The first time he sees her, she's wearing a loose, too-big black tank top that she pulls of (with style, may he add) as a mid-thigh dress. Her hair falls down in hopelessly disheveled locks down her back, her eyes are an odd, strangely fascinating stormy color and he can't help but to ravish at how strikingly beautiful she is. She walks to her seat which is, he desperately thinks, very far from his.
The guy next to him must've noticed his awestruck look and lingering gaze, because he whispers : "You're new, right? You're Percy, that scholarship kid, aren't you?" Percy responds with a simple nod, waiting for the guy to elaborate, which he does, by saying : "I noticed the way you were looking at her, man. Her name's Annabeth, and trust me you don't wanna go there. She's poison. She snorts coke at parties, and breaking boy's hearts seems to be her personal hobby."
Percy doesn't look at her until the bell rings and she gets up from her seat, stretching her slender limbs. He stares at her never-ending legs as she gracefully leaves the room, her gaze not leaving the floor. He sighs. He's a complete goner.
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They're assigned together on a project (how cliché, he matter-of-factly thinks), and they kind of, actually hit it off. He very quickly becomes pathetically infatuated with the scent of cigarettes and lemon she leaves behind when she gets up, with the way her eyebrows scrunch up when she's deep in thought and with those moments when her long, bony fingers would unintentionally brush his arm, automatically making goosebumps appear on his skin. He makes her laugh quite often, and never fails to notice that her eyes never quite break out of their sadness-filled haze. She's quite the mystery, he thinks, but sometimes mysteries are better left unsolved.
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A few days after the assigned together incident, as Percy so eloquently calls it, he gets a text from her, asking him if he would like to hang out. Of course he would, says his reply. They arrange to meet at her house, and when he arrives at his destination, he finds the "house" to, instead, be a mansion, with high roof tops and tall, stone-like tower looming seemingly far away, which makes him wonder how big her house really is. He knocks three times, and Annabeth opens the door right away. Her eyes are shadowed by fatigue-induced purple bruises, her hair is disheveled (even more so than usual) and her whole self is trembling imperceptibly. Somehow, she still manages to radiate an ethereal beauty. He tells her : "You look..." distressed. exhausted. sad. She cuts him off : "Terrible, I know. I was at this party last night; I swear I've really outdone myself this time..." "Oh." is Percy's very lame reply.
They talk for hour, only interrupting themselves when Annabeth gets up to go smoke outside, melancholia gracing her features as she does so, or when Percy is too entranced by the way her very defined jaw moves to carry on with the conversation. It's twisted, really, how infatuated he is with her.
Suddenly, impulsively, she says, voice shaky : "I bet you've heard things about me. I mean, about the way I act, and stuff..." Her sunken eyes look right through him. He quickly replies : "Well, yeah, people talk..."
"There's more to me than what people say." She utters, hesitantly, sadly.
"I know." Is Percy's only answer to her statement. She smiles at that, her grey orbs filled with so much sadness Percy wonders if genuine happiness will one day outdo the anguish that seems to surround her as an aura. He tells a joke, in hopes of loosening the atmosphere.
Her laugh is a bitter one.
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The next time he sees her is at a rather large party hosted by a not quite a friend, not quite an acquaintance of Percy, and, apparently, one of the many ex-boyfriends of Annabeth. He is only slightly intoxicated, but wants the buzz the alcohol gives him to disappear. He decides to go to the bathroom, with the hope that splashing some water on his face will remediate the situation, and, as he pushes the wooden door to access the restroom, he already senses that something important, or perhaps unusual, is going to happen. As he enters, he realizes that a tipsy Annabeth already occupies the room, her clouded, cat-like eyes seemingly unable to focus on anything. Percy's own eyes bounce back from the line of coke that she apparently was planning on snorting to her strangely unemotional features.
Unusual, indeed.
Heavy silence fills the room, and Percy wonders why he is so shocked. After all, he's heard about her drug habit (if you can call it that way). But, he guesses, maybe it is because it seems to be so unlike the Annabeth he know and cares (perhaps too much) about to do such a thing as snorting cocaine, that he is so taken aback.
Annabeth breaks the eerie tension that occupies the space in between them by saying : "Do you want to get out of here? I really fucking want to get out of here". Her raspy voice echoes for a few moments before Percy replies a not-very-confident : "Yeah, sure. Lead the way."
She brushes the white powder into the trash can as she leaves.
They go outside and walk for quite a while, both of them not speaking a single word, the deep, almost solemn silence of the night only disturbed by lonely crickets and the oddly calming sound of cars passing by. It is only when he turns around to face her that Percy realizes that Annabeth is crying, tears falling down her face and sliding down her neck. Her body is racked by soundless sobs, her shadowed eyes looking right in front of her, as if not daring to look anywhere else. Percy, a little worried, can't help but ask her why she is crying.
She responds in a surprisingly composed voice : "I guess I just didn't want you to see me like this... I mean, you know the drugs and everything. The thing is, you're the only person that seems to see me the way I really am, and I don't want that to change. You know when I snort cocaine, it's because I'm hollow and I want to change that, I want to feel something... I know I'm ranting, and I know the hollow part is incredibly cliché."
Percy interrupts her alarmed rant by saying : "Hey, it's fine. I don't see you any differently; I just wasn't expecting to see you doing drugs, I guess even if I was and still am aware of your reputation..."
And this time it is she that cuts him off by kissing him violently, their tongues instantly intertwining and battling for dominance. Percy automatically places a hand on the curve of her waist, reveling in her scent and taste, his eyes rolling at the back of his head as he kisses the section where her slender neck and delicate shoulder meet.
She is a mystery, he thinks, but she is definitely one worth solving.
Author note: I am relatively new to fanfiction and writing in general (this is my second fanfic). Also, English isn't my first language, French is. Constructive criticism only please! Don't hesitate to leave a comment! Thank you very much to everyone who reviewed my last story! Xo