A one shot, set after BOTL, in Annabeth's POV. I kinda always wondered what Annabeth was feeling and doing during the year between BOTL and TLO. This is my idea. There probably should have been some fights with monsters, but they irritate me and I can't write them anyway. Umm… yeah.

Probably OOC and almost complete angst. First fanfic so will welcome any (friendly) advice. Don't really like the beginning, but it kinda gets better.

First try at a disclaimer:

Percy Jackson belongs to Rick Riordan

He's the author, not me or my local traffic warden

The inspiration and title come from Taylor Swift

I hope that now I've mentioned them, they will not be miffed

1:00am. The flashing red numbers burn into my sleepless eyes, branding and rebranding themselves with each flash. I stretch, giving up on the pointless effort to find the oblivion of sleep. Letting my feet guide me, I pad across the soft, plush carpet and find myself in front of my window, open to the airless night. I blink and listen to the sounds of the city, something I've grown used to over the last year or so. I can't sleep, as always plagued by the dreams of a demigod, and I bet Percy's still awake too. Unlike me though, he doesn't suffer from insomnia - he was always out like a light on quests and a pain to wake up in the mornings. A teenage boy thing I have always envied. No, instead he'll be up worrying about what we're going to be faced with over the next year (or hyped up on coffee, which is Grover's fault, no matter how much he swears that he's had nothing to do with Percy's new found addiction).

He'll be tired after a long, hard week. Even by mortal standards he'll be busy. On top of the normal school work he will have to complete, Sally will probably have got Paul to tutor Percy a bit. He needs it after the amount of school he's missed over the last few years and he's refused any offer of help from me in the last year. Probably a pride thing. Certainly not anything to do with the fact that we barely speak anymore. Definitely not that he doesn't want to see me.

Even without the work, he'll have been fighting monsters off left, right and centre. I can picture him now, hair tousled and unruly as always, with a slowly healing gash across that gorgeous jaw line of his. At least that might sort out that stupid lopsided smile that irritates me so much (and somehow never fails to make my heart pound).

And I think he'll be sitting there, probably perched on the edge of that chair he loves so much, peering out over New York. Percy was always too attached to that place. The flashing lights, the constant chatter of millions - rightly named the city that never sleeps. I feel sorry sometimes, for any monster that would ever dare attack Manhattan because his wrath would be unendurable. I wouldn't even risk it.

Tonight, though, I wish that he would tear his eyes away from his beloved cityscape and gaze up at the stars, up at the newest constellation and remember a time when it wasn't all so complicated, a time when Rachel was just another girl's name and there was still hope left for Luke. Because then he would be staring at the same stars as me, thinking the same thoughts as me and we would finally share some common ground. Perhaps then we wouldn't fight so much and we could - what? We could do what exactly? He'd still be his father's son and we'd still argue just as often. Stupid, irritating, kelp headed…

A gentle, cool whisper of a breeze stirs my hair, cutting off my rambling thoughts, reminding me of the lateness of the hour, My eyes suddenly drooping wearily, I stumble back to my bed , pulling the covers over my head and cocooning myself in my sheets. As the last few threads of consciousness threaten to disappear, I wonder (and secretly hope) whether Percy thinks about me as often as I think about him.

...

I bundle into bed one night, missing the days when I would be able to sneak out of the cabins, dodging the harpies, to meet up with Percy on the beach. It was our place and we would sit there, the waves lapping at our feet, sometimes in silence, sometimes unable to keep our troubles to ourselves.

But this isn't camp and he's on the other side of the country. I have to face this stupid mortal life on my own. I wish I could simply Iris Message him, tell him about how my brothers wouldn't stop screaming all day. Or how my step-mum won't even let me mention monsters, as if just talking about that side of my life will kill us all. Or how my bullies from last year are still in my class, but this time they're bigger. He would know what to say.

It's an impossibility though. I can't call him now, not after we left it that way. All those awkward, tension filled silences that Percy obviously doesn't understand. What's not to understand? He spent two weeks on a tropical island with a beautiful immortal temptress, while I sat at home thinking he was dead, in a complete state. When he finally decided to come home, he gives control of my quest to some mortal girl. Throughout that, he spends half the time insulting the guy I see as my older brother and the other half fighting him to the death. Not exactly the best summer.

I roll over to face the wall and grit my teeth. No matter our differences, he isn't just some random guy in my life who's disposable. He's my best friend. The guy I talk to when I need to have a good rant. The only one I trust with all my secrets, with protecting my back in a fight. The only one I work better with, than without.

I fight with my entire being to focus on something else. To distract myself, I count the number of cracks on the wall next to me, then work out the square root, cube root, the factors and the multiples of that, moving onto the working out the maximum weight that the wall could take without collapsing.

It's hours before I fall asleep.

...

"Honey! We're leaving in five minutes. Are you ready yet?" Marcia, my step-mum, calls from downstairs.

I almost growl. "Almost. Just… give me a sec, alright?"

"Fine but hurry up!"

I am tearing my room apart to find my favourite owl earrings but they refuse to be found. I search through the pages of the books under my desk, thinking that perhaps they fell into one of these. I had been hoping for a quiet night in but tonight my parents had decided we were going out for a meal as a family. Exactly what I needed - another evening of over polite conversation and snide comments when my dad's back is turned.

"Dear? What's the issue?"

"Just wait a moment, okay? Stupid bag." The last comment is muttered under my breath, although even I am unsure as to whether it was directed towards Marcia or the school bag that just caught on my foot, tripping me. I shake my favourite architecture book sharply, becoming hasty in my desperation, when a piece of paper flutters out unexpectedly from where it was tucked deep inside the tome. I hiss, sucking on a newfound paper cut and reach for the page. I stare in surprise at the torn sheet in my hand, covered by the unexpected scrawl I know so well.

Annabeth,

I know we're not exactly on speaking terms right not so I thought I wouldn't be able to say goodbye. I thought I'd write one instead.

Sorry for the way things have been between us this year - if I did something wrong (which I probably did), then times that sorry by a thousand. I hope you will forgive me for anything I did wrong, and that maybe we could be penpals?

I hope you have the best year. You deserve it. Maybe, if you don't like writing, you could call or IM me.

Ever hopeful,

Percy

How can anyone be angry at the boy for any length at all when he does completely adorable things like this? It almost makes me forget what I'm angry at him for, forget everything that's happened. Almost.

I am trying to decide whether to reply or not when Matthew bursts through the door. "Mum says to get a move on we'll miss our reservation." I am knelt in the middle of my trashed room, letter in hand and earrings forgotten. "Annie? Did you hear?" I nod, stuffing the letter under my mattress in the hope that I can forget it ever existed because it is just too confusing.

Matthew giggles and runs out of the room, knocking me out of my reverie. I jump up and chase after the little brat, yelling, "Don't you dare think you got away with calling me Annie!"

...

So much for forgetting about the letter. I feel like the princess in that fairytale who can't sleep because she can feel the pea through her mattress. I can almost feel it burning through the sheets every night and that notion never goes away.

It's an irritating phenomenon.

And then there's the voicemail. He left it a few days ago, a couple of weeks after I found the letter. It was kind of cute really, in an awkward, stuttery kind of way. Is it bad that I've already memorised it?

"Hey Annabeth. It's umm… Percy. I guess you probably already got that from the voice. I rang but you're not in. Of course you're not in - you'll be at school. I forgot about time zones. Again. I just don't get time zones. Why can't everyone - sorry. I'm rambling. Umm… so yeah. Oh, I called because I said you could call me but I never gave you my number. It's 45327-27… Oh gods, I forgot. Umm, give me a second to find it, will you?" There's a crashing sound in the background, presumably as he falls over his own feet in the hurry to find it before the recording cuts out. "Got it! 45327-279-498. Umm… that's all. You haven't sent anything yet. Maybe my letter got lost. Or maybe you hate me. Gods that makes me sound so needy - I'm just going to shut up now. Anyway, I'm sorry. For whatever I did. And I mi-"

The recording stops there. I wish it could have lasted a few more seconds, then I'd know whether he was about to say, "I miss you" or something stupid like "I milked a yak today".

Not that I want him to miss me. Not even a little bit.

...

I am standing on the beach in the moonlight back at camp, the waves crashing to the sand gently in the background. The sea salt is tangible in the air, reminding me of Percy and, as if summoned by the thought, his voice breaks the silence. "Look, I'm sorry." It appears I've accidentally stumbled into the middle of an argument he's having with someone else. "Annabeth, please look at me."

He's talking to me? I stifle a squeak of surprise before setting my face and turning slowly around to face him. His face matches his voice, pained and full of remorse, green eyes glittering with the light reflected off the water. It's not fair how good he looks - flawless skin, pearly teeth, a lean swimmers body wrapped in jeans and a tee-shirt. With the angular lines of his face, he resembles a Hollister model more than boring old Annabeth Chase's best friend. Mentally snorting at my ridiculous train of thought, I raise an eyebrow to indicate that he should continue.

He runs his hand through his hair, messy and tangled as usual. "Well at least you're acknowledging me now. I'm really sorry. I don't know what for and it would be really help if you would answer me…" He pauses hopefully. I answer with a withering glare. "…but I still am no matter what because nothing is worth you treating me like this. We've been friends for four years, Annabeth, four years. That has to count for something and I just want my best friend back." He pauses. "Look I'm trying here. Can't you meet me halfway and tell me what went wrong?" Irritation is seeping through his voice.

I've had enough. If he thinks that he can get me back with that tone, he is sorely mistaken. I turn and walk away in the opposite direction. I make it a good hundred feet before Percy finally realises I'm leaving and runs after me. The thud, thud, thud of his bare feet compacting the sand with every step gets closer until I feel his hand anchor itself around my wrist and whip me round to face him again. His touch washes through me in a tidal wave of warmth and the irrational feeling of complete safety because of his closeness engulfs me. It irrational and, as such, I brush such inconsequentialities aside.

Still holding my wrist, he whispers, "Time for Plan B," and abruptly gets down on his knees. I stare at him in surprise. "Okay, let's start at the beginning shall we? Well, you hated me for most of the first year I knew you, so I'll just do a blanket apology for anything I might have done then. I also apologise for teasing you about being at my window when we were thirteen and for not fighting hard enough to stop Dr Thorn from taking you. I'm sorry for not getting there faster. Sorry for making you think-"

"Is this Plan B? Begging at my feet?" The situation was sufficiently mortifying for him (and therefore sufficiently amusing for me) that I surprised myself by speaking to him. I watched his face as shock, then amusement, suffused his features.

"Well, I prefer to call it 'Plan B: Percy grovels for forgiveness for every transgression he has ever committed' but you can call it what you like. Whatever floats your boat."

"You looked half of those words up on the internet earlier, didn't you?"

"It's a definite possibility." A pause. "Am I forgiven? I'm happy to keep grovelling but it wet down here and I heard you can get arthritis if you kneel in the wet for too-"

I chuckle. "Shut up. I forgive you." His face lights up like it's Christmas and he's a five year old boy who's just spotted all the presents.

"Really?"

"Unless you want me to change my mind…"

"Gods no." He jumps up, giving me a glimpse of his mind blowing, full on, lopsided grin before pulling me to him and wrapping his arms around me. I tentatively put my own around his shoulders (which are so broad now I can barely do this) and his tighten about my waist. I rest my head against his shirt and breathe in his natural salty scent, before trying to pull away. We don't want this hug getting awkwardly long.

Apparently, Percy has other ideas. Instead, he pulls me closer, his arms like iron rods against my back and nuzzles head into my neck, making a protesting sound in the back of his throat that ends up something like a growl. My face ends up embedded in his unbelievably toned torso.

I cough. "Can't… breathe." Percy gives a low, throaty chuckle and releases me slightly so there are a few inches between us. His arms remain loosely around my waist and he rests his forehead up against mine.

"Gods Annabeth. I missed this. I missed you." His normally sea green eyes seem darker, more stormy and shadowed with emotion. "Never do this again, okay? It nearly killed me. I couldn't sleep. All I could think about was you and-" He breaks off and closes his eyes, as if unable to continue. Next time he opens them, they fix firmly on my lips. I lick them subconsciously, then kick myself because it seems like such an obviously flirty thing to do. This quickly changes to self-congratulation though after he almost whines at the action. He lifts his forehead, leans down and-

I sit up, gasping. Glancing around, I find myself in my bedroom, no Percy in sight. I flop back onto my pillows, then swing my legs from under my covers and once again walk across to the window. Yet another dream about Percy.

Gods. I need help.

...

I leave a note at the end of the garden like I always do when I want to meet up with Thalia. I don't know how she gets them and sometimes it can take a while, but she always does.

It takes a few weeks before the note is replaced with another simply saying:

Starbucks. Thursday. 2:30. See you then. - T

I sigh. Another few days to wait.

...

I am sat in a booth with my black coffee (trying to stay awake after a week of late studying) when Thalia finally bursts through the door of Starbucks. She reels off an order for an iced green tea and a brownie - "but no crappy stuff. I want the real thing" - terrifying the poor girl behind the till who stutters as she prints off the receipt and calls out the order. At the other end of the counter, a guy, who is obviously waiting for his own order, smirks and sidles up to her, looking impressed.

Just as he opens his mouth, she whirls on him and spits out, "If you're even thinking of trying to flirt with me, run along back home like a good little boy because I can guarantee you won't like what happens if you do.' He closes his mouth, stares blankly at her for a minute, then slinks back to the spot he was in before.

She smirks. Not attempting to hide her impatience, she grabs her order as soon as it's called and finally notices me in the corner. "Annie!" I glower at her as she stomps over to me and dumps her stuff on the opposite side of the table. Sliding in and stuffing her face full of brownie she says, "Fh waphs huphh?"

"Ugh, nice view, thanks Thals. What was that?"

She swallows. "So what's up? I presume this isn't just a social call."

"It sort of is. I needed a girly chat."

"I never thought I'd see the day that Annabeth Chase needed to have a 'girly chat'. So, what is it?"

"Boys."

"Really. You called an eternal maiden who has completely sworn off men to talk about your latest little crush and you thought this was a good idea? It is a crush right? If some guy has hurt you I will torture them for the rest of time!"

"No, no-one's hurt me. No need to go all scary Thalia on me. Anyway, it's not a crush, it's just…" I trail off, unable to put it into words.

She groans. "Oh my gods, as if it wasn't bad enough. It's about my cousin, isn't it? Why me Zeus? Why me?"

"No need for the amateur dramatics but yes, it's about Percy - how'd you know? And for your information, I wasn't just going to go and tell Silena or someone. It would be around camp in a matter of minutes."

"True dat. I knew it was Percy because you got all dreamy and denied it."

"Did not!"

"I rest my case. Okay, if I'm really going to do this you're at least going to cover my costs. I refuse to pay for the privilege of being tortures. I'm no sadist." I fish a few coins out of my pockets, then slide them across the slightly sticky table to her. "Right then, spill the beans."

I do. I tell her why Percy and I split how we did at the end of the summer, about our issues. About the letter, the voicemail, the dreams. "And I could swear Aphrodite hates me. I'm positive that I saw a cloud on the way over this afternoon that actually spelt out 'CALL PERCY'. It's ridiculous. My life has become a farce. What do I do?"

Thalia's face had flickered from anger to amusement and everything in between during my retelling. She pauses, then says dryly, "How about call him?"

It's a ridiculous suggestion and I tell her so.

"Why? Because he doesn't want you to call? He's been begging you to. Because he would be angry for you for not talking to him for months? That's stupid. Even if it was anyone else, he'd presume that they had a good reason and just be happy they were around now. I should know, that's what I'd do and you're always saying how similar we are. But it's you, not just anyone else, so he's going to be over the moon that you're talking to him again. For the gods sakes, he's probably even more in love with you than you are with him, if that's possible."

My temper flares. "What the hell Thalia? We're just friends and nothing more. Why does everyone presume otherwise? How would you like it if people said we were lesbians and in love with each other?"

"Aww I'm flattered Annie but-" She tries to interrupt but I don't let her. At this point, most of Starbucks are staring at us.

"But we're just friends." I finish her sentence. "Exactly. Me and Percy are just friends. We don't have feelings for each other and he's certainly not in love with me!" I sound almost hysterical at this point, even to myself, and attempt to calm down. "Look, I'm sorry Thals, but I came to you so I could avoid this sort of rubbish. I didn't mean to take it on you. I'll see you later, alright?" Without waiting for an answer, I walk out, leaving a stunned shop and an oddly smug Thalia in my wake.

...

It's been weeks since that say with Thalia, and I can't say she helped much. Her words have been echoing around in my head - "How about call him?", "He's going to be over the moon that you're talking to him again" and, most importantly, "He's probably even more in love with you than you are with him." What a stupid comment to make. She couldn't be more wrong.

So why can't I get it out of my head?

Such thoughts have taken up permanent residence in my brain, scrambling any chance of logical thinking that might actually help me solve this issue. In order to rid myself of these ideas once and for all, I find myself following Thalia's advice.

I had to call Percy Jackson.

Of course, this isn't that much of a big deal. When we were younger, we used to IM for hours and talk about anything and everything. Nothing has changed; we were still friends (more or less), so this shouldn't be awkward. Not. At. All.

...

I wait until my family leave to go out for the evening (who knows where, they never invited me) and then rush upstairs. I grab a handful of drachmas before darting to my parents' en-suite, once again thankful that Dad and Marcia had gone for a shower with a mist function.

A deep breath gives me a chance to unjumble my thoughts and quell the unexpected butterflies in my stomach. Before I can stop myself, I switch the shower on and throw in a drachma, saying "O Iris, goddess of the rainbow, accept my offering. Percy Jackson, Upper East Side, Manhattan."

The mist remains just that for a few seconds. Confused, I prepare to try again, when suddenly a voice speaks. "Recipient not found. Searching other locations. Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon located - is this who you wished to call?" Startled, I nod. "Dialling Percy Jackson at Dare Enterprises."

Dare Enterprises?

That could only mean one thing.

A picture finally comes into focus. It's of a large apartment, all open plan. Half of one wall is entirely windows, exposing the iconic New York skyline, while the others are mostly bare apart from three doors and a few pieces of modern art. A small kitchenette is in one corner, a sprawling couch and cinematic TV in the other. In between is a dining area, where my attention now focuses.

A boy and a girl sit at the table with their backs turned to me. Percy looks the same from what I can see, with tousled hair and clothes that look like he threw them on in the dark that morning. If anything, he looks a little more toned than he did last summer. The fiery red hair of the girl next to him is instantly recognisable.

Audio is finally added to the IM. "If two x plus five y squared equals seventeen and fifteen x minus y equals nine, what is x and y?" Percy's voice sounds confused. They're obviously going through his algebra homework together, something he never did understand even though I was the one who always helped him. Who does she think she is? "Ugh, I don't get it. Who cares anyway?" He buries his head in his arms, hiding his face and his embarrassment.

The she devil finally speaks up. "You're fine, you just need practice. Okay, you suck now, but you'll get better. How could you not under my expert tutelage?" She ruffles his hair and he looks up at her. Their faces are entirely to close to each another. Her hand lands on his arm and she leans towards him. "I will take it personally if you fail this next exam." The last words are almost whispered. I almost gag at her outrageous flirting, the way she stares into his eyes a moment too long. It's sickening.

Picking her hand up, she traces his jaw lightly. "Now, what I believe you need as some brain food are cookies, of the blue variety. Am I right?" Percy nods eagerly, almost puppy like in his desperation for the blue food. She taps him on the nose, then stands.

And sees me.

"Umm… hi." She seems a little surprised to see me but she's composed enough to say something, unlike me. I take a step back, standing on a bar of soap which sends me clattering to the floor.

"Huh?" Percy whirls at the strange sound. "Annabeth? Annabeth!" My eyes begin to fill with tears, partly because my ankle hurts like Tartarus, but mostly at the sight of them standing side by side, looking like the perfect couple. "Are you okay? I'm so glad you called, I've been so worried. I thought-"

I finally locate the soap I tripped over, then hurl it with all my might at the Iris Message, destroying the connection. He's cut off mid sentence.

I can't believe it. He's replaced me, and with Rachel 'She's a… friend' Dare, of all people. How could he! I finally decide to forgive him and talk, at his insistence no less, and he does this! I refuse to cry over a boy. Annabeth Chase does not cry!

Regardless, I curl up in the corner and weep.

There we have it. Well done if you actually made it through, it wasn't exactly the best piece of writing in the world. I wasn't sure on the ending but I was trying to keep it in canon and that meant I couldn't really get them together Anyways… please review. I'll love you forever!