it's hot out, I didn't actually mean hot like…"
She laughs, and Percy is certain she thinks something is wrong with him, aside from just being a blathering idiot.
"Got it."
He smiles at her, grateful.
"Do you think you can manage to tell me where you're from, or do you need a few seconds first?" she teases.
She's teasing him. They're like best friends, or something.
He tries to open his mouth, but can't, and she takes this as a no.
"I'll go first, then. I'm Annabeth, I'm twenty-three years old, and I'm from California though I'm in New York City for work more often than not. I'm in Puerto Rico on my first vacation in three years, and I'm sad because I'm leaving tomorrow."
Percy's world comes crashing down on him. She's leaving tomorrow. Just bring death upon him now. Drowning himself would have been less painful than this.
"Uh, I'm Percy. I live in New York City, all the time. I'm also twenty-three and I'm a wildlife conservationist. I'm here with my mom because we've come every year since I was a kid; it's sort of a tradition. My favorite color is blue,"— because clearly she wanted to know that—"and we got here yesterday."
"Figures. I haven't seen you around; I would have remembered." Percy doesn't even let himself get excited at the fact that she would have remembered him because she's leaving tomorrow and his sun just stopped shining.
Maybe he's being overdramatic, but Percy hasn't had a girlfriend in a while, and this feels just as horrible as all the other times he broke up with someone he was dating. Possibly even worse. He's not entirely sure.
Before he thinks about how much he's nailing the hole in his coffin he says, "Hey, it's your last night here and I'm sure you don't want to spend it alone in the hotel room. Want to hang out, or something?"
Her cheeks are pink. "How about, or something?"
Percy blinks. She's playing with him, he thinks. His tongue flops. "Ummm… what?"
Annabeth grins, and Percy looks at himself in the reflection of the water and wonders what happened in his life to make him such a spaz around girls.
"You said, 'Want to hang out, or something,' and I was—" she frowns. "It was a bad joke, forget it. And I'm glad you assume I was going to sit in my hotel room alone."
He pushes up his sunglasses and takes a deep breath, because he has absolutely no idea if she's being sarcastic or not and it's making him crazy.
"I'm all for bad jokes, I have plenty if you want to hear them."
Right. Good job, Percy.
"I'd rather not."
"Good. I'd rather not embarrass myself more than I already have."
She laughs again, and Percy decides he'd embarrass himself a hundred times over to hear that sound.
"At least you're not being arrogant, there's nothing worse than that. The embarrassing thing is kind of endearing, if I'm being honest."
Percy thinks she's giving him a compliment, but he's not entirely sure.
He has a buzz from the Shirley Temple he was drinking so he risks the question again.
"So, were you planning on staying in your hotel room alone or…?"
She snorts. "I plead the fifth on that one."
"You what?" Percy is full-on blushing now. Tomatoes have nothing on him. Maybe he's having an allergic reaction to the Shirley Temple.
No you're not, you've had them a million times before.
"You're hopeless," she decides.
"Tell me about it."
She sighs, and wades to the edge of the pool. Percy uses all his willpower to keep his eyes down and not watch her leave.
He is cool as a cucumber.
He is a complete moron.
"Meet you here around seven?" she calls over her shoulder.
Percy's reflection smiles in the pool, and he guesses that his face is copying. He can't really tell, though, because his cheeks are all tingly and warm.
"Perfect, see you later, Annabeth."
By the time Percy swims fifty laps his mind has subdued from AnnabethAnnabethAnnabeth (or maybe he's just said it enough times that it's become a quiet chant in the back of all this thoughts) and his tongue feels a lot less like a dead fish in his mouth.
"Please tell me you can talk normally now," is how she greets him.
"Hi. My name is Percy and I use complete sentences when I speak."
He debates hugging her, but settles for a handshake.
Keeping it casual, Percy. Right on.
"Thank god," she says and her smile is still as bright as it was before.
She takes his hand with an amused expression on her face, and Percy's first goal is getting enough oxygen to his lungs.
Annabeth dressed in super short shorts and a ruffled t-shirt. In Percy's opinion, all the leg she's showing isn't helping him but anything—Percy gulps— is better than a bikini.
"Commence staring."
Percy shakes his head, and manages somehow to meet her eyes.
"I'm not staring," he almost whines.
"Sure you aren't." She bites her bottom lip and Percy wonders if he's in a movie or music video or something dramatic like that.
"So, are we going to do something besides stand around? Because being a loner in my hotel room was better than this so far…" she smirks, nudging Percy in the side.
Percy shakes his head. "Shall we start with drinks?"
"Good idea."
Percy leads the way to the bar, with Annabeth trailing next to him. Every few steps his arm brushes against hers, and even though it's warm outside it makes him want to shiver.
Over the past few months, he's been on a few dates—mostly complete failures with someone his friend set him up with—but he feels rusty, like this is something new. He has the strongest urge to hold her hand, but figures that's too immature. He isn't even completely sure this is a date.
"You're thinking too much. Stop thinking."
She smoothes her hand up his arm in a way that would be reassuring for anyone else, but manages to make Percy even more edgy.
"How do you know?"
"Your eyebrows are puckered up like this—" she pulls her eyebrows together.
And in that moment, Annabeth manages to tear Percy's heart out of his chest and either keep it as her own or trample it; he isn't sure yet.
Here lies any future dating prospects, Percy notes.
But he is sure that he wants to face-flop onto his mattress or buy a bouquet of flowers or serenade Annabeth because he is completely crushing on this girl.
It's like high school all over again.
They sit at the bar and Annabeth orders a margarita with exactly four olives, and no salt. If it's possible, she looks even more beautiful under the soft glow of the bar lights, and Percy sulks when he has to take his eyes off her face to order a beer.
The bartender gives Percy a sympathetic smile, like, I feel you bro.
The alcohol does wonders to Percy, and after a few minutes he's able to hold a steady conversation without swooning all over Annabeth.
"You do not speak four languages!" she cheers over the clatter of people drinking and eating.
"I do! Bet I can say hello in more languages than you can."
"It's on."
"Shalom."
"Bonjour."
"Aloha."
She giggles.
"Hola."
"Sayonara."
"That's goodbye!" she insists and she's smiling wide and he is too.
And soon they're laughing until their stomachs hurt and maybe they're the loudest people in the bar but Percy doesn't care.
"Wait!" she says, holding up a finger and screeching to a halt.
"Yeah?"
She places her purse on a ping-pong table next to them and pulls out breath mints. It takes her a few tries in her half-drunken state to get one out, but she finally manages to put one in her mouth.
"In case I decide to kissh you later," she informs him, meeting his eyes. She slurs her words slightly and Percy isn't sure if it's cute or scary. His lungs temporarily stop working, so he decides on adorably intimidating.
"Okay," he says because he doesn't know how a person can respond to Annabeth being all—Annabeth-y.
"I'm sooo good at ping-pong," she hiccups, stumbling into Percy slightly.
He holds an arm out and she clutches it. Her hand slides down into his and Percy forgets how to breathe again.
"I doubt it," he manages to squeak, stumbling himself, and not because of the alcohol.
"Try me."
She lets go of his hand and bends down behind the ping-pong table, coming up with two rackets and a ball. Percy's hand feels cold and all he can register is that one minute he was holding her hand, and now he's not.
She's complete crap at ping-pong, but he is too so it sort of works.
"I'm sober now," Annabeth announces, before tripping in the sand.
She scowls and Percy sits down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulder because why not?
"Really, I am."
"Says the person who thinks she's good at ping-pong. I can hardly trust your judgment."
She groans and throws her head in between her knees.
"At least you can't blackmail me because, luckily, I'm leaving tomorrow."
He doesn't think she meant it like that, but it stings, and Percy pulls back his arm.
"Crap. I didn't mean that. I just meant, you know—"
"I know," he reassures her, but it still hurts because it's true and there's nothing he can do about it.
"I had lots of fun tonight."
"Me too."
She pauses.
"Put your arm back?" It's half a question and half a statement, and Percy listens because she asked.
They watch the waves and Percy is pretty sure now that someone is filming this, or at least someone should be. It's like one of those stupid romance movies that you insist you hate the whole time but leaves a warm feeling inside of you after it's over.
Annabeth leans against him and her shirt rides up. Percy can just see the edge of her tattoo and he smiles to himself because that's how this all started.
"We live with the scars we choose," he reads. "Care to explain?"
She stiffens, and Percy automatically knows he said something wrong.
"Unless it's too personal or something," he apologizes, happy that it's dark enough to hide his blush. Not like he hasn't been blushing all day, or anything.
"It's a long story that you probably don't care about," she says, and Percy can feel her closing up on him.
"Maybe I do."
The light from the moon reflects on the water to give her face an eerie radiance. When she answers, her voice is low.
"I didn't have the best, you know, home life when I was a kid. Moved out when I was eighteen, and I went through sort of a rebellious phase. Not like drinking or smoking or anything—" she assures him, "but I felt hurt by my parents and more so by myself. I got this tattoo when I left because it reminds me that the most important step in being happy is accepting myself. I think a lot of people bring pain upon themselves and the only way to move forward in our lives is to choose the experiences we want to carry with us."
Her eyes are as silver as the moon and the sparkle from them is gone. Percy is pretty sure he'd capture the stars for her to bring the light back.
"Do you regret it?"
"Not for a second."
"Good. It makes you beautiful. Among many, many other things that do, too."
"God, you're cheesy."
The corners of her mouth pull up and she fiddles with one of the buttons on her shirt, but by the way she shifts her gaze away, Percy feels like he's gotten closer to her in these past few moments than anyone else has in a long time.
He pauses at her hotel door.
"How about that kiss now?"
She obliges and it's the most heartbreakingly beautiful way of saying goodbye that Percy has ever experienced.
Percy's phone buzzes at 3:00am. He rolls over, squinting as his eyes adjust to the bright light. His dyslexia and sleepy eyes makes it nearly impossible to read, but eventually he manages to make out:
PUERTO RICO: SEVERE WEATHER WARNING. ALL FLIGHTS CANCELLED.
Percy shouts so loudly that the people in the room next door call security on him, and he spends the next half hour explaining to the hotel management why he's so happy that there's a rainstorm coming tomorrow.
When he sees her at breakfast this morning, she looks like she got even less sleep than he did.
"Don't talk to me," she grumbles, pouring herself a large cup of black coffee.
"You're staying another day!" he sings, and the corner of her mouth twitches so slightly that he wouldn't have noticed if his eyes weren't locked on her face.
"You would not believe how difficult it is to change your flight to the next day," she continues, sliding her plate in front of the waffle and pancake machine.
"Moment of truth if we can be friends," Percy announces, lowering his gaze to hers in challenge and ignoring the fact that he said friends out of caution. Because he's not entirely sure what last night was. "Waffles or pancakes?"
"Waffles."
Percy's heart soars. "It's official. We're meant to be."
He puts batter in two waffle makers.
"No syrup," she adds, and now Percy's hurt expression makes her smile.
He's not going to let her be in a bad mood on her last last day. Because no matter how much Percy wants to deny it, he knows he's not going to get another freak hurricane or rainstorm the next day.
She takes another sip of her coffee and frowns.
"You know, you could at least pretend to be sympathetic towards my cause, instead of being so happy I'm staying."
He grins.
"Annabeth, when I heard all flights were cancelled last night at 3:00am, I screamed so loudly that they called security on me."
She laughs now, for real.
"Seriously?"
"Yeah. I'm not going to pretend I'm not happy you're staying."
Which is when she steals a kiss from him right in the middle of the breakfast buffet and Percy thinks she doesn't need syrup to be so sweet.
Alright, so he's a bit of a sap. Big surprise.
Rainstorm means no pool. No pool means Percy is stuck inside. Stuck inside means stuck inside with Annabeth. Annabeth is synonymous with happy.
Percy dares anyone to look it up in the thesaurus.
It's not necessarily that Annabeth is a particularly happy person. In fact, she's the opposite—cynical and sarcastic all the time. But she's also insanely smart and funny and thoughtful and just thinking about how pretty she is makes Percy squirm inside. Not like he judges people completely by looks—it's what's on the inside of course—but she's just so darn gorgeous that it just makes the whole talking thing even harder for Percy.
And his breathing could use some work around her too.
And if there were some sort of intelligence pill he could take to avoid sounding so stupid, he'd probably take that too.
But no matter. He's happy all the time, and he thinks she is too, so that's all that counts.
"You know, I'm really not trying to ruin any mother-son time here," she says passing him a pint of ice cream they bought at the CVS next to their hotel.
She rests her head on his shoulder and tucks her feet under his leg. Her hair is wet from running around in the rain, and she smells like lemons with a hint of the ocean.
"It's fine. I get to see my mom all the time and I only get to see you once."
"Twice," she corrects, disgruntled.
"Don't still be mad about your flight," he begs, pulling on one of her wet curls and shoving three spoonfuls of peanut butter chip ice cream into his mouth.
"I'm glad I got to stay, but try explaining this situation to my boss. And hey—" she reaches toward him, "stop eating all of that."
He passes the ice cream back.
"I like movie days in the hotel room," she decides, pulling the blanket they have over them up around her chin. Percy agrees. He could see himself doing this every day for the rest of his life and being happy. "Even though all we're doing is eating junk food and sitting on the sofa."
"Good thing you're leaving so you won't have to wear a bikini anymore."
She stares at him. He replays the sentence over in his head.
Shoot him.
He just called her fat, accidentally.
"Oh crap Annabeth that is not what I meant you are like the skinniest—"
She presses her mouth to his, hard, to shut him up, and she tastes like peanut butter and chocolate.
When she pulls away her lips are red and her eyes are shining and Percy has the wind knocked out of him.
"I believe it's my turn to pick the next movie."
He can't really argue with that.
"I don't want today to be over."
"You're such a sap."
But she's blushing.
"We should date. For real. You leaving me is giving me a panic attack. I'll die."
"Way to be overdramatic, Jackson."
"Leave me your number for when you're in New York?"
"Yeah."
And saying goodbye is a little bit easier when the time comes.
They try dating for a while. And at first it works. She stays with him when she's in New York, and they manage like a normal couple. Better, in fact. They fight about stupid things, perhaps more often than not, but it brings them closer. Percy is deliriously happy and so is she.
But soon enough she gets a promotion that requires her to stay full time in California. She's near tears when she tells him and he begs her not to take it, but she says it's an opportunity she can't refuse.
And when Percy asks what's more important, him or the job, she starts crying. She says that there are seven billion people in the world, and only one chance like this. She says of course she loves him more than she's ever loved a person before, but something inside Percy shatters.
He asks if they can make the long distance thing work and she says no because she loves him too much to watch their relationship slowly crumble.
She tells him to find another girl, and Percy nearly blacks out because she's his girl and she doesn't get it.
That night Percy cries more than he ever has before and eats a pint of peanut butter chip ice cream and sleeps on the couch because the bed is too cold without her.
THREE YEARS LATER, PUERTO RICO:
"I knew I'd find you here."
Percy can still recognize that voice anywhere.
Don't move. You're imagining it.
Sure, he misses her a lot. And by a lot he means it nearly kills him every day. But hearing her voice is even a bit much for him. God, it sounds so real.
Maybe it's where he is and all the memories it brings back. He stays perfectly still, his eyes fixed on one of the coconuts on a palm tree in front of him.
Don't look.
"Pretending to be asleep, I see. That didn't fool me the first time, you know."
He looks.
She's there, in the same goddam bikini with the same goddam tattoo, and she's just as beautiful as last time. Probably more beautiful.
"What are you doing in Puerto Rico?" he asks.
"Looking for you."
Percy stores that sentence in the back of his brain to analyze and reanalyze later.
"Well, I come here every year. You know that."
"I do," she concedes.
"I hate it here." She doesn't answer, so he fills in the blanks. "It's not the same without you."
She sits on the edge of his lounge chair, and her legs are touching his and he can't breathe all over again.
She holds out her hand and he takes it.
"Hi, my name is Annabeth Chase. I'm twenty-six years old. I'm single. I live in New York permanently now, and I'm still in love with you."
And she's still just as goddam perfect as she was before.
"Me too," he manages, and yup, he's still so in love.
Her eyes rake across his bare chest and settle on a point on his side. He feels self-conscious for a moment before he realizes what she's looking at.
Percy has the words 'Scars are just another kind of memory' tattooed across his ribs, and they call it a match.