Newt was sat under a weeping willow, gazing at the grounds and daydreaming about nothing in particular. It was a beautiful day; the sky was the colour of sapphire, dotted with tiny cotton wool clouds, and the pink and white blossom fell lazily to the grass when a breeze blew. Most of the college students lay on the ground, pretending to study or just chat with their friends.

But Newt didn't see any of this. The son of Hephaestus didn't even notice his fingertip had caught fire. Because a literal siren had just walked past.

Okay, maybe not literal. But shuck, was he beautiful.

He had black hair that glimmered cobalt blue in the sunlight, spiked up perfectly. He was clearly of East Asian descent, probably Korean, and his olive skin made his white shirt practically glow. He wore denim jeans, red Converse, and carried a guitar case as if it were feather light.

Then, he smirked.

At Newt.

Oh.

My.

Gods.

"I see your hand is in a ball of flames. Need help putting that out?"

Newt snapped out of his daydream. "Uh, no, it's fine." He closed his fist and damned himself for not being a son of Aphrodite instead. What was so hard about flirting?

"It's still on fire." And with that, the 'siren' shot a jet of water from his fingertip and onto Newt's hand, extinguishing the flames. He grinned devilishly as Newt stared at him, flopping down beside the other boy and dumping his guitar case on the floor.

"Son of Poseidon?" Newt asked. This was quite close to Camp Half Blood, so he wouldn't be surprised to learn it was true.

"That's right… I'm guessing you're one of Hephaestus's lot. You know, what with the British accent, tool belt, and combustible limbs."

Newt almost giggled. "Yeah. Yeah, my dad's Hephaestus."

Mr. Siren grinned. "Well, you certainly didn't inherit his face. Who's your mom? Athena?"

"Careful," said Newt, eyes heavenwards. "You don't want any curses on you."

"She's cursed me already."

"Oh, really? How?"

"I flirted with her son, who was really cute, and I was just getting ready to ask him out when a totally adorable guy smirks at me."

"That's hardly a curse…"

"Oh, trust me, it is. And he was oblivious to how much I liked him, too. Just kept on having a friendly conversation with me."

"What happened in the end?"

"I haven't got there yet."

Newt flushed crimson and looked down.

"Anyway," grinned the son of the sea god, "I'm Minho."

"Isaac."

"Cute name."

"My last name's Newton. But you can just call me Newt."
"I like that name. Mine's Park."

"That's a nice name too."

"Keep it. It suits you."

Minho smirked in a way that said, 'You're deliciously hot, and so am I.' It was beyond Newt's belief that a person like this had chosen to waste his time on a scrawny demigod like him, especially one that burst into flames when he got nervous.

"Want to get out of here?"

Newt snapped back to reality. "Uh, okay, but where?"

"I was thinking back to my place. We could hang out, watch a DVD. Of course, only if you want to."

Minho smiled awkwardly, his flirty demeanour slipping only slightly.

"But of course." Newt beamed up at the Asian boy, who offered his arm.

"May I escort you?" he asked, mimicking Newt's British accent.

"You are a true gentleman."

Arm in arm, they walked back to the dorms together.