Um, two months. Wow, I'm so sorry. But writer's block and finals and boy drama and all of this other crap has come knocking in my direction. And, for the most part, it's over. Well, except writer's block.
I'd like some help on that, so please feel free to give some ideas.
Now, I give replies to all of the reviewers that have hung on this long.
Eleos- Don't worry. They don't lose the V-card, I promise. You're right, they are only 16 or 17 and they aren't even technically dating so where the heck would that come from? Thanks for the review! :)
Nelly123- I hope I don't disappoint with this chapter. My writing style's been lacking of late and I'm trying to pull it back up to where it had been.
And there you have it: my two reviewers. Loving the loyalty guys!
The next morning was awkward, beyond the I-just-woke-up-next-to-my-best-friend-in-my-bed way that was fully anticipated, but more in the I-woke-up-next-to-my-best-friend-with-a-serious-need-to-kiss-him/her-even-though-I-know-I-shouldn't. And it wasn't that they couldn't—really, they could do just about anything since what had occurred last night—it was more that they were relentless on making this friendship work. Friendship, not intimate relationship.
That was the one line that Annabeth had drawn: through this misadventure she would stay strong and not fall head-over-heels for Percy ever again. Sure, he was probably the best boyfriend she could've asked for—loyalty, looks, and love. The three necessary L's in a relationship, and he had them. But he was too perfect. She was jealous and wanted him to only love her, yet she pushed him away when things got to good or when she wasn't in the mood to be around him. A contradicting personality, but that was just the way she worked. She had no idea how to push around it.
So, with sunlight filtering through the Poseidon cabin windows, the same salty air lingering, she lay with her head curled on his shoulder, her forehead pushed back by her raised eyebrows as she watched him sleep. Light drool, as was ever present. He shifted onto his side and curled his arm under his head, ripping her pillow from her. She instantly sat upright and peered around the room. Her breathing was tight and awkward, her heart beating unevenly, feeling his stomach move with his breath. She reached blindly to smack his chest.
"Percy." Her voice was quiet with the fear that if she woke him up they would never find self-control.
She had a problem, and his name was Percy.
But love wasn't exactly what she felt blooming in her chest and the pit of her gut—which the Romans had once believed was where emotions blossomed from. That had always been there, inside of her, growing and living and being. No, what was now developing that had never really been present was lust. She wanted him. She wanted him to stand beside her, to hold her and kiss her whenever he wanted to, to play with her hair or drop his hand on her thigh at cabin meetings. She wanted him to be the constant; to toy with her emotions on occasion as some elaborate plot to keep her interested.
"Hey."
She blinked back her thoughts and became aware of the fact that she had been staring at him with the barest trace of a smile. "Hey."
And it was just as she thought; one moment she was watching him carefully and the next she was making a terrible and desperate attempt to keep from kissing him. Her eyes darted to the broken fountain that was lying in a dead heap on the floor.
This used to happen to them on more than the usual occurrence between young teens at the same camp. She would just pop in to speak, mess around with his hair and his mind, and somehow she would end up in a dead sleep on his mattress, he lying beside her with the same impression that he was sleep deprived. It was almost an every night event before the break up and suddenly she had found herself right back where she started.
She slipped from under the sheets and combed the loose hair back from her eyes, forming quick, short strides to the door. With the doorknob under her firm grip, she gave herself a moment's hesitation to glance back at him, still ultimately settled into where he had drifted from consciousness. He stared at her, maybe two seconds, before turning over and pulling his blankets up a little more and pulling his arm under his head. With furrowed brows, and half a mind to go smack him out of disbelief—she was offended that he didn't bother to at least watch her leave—she exited the cabin, smoothed her camp shirt and hoped that the salty shade wasn't a dead giveaway.
She had spent her night with her ex-boyfriend. Dang, her mother was already sucking any wisdom she had from her mind.
A gleeful grin split her face. Maybe his stupid plan was working out for her.
Ahhhh, filler chapter. But again, I told you I'm at a loss for words and happenings. Help?
