Disclaimer: I do not own.

The sweet smell of fall greeted her as she walked out of her dorm, clothed only in her boyfriend's Dartmouth sweatshirt and her tight blue jeans. Her fingers fiddled with the ends of the sleeves, tugging them uncertainly, as if they could cause an explosion at any moment. Lawrenceville was getting colder now, and so she needed all the warmth she could get. Not too cold to where she would have to break out any true Winter gear, but cold enough that she could shamelessly wear his sweatshirt. Of course, any other point in the year she wore it as often as the weather permitted. Now she just had an excuse to wear it.

It still smelled like him, Annabeth realized with great joy. Usually after two weeks of heavy wear her boyfriend's sweatshirt no longer smelled like him. His particular mix of ocean and warm chocolate chip cookies was stained into the very fabric of the crewneck. In order to maintain the scent, they rotated around three or four different sweatshirts of his. He'd wear one for about two weeks before sending it to her.

Since they could only keep in touch over social media, being able to smell her boyfriend was a huge comfort. His scent would hug her, giving her a ghost of his arms around her stomach and his chest pressed against her back. School for both of them had been tough, with him being a sophomore in college and her a senior in High School. College apps had hit her hard, and as much as he tried to be, him not being there for her was a major test of her will. She hadn't seen him since her Fall Break, over two weeks ago, when she had gone to DC with him for a long weekend.

He was a drug, unfortunately, so being away from him caused severe withdrawals. The sweaters helped, but they were only a temporary substitute. Facetiming, texting, snapchats – all were temporary substitutes as well that only fueled her addiction to the real thing.

Her phone buzzed in her back pocket. Her hand reached down to slide it out. Her thumb pressed against the power button that laid on the side of the phone.

A white notification blurred the blue background. The white numbers at the top of the phone told her it was a little past ten. He was late. And the notification was just another of the relentless news alerts she got, innumerable in quantity. "Ugh…"

She and Percy had gotten together in the summer before his first year at Dartmouth, her high school junior summer. He was her best friend's older cousin, and they had bonded over a summer of sun and laughs on rocky Maine beaches and wooden boat decks. He dressed preppy, an impeccable sense of taste that had to be inherited from his mother, because his father's favorite clothing article was any Hawaiian shirt.

She had fallen for him hard over their summer in New England. Never, not once in that fateful month, did she think he reciprocated. How could he have? But on her sixteenth birthday he had professed that he did, indeed, feel that same burning in his heart when he was around her (and they totally didn't fuck on his boat afterwards… that would be ridiculous, really). Now, almost a year-and-a-half later, the memory of his words that night filled her with intense, burning happiness.

That happiness was, however, conflicting with anger due to the fact that he was late and had neglected to tell her why. She wasn't surprised by his tardiness, for her boyfriend was notoriously always a minute or two too late.

Her angry legs walked over to her favorite tree on the quad. He should at the very least have told her he would be late. He knew she hated that about him, the one thing that irked her to death. He had tried, for about a month, to be timelier, but it soon became apparent that nothing could actually make Percy arrive on time. It was as if he was predetermined to be late to everything.

Her phone buzzed once more to break her out of her ire. This time the alert that blurred the background was a short text from her boyfriend.

Percy: trble at dnkn, b thr soon ❤️

Her eyes rolled. Exhibit number ten-thousand, six-hundred, and four. No matter how hard he tried, Percy was always late. Annabeth wondered if it was one of Newton's laws. She cleared the alerts, then stared at the background that hid below. A backdrop of a beautifully blue sky, empty of clouds, full of sun, led to a lone figure working the rigging of his boat. His tan muscles flexed, energetic, outlining every differentiation. His arms were raised to the sky; this had the dual effect of showing off his lean biceps and his bulging shoulder muscles. A pair of dark blue board chubbies sat just below the hard lower-back muscles. They covered up a divine ass that was any girl's dream. Although she could only see the back of his tousled dark hair, so easily messed by the seawinds, and had no view of face, it was the perfect background.

It reminded her of how much she loved to lay her face on his muscled back and listen to his heartbeat from behind. Her hands would slip around to his waist and stomach, tracing the definition on his abs. And then, slowly, to labored moans, her hands would sneak down farther, a little farther, past the V that connected his abs to his groin, then she'd slip her hands around his hardness and –

She took a breath as labored as his was in her day-dream.

Bad.

Curse him for his ability to take her from being aggravated with him to fantasizing about him within the span of a minute.

With an exaggerated sigh, she sat herself down on the quad, back leaned up against her favorite tree. She put her phone down, deciding to take in the beauty of fall instead. She sat, watching the red, yellow, and orange lollipop trees shed their leaves like her lab shed his hair on a hot day. She sat, waiting for him to show up, in his old Volvo wagon, with its adorable wood paneling, old paint, and cloth seats. She sat, remembering so many good memories of being in that car. He was picking her up and they were going to drive down to Charlottesville for Thanksgiving with her family.

And then? She wasn't sure. He had an extremely long break, six weeks in total. Perhaps he would stay in the city and come to see her over weekends. Yes, that sounded quite nice.

"Whatcha watching for, Bethie?" In response, the blonde ran her hand through her curls and sighed. Isabel was a part of her friend group, but the two never really got along, communicating more through mutual friendships.

"Nothing of your concern."

"Wow, alright. I was just being a good friend and making sure you weren't sitting out here all alone!" Isabel's bullshit was easier to smell than literal bullshit. It seemed as though she was in one of her more antagonistic moods. The two girls, besides being in the same friendship circle, also competed for top spots in her class. It brought Annabeth immense joy to tell Isabel that that BC test she had gotten a 98 on? Yeah, she spent fifteen minutes reviewing before taking it.

Okay, so maybe she had taken a Calc 1&2 course over the summer at Princeton, and had learned Calculus on her own with Khan academy at the age of fifteen, and was currently taking multivariable calculus and number theory online, so she knew a lot of the material already…

No matter. The point was, Annabeth's intellect was off the charts while Isabel had to grind for every point above an 85. It brought a smirk to her face just to think about it.

"Okay, Isabel," she replied, trying to sound bored, but failing miserably. The gloating she was doing in her head seemed to flood out of her tongue.

"So….?" Isabel began to question the blonde. Annabeth felt like Diogenes right now, except comparing Isabel to Alexander was a gross mischaracterization. "Are you going somewhere for…" her voice trailed off.

"Shit," Isabel muttered, finding her voice again. Her tone, however, was breathy, as though she had either been hit by a bus or ran a marathon. Annabeth, who had moved her gaze to her shoelaces that were far more interesting than Isabel, immediately knew what Isabel was seeing. Or at least had an inkling of an idea.

"You're blocking my view." Annabeth channeled her inner Diogenes, trying to see if her sheer force of will could move this bitch out of the way without having to resort to violence.

Surprisingly, it worked. Apparently, whatever had captivated Isabel had sent her into a kind of trance. It had to be Percy then. Nothing else on this gods-forsaken campus was half as gorgeous as him.

Isabel stepped aside.

It was Percy, in his seemingly endless beauty, wearing dark blue khakis and a knitted off-white sweater over a light blue oxford shirt. And was he…?

Today, his face, defined by sharp jawlines and cheekbones, was framed in rounded turtle shell glasses. Goddamn bastard. Did he know what his body did to the straight women and gay men everywhere? A smile stretched out his lips as he caught sight of her. His face lit up, powered by happiness, all due to her. She loved the feeling that caused inside of her.

Annabeth smiled back, overjoyed she could see him again. She wanted to be sly, teasing, cheeky. But she hadn't seen him for so long she couldn't contain herself. Not bothering to brush off the leaves or the dirt that stuck to her thighs and butt, she stood. Her legs took her straight into his arms. They pushed off the ground, causing her to leap onto him. Even Percy's strong body wasn't prepared for the sudden force, and so he staggered back a few feet. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, savoring his smell with deep breaths. She took her dosage straight from the source.

"I missed you." Her voice was smaller than she wanted it to be, but she felt so damn comfortable in his arms right now she couldn't care what she sounded like. She nuzzled her head into his neck, trying to bury her face on his shoulder forever.

"I missed you as well baby girl." His arms squeezed her tightly against him, her legs doing the rest of the work, wrapped around his waist. He pressed a light kiss to her forehead.

Percy read her so well, knowing what she needed possibly even before she did. He had been so attentive to her that first summer that by the end of it he knew her better than she ever knew herself. So, he knew when she needed her space, when she needed to be held, when she needed to rant, when she needed to blow off steam fucking or working out, when she needed to be coddled and spoiled, when she needed to be strong and badass.

He never blamed her for being a needy little bitch, only gave and gave and gave. He understood her. It's why he was the best.

He laughed happily when she dug her fingers into his hair; she planted a kiss against his neck. She smiled, in a blissful haze, and pulled back. Her fingers in his hair anchored her. They leaned into each other, his hands acting as a shelf under her ass and thighs. She felt him squeeze her derriere; their lips caught each other. She tilted her face to deepen the kiss, her tongue licking his bottom lip, begging for access.

The moment he gaze it to her though, and her tongue breached the threshold of his mouth, she burst out in laughter. It was a bit awkward at first when her tongue was in his mouth, but after a little bit of sputters she disentangled their lips. He probably thought her more insane than he already did, but she couldn't care. She had just realized that she was doing this in front of Isabel.

"Beth?" Percy's tone was concerned, his grip on her ass lightened considerable. No, that wouldn't do. She gripped his waist with her strong legs, pulling him back in.

"Shut and kiss me."

He complied without having to be told twice. His fingers returned to gripping her rear, making her melt into his mouth as their tongues battled. Too much PDA? Perhaps, yet she couldn't bring herself to care.

His mouth tasted like Dunkin coffee; his body smelled like pine, a new scent. The way his mouth moved on hers – the way it moved all over her body – was heaven.

When they finally broke away, panting slightly, she was set down gently on soft grass. Her feet touched the ground; her legs went slightly wobbly.

"You've got to go get my bags, strong man," she joked after recovering her breath, punching his bicep. He just sighed, shaking his head.

"You just want to use me as a pack animal."

"Mmmm."

Percy turned his head to find that they had had a spectator the whole time. When he recognized her from Instagram and Snapchat and all of Annabeth's long night-time rants, his eyes narrowed for only a slight second. They returned to normal, and Annabeth cocked her head, leaning back against his chest. His arms found their place on her stomach. Their hands intertwined above her belly button.

"Hey, you're Isabel, right?"

Annabeth tried her best to not laugh at the expression on Isabel's face. It was as though she had been visited by an existential being, of which Percy was most certainly not (though his looks got him close). Her eyes were wide open, showcasing much of the whites of her (brown? hazel?) eyes. Her mouth was stuck in a slightly open position, an oblong 'O'.

"Uh…" Isabel didn't seem so sure of anything now, and it made Annabeth's mind take a victory lap. "I, um, yeah."

"I'm Percy." Her overly polite boyfriend had one of his hands abandon hers, as it marched to greet Isabel's. The Salutatorian of Annabeth's class couldn't do much but blush and stumble over her words as Annabeth's boyfriend shook her hand. Annabeth could tell that their hands left each other's grip far too soon for Isabel's taste. "Annabeth's told me about you a few times."

"Oh." Annabeth could feel Isabel's mind working overtime, heating up like a computer, trying to figure out just what foul lies Annabeth had fed her boyfriend. "Good things, I hope."

Her words were as uneven as a poorly founded house.

"Of course." Even from below, Annabeth could tell that Percy was giving Isabel a blindingly white smile right now. "She loves how you push her to put in effort. After all," he peeled away from Isabel's view to press a kiss to her forehead, "I think it'd be unfair if Annabeth got to put in no effort whatsoever to remain number one."

Boom.

Isabel's mouth hung open even further, before she turned, huffed, and stormed off. Annabeth watched her retreating figure with a huge smirk that didn't once threaten to run off. She spun around in her boyfriend's arms.

"Go grab my shit."

"I really mean very little to you, don't I?"

"You mean," she leaned up and planted a kiss on his chin. "A strong boy who can move heavy shit."

"I'm a man."

"Go grab my shit."

Annabeth watched her boyfriend's ass bulge against his tightish pants as he walked over to move her stuff.

"There's a chocolate donut and a large coffee in the car!" He called out.

Gods she loved him.

I decided to rewrite this because GoT/aSoIaF fanfics have improved my writing exponentially. If you aren't a fan of the show, watch it, then read those fanfics. They are absolutely incredible.

A Song for Dragons? 850 pages. That dude writes sins not tragedies.

Also, they're going to Dartmouth. Annabeth is basically me if I was a girl, so she's coming with me to be a 23. I hope I publish a lot more in college, but we'll see. I want to make this story more lifelike. Hitchcock said that drama was life with the dull bits cut out. I want this to be life. Drama and dull bits both. So if I post in college, expect long, rambling chapters that may seem boring but really are just deep character dives and whatnot.

Striving to provide Southern Hospitality the whole world over.

LoverBoi (yes I'm a guy)