Part One
"Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us." —R.S.
Annabeth sat, cross-legged, in her stepmother's art studio. The strange sounds of Bowie's Ziggy Stardust echoed from her battered record player in the corner and pale sunlight drifted through the window blinds, slashing shafts of hazy morning gold down the studio's white walls.
Annabeth's hands were covered in layers of slowly drying paint—blue pigment was crusted beneath her nails and in the lines of her palms. A paintbrush hung loosely between two fingers, forgotten. She glared at the piece she was working on—it was an abstract seascape, a foaming mess of paint. Needless to say, she hated it. It was taking her hours and she was utterly bored with trying to fix its flaws. With every second that passed, the painting looked less and less comprehensible.
With a hoarse sigh, she set down her brush. She lay down on her back, feeling the floor's hard floorboards pressing uncomfortably into her spine. Maybe she'd have another go at the painting later, but she imagined it was probably just going to join the dozens of other unfinished works stacked against the left wall.
Suddenly, a harsh, cacophonous clatter resounded through the apartment from the kitchen. The noise was quickly followed by a shout and a pained curse. "Motherfuck—"
"You okay?" Annabeth called.
After a pause, Helen yelled back. "Yeah, don't worry, sweetie! Just, ah, dropped a couple of plates."
Annabeth got up to check on Helen. Recently, her stepmom had been unravelling like this more and more. In the years since Annabeth's dad—Helen's husband—had died, she'd been a little unstable. Annabeth supposed it was better like this, though. If Helen had kept it together, Annabeth would've had space to grieve—and then where would she be?
After a moment of deliberation, Annabeth headed to the kitchen. Inside, Helen sat at the bar surface. The smashed remains of china plates littered the floor, and Helen was nursing a bloody hand. When Annabeth walked in, though, she hid it behind her back. "Oh! Hi, darling." Helen's voice was choked with quiet tears, even through her false, wide smile.
Annabeth walked straight to her, already grabbing the medicine box. "Hand."
"Annabeth, I promise it's fine—"
She fixed Helen with a cold look. "I'm not in the mood right now. Give me your hand or I'll let you clean all this shit up yourself."
Helen exhaled shakily. A few heartbeats passed before she offered Annabeth her hand. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, soft as anything. Annabeth wasn't sure when the roles had switched in their mother-daughter relationship, but she knew that they had.
It took her barely a minute to clean up her stepmother's hand, ignoring Helen's winces as she pressed an alcohol swab to the wound. Silence hung heavy in the air between them. Annabeth hurried to finish—the feeling of Helen's searching eyes on her face wasn't a pleasant one. When she finished securing the bandage, Annabeth couldn't step away fast enough. A flood of cool relief washed through her as distance was re-established between them.
Helen opened her mouth, hesitant. "Annabeth," she started.
Annabeth interrupted, unwilling to hear whatever she had to say. "Don't." Grabbing a dustpan and brush, she nimbly swept up the ruined china. The shards made a hollow clunk when they landed in the trash can.
She left. Helen didn't call after her, silent as she watched her daughter leave.
Annabeth headed for her room, not the studio. She shut the door behind her and threw herself on the bed, sprawled in a mess of limbs. She could still hear the faint hum of Ziggy Stardust from the studio, as the record hadn't yet finished. As she lay on her bed, staring vacantly up at her ceiling, she found herself mouthing along to 'Suffragette City,' barely able to hear the vocals through the wall.
The silver alarm clock beside her bed glowed faintly, flickering from 8:55 to 8:56 AM. Annabeth was exhausted—she'd been working on that goddamn painting all night and hadn't managed to steal a second of sleep. Thank God, it was spring break. Annabeth didn't know how she'd have survived school on this particular morning.
In her pocket, her phone buzzed. She slid it out, turning onto her stomach to open it. An Instagram notification from Piper popped up on her lock screen. She pressed on it and was immediately greeted by a post Piper had sent. White text glared from a dark screen, screaming Nerve Has Arrived In New York! Beneath the words, there was a subtitle that read Are you a player or a watcher?
Piper had sent a message immediately after it. Meet me and Jason at Nino's diner by five, everyone's fucking doing this thing!
Annabeth typed out a reply. What even is it?
Piper responded instantly. An online dare game. You sign up and people can watch you complete dares on a livestream. Every time you complete a dare, you win money. People get famous through this shit, annabeth! Also don't forget to come to Ninos xx
Annabeth sighed, and responded fine, I'll be there before chucking her phone down on her bed. So much for staying in and relaxing.
A few hours later, Annabeth finally finished her coursework for the day. She'd spent hours in the studio in order to finish some sketches that were due in for the next week, and Annabeth was glad she'd put in the effort. She hated leaving work hanging over her head.
Annabeth stood in the bathroom before the mirror. She was running argan oil through her unruly curls, trying to tame them before she had to head out in fifteen minutes—Piper had just texted to let her know her, Jason and Leo were meeting at Nino's diner at five.
Satisfied, she washed her hands and quickly applied a little concealer to her face to hide the dark half-moons that stood stark under her eyes—they were a by-product of insomnia and too many late nights. Finally, Annabeth swiped a little mascara onto her lashes to bring some life and contrast back to her face, leaning close enough to the mirror that her breath steamed on the reflective glass. Capping the mascara, Annabeth stepped back. She exhaled heavily, head feeling sluggish. It wasn't late, but sleep threatened to swallow her up anyway. School life did that to you.
Annabeth poked her head around the kitchen door before she left, calling, "Helen! I'm heading out!"
Her stepmother hadn't heard; she was asleep at the kitchen table, slumped forward in her chair. Vacancy hovered in the smooth, mild lines of her face that were usually all screwed up with anxiety and grief. Annabeth didn't want to wake her. Instead, she silently eased the half-empty whiskey bottle out of her absent grasp and left a note on the table in front of her. Gone out. I'll be back soon. With any luck, when Helen woke up she'd just take some aspirin and stumble into bed before Annabeth even got home.
Pulling on a jacket, Annabeth grabbed her keys and stepped out the door, earphones already in. She pressed play on a Spotify playlist and buried her hands into her pockets. New York was always cold in the spring, no matter how promising the forecast was. As she exhaled, a cloud of paper-white steam rushed from her chilled lips. At least it wasn't raining.
Three songs later, Annabeth was halfway to the diner. She looked up from her phone to cross the road, watching and waiting for the traffic light to flicker green. A sudden, jarring shout echoed from across the road, followed by a thump and a round of riotous laughter. A group of teenage boys were crowded around one of the traffic lights, yelling and jeering. A guy from their group was attempting to scale the pole, pulling himself up little by little. Annabeth crossed the road and approached, footsteps halting. She was curious.
Up close, Annabeth could see the guy more clearly. His hair was a mess—unkempt and raven-black—and he was panting with every new inch he gained on the pole. Someone below him jumped up, trying to grab his foot and dislodge him. They missed by an inch. The guy on the pole cursed, fighting to regain his grip. "Fuck off, I'm trying to concentrate!"
At that, everyone laughed. "You only got a minute left, Jackson," someone sneered. Cruelty dripped through their words, rancid yet sickly sweet. "Better be quick." With a start, Annabeth realised she recognised Jackson. Last year, he'd been in a few of her classes before eventually moving schools. Almost every time she'd seen him, he'd had bruises on his face or on his arms—of course, he always went around picking fights.
Jackson didn't reply. At last, he made it to the top of the traffic light pole. He quickly slapped the side of a bulb to show he'd made it, then jumped down. He landed haphazardly, grunting. Immediately the small crowd of guys around him surged forward, clapping him on the back. Someone handed Jackson his phone. He pocketed it, thanking them. Annabeth realised they'd been filming the whole thing.
She walked faster as she passed them, hoping to avoid any attention. Still, her gaze caught on Jackson's face—only for a second, but enough time for her to notice the harsh, indigo bruise that lay on his jutting cheekbone.
Then he looked at her, and she forgot everything she'd just been thinking. His eyes seared her vision; his gaze was a searchlight, bottle-green and blinding, blinding, blinding. Something shuddered inside her, stopped, then restarted when he looked away again.
The moment had been so fast, so fleeting that Annabeth wondered if it had even happened. She shook her head, pressed play on another song, and high-tailed it towards Nino's.
Annabeth approached the diner, pulling her earphones out and slipping her phone into her back pocket. The doors were wide open, letting light spill out onto the road. Above them, a sign reading Nino's Diner in bright, swirling neon glowed hazily in the dark evening. She walked in and warmth immediately rushed through her, buzzing all the way down to her blueish fingertips.
"Annabeth!" someone yelled. "Over here." Annabeth pivoted to see Piper, Jason and Leo sitting in a booth toward the back of the diner, enjoying some milkshakes. Leo waved her over, grinning.
As Annabeth approached, Piper scooted over to let Annabeth sit down. "Well, if it isn't the Ice Queen," Piper said, eyes glinting with humour. The scent of cinnamon washed over Annabeth—her friend's perfume was still as strong as ever.
Rolling her eyes, Annabeth reached for Piper's caramel milkshake. "Shut up, McLean." Taking a slurp of the drink, she made a face. "God, why do you always order that monstrosity with so much syrup? It tastes like roadkill."
Jason laughed, slinging an arm over Piper's shoulder as she pouted. "Don't take it personally, love." He kissed her cheek and whispered something in her ear, making her swat him away, laughing.
Leo stuck two fingers in his mouth and mimed a gagging motion. "You two are gonna make me throw up. I swear, it's nearly two months into your relationship and you're both still stuck in the goddamn honeymoon phase." He gripped Annabeth's arm, eyes pleading. "Chase, don't leave me alone with them. Please."
Annabeth pushed him off with a laugh. "Quit being dramatic. Just 'cause you're destined to die a lonely hermit—"
"Slander. Lies and slander."
Just then, a notification went off on someone's phone. Piper eagerly picked up her phone. Grinning, she showed the screen to Jason. "Look! I've got another one."
Jason took the phone off her, reading whatever was on the screen. "Oh, no. Pipes, don't."
Piper grabbed her phone back and handed it to Leo. "You. Film."
Leo sighed, but did so, holding it up so Piper was in frame. Annabeth nudged him, a little confused. "What's going on?"
"Piper's doing another one of those dares. You know, she's playing Nerve? I thought she told you about it."
"Oh, Nerve? That city-wide dare game? I thought that was fake!"
Leo laughed, smile crooked. "Nope. Anyway, the dare's to do a strip tease. Look." He showed Annabeth Piper's phone screen, which was flashing with a neon dare: Perform a strip tease. In the corner, there was a box that read 864 Watchers and Rising! The number kept changing, flickering higher and higher every second. There was even a chat feed in the corner where Piper's Watchers were talking, telling Piper to get on with the dare already and kept suggesting new ones.
Jason stood up with Piper, rolling his shoulders. "If you're doing it, I'm doing it."
Piper groaned. "Jason—"
"Nah, babe. If you want to embarrass the fuck out of yourself, I'm doing it with you." He turned to Annabeth and nodded at the jukebox standing next to her. "Put something good on, Beth."
Appalled but still a little interested, Annabeth dug in the pockets of her jeans and produced a quarter. She got up and pushed the quarter into the old machine, scanning the rows of songs on the jukebox. Musing, she ran a finger down the selections until finally landing on one: Me & Mr. Jones by Amy Winehouse. Perfect.
The song began. Leo clapped and whooped as Piper and Jason ran out into the middle of the diner, giggling, hands intertwined. Jason climbed up onto a table and offered a hand to Piper, pulling her up. He gave her a spin, yelling, "Minors, you might wanna look away!"
As Piper and Jason danced on the table-top, hands loosely clasped together, the dulcet tones of Amy Winehouse's voice drifted through Nino's Diner. People turned around, some scandalised and some smiling. Many clapped along to the music. Annabeth joined them, hoping her friends wouldn't be fined for public indecency.
Jason gave Piper a spin, nearly sending her tumbling off the table. Righting herself, Piper slid off her jacket, winking cheekily over her shoulder in an attempt at being somewhat risqué. Jason fanned himself, mouthing along to the song: What kind of fuckery is this? He began to unbutton his shirt, moving his hips to the rhythm of the music. Piper ran her hand down his chest, faking a swoon.
At that, Annabeth stifled a laugh, sharing a dry look with Leo. He was still holding up Piper's phone to film the dare, and the number of Watchers viewing Piper was steadily increasing faster and faster—it looked like she was getting popular.
Now, Jason was without a shirt and Piper was undoing hers, dancing lewdly to the song. A rosy blush stained both of their cheeks, a tell-tale sign of their embarrassment, but they continued anyway. As the song finished, Piper pulled off her shirt and flipped off the camera only in her bra while taking a bow, receiving raucous, good-willed applause from their audience in the diner. Jason hopped down from the tabletop, fishing their clothes off the floor.
Immediately, a ding came from Piper's phone. A notification flashed, reading Dare Complete. $96 has been added to your bank account. Annabeth frowned at the sight of it—that couldn't be real, right?
Re-dressing, Piper and Jason slid back into the booth. Jason heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank God. I was scared they'd kick us out the whole time."
Leo smirked. "Maybe some of the staff know about Nerve. I wouldn't be surprised—look how many Watchers you gained." He passed Piper her phone back, showing her the screen.
Piper took it, a slow smile spreading across her face. "Fucking hell. I won nearly a hundred bucks, too."
"You're not serious." Jason leaned around to catch a glimpse of her phone. At the sight of it, he shook his head in awe. "Who's funding this game?"
"Watchers," Leo replied. "Wealthy ones in particular. You know, there's money to be made from investing in this sort of thing." He took a long, repulsive slurp from his banana milkshake. "It's corrupted as fuck and most likely mafia-run, but Nerve's untraceable so nothing could ever be proven—and that's if anyone actually cared enough to look into it."
"Who cares?" Piper said. "It's fun and you can win a ton of money."
Jason shrugged. "I guess. Still, be careful, yeah? Don't do a dare if it seems dangerous. I heard a Player died last year during Nerve in Virginia. Fell off a bridge or something."
Piper snuggled into his shoulder. "Don't worry, babe. I'm not gonna do anything stupid."
Jason murmured a quiet I know and kissed the top of Piper's head. God, they were so cute together it made Annabeth's heart ache.
Leo turned to Annabeth, propping his chin up on his hand. "So, Beth. You planning on playing Nerve?"
Annabeth gave a sour laugh. "Oh, no. Absolutely not."
"Why not?" Piper asked. "You can gain, like, eight hundred more followers on Instagram. And," her voice dropped. "I know you could do with the money, Annabeth—"
Annabeth's jaw clenched. "No," she gritted out.
Piper was silent for a moment. "You know, you don't have to be so afraid all the time. It could help!"
Piper's words resounded inside her like a bone-crunching drum, stripping Annabeth down to nothing. "I'm not afraid," Annabeth said carefully, pronouncing every syllable like she thought she'd mess them up. Still, she could feel herself being persuaded—persuaded by the fantasy of winning dare after dare, maybe making enough money to go to one of the Ivy League colleges she wanted so badly. Stanford, or maybe Yale.
And God knew Helen could do with the money—she hadn't worked in months, and the life insurance money they'd collected when Annabeth's dad had died was beginning to dwindle.
Jason let go of Piper and reached for his milkshake. "Don't worry about it, Annabeth. Not everyone has to be cut out for this shit."
At that, Annabeth simmered quietly. She was stronger than they knew she was. Who were they to say what she could or couldn't do? Also, winning even just a couple hundred bucks could feed her and Helen for a month.
Gritting her teeth, Annabeth slid her phone out of her pocket. "Fine. I'll do it." When she opened her phone and pressed on Instagram, the choice still glimmered before her: Are you a PLAYER or a WATCHER? Refusing to allow her hands to shake, she clicked on PLAYER. Immediately, the Nerve app began to download on her phone. She opened it and pressed Yes on Allow access to Camera and Microphone?
Suddenly, Nerve was filming. Piper whooped. "Yes, Annie!" Her feed was trained on her own face. Annabeth swore silently. What the fuck was she getting herself into?
The chat box loaded in the corner of the screen. People were already joining her live feed and commenting shit like hey beautiful or C'mon, do a dare! Her Watcher count slowly rose as more and more people came across her stream. Annabeth swallowed her fear. She could do this.
It wasn't long before Annabeth's phone pinged, alerting them to her first dare. Leo leant around to look at Annabeth's phone screen. "What does it say?" he asked.
"Make out with a stranger," Annabeth read. God, she wasn't cut out for this. Why had she let the others pressure her into joining the game?
A sly grin crawled across Piper's face. She turned to look around the diner, gaze evaluative. "So, who are you gonna pick? That old guy over there?"
Annabeth shuddered. "No way."
Jason laughed. "Come on, choose faster. The timer's going down." True to his word, a timer had appeared on Annabeth's phone screen, counting down from a minute.
"Oh." Annabeth stood up, casting her gaze around the diner. She didn't know who to pick—the waiter? The old man? A wave of revulsion crashed through her just thinking about it.
"Hey, Beth." Leo was nudging her arm. "What about him? That guy over there, in the leather jacket."
Annabeth looked where he was pointed, and immediately her jaw dropped in startling recognition. It was Jackson—the guy she'd seen earlier climbing the traffic light. He was sitting in a booth across the other side of the diner, feet propped up on the table. To Annabeth's surprise, he was reading a book: Watership Down. It was one of Annabeth's childhood favourites.
"Thirty seconds left," Leo reminded her. He was filming the dare. "Go, go, go!"
"Fuck it," Annabeth muttered. She got up, walking quickly across the diner. Jackson didn't look up as she approached, clearly still absorbed in his book. A few strands of raven hair were hanging over his eyes, casting shadow over the purplish bruise on his cheek. For a second, the fleeting desire to brush the hair away crossed her mind, but Annabeth quickly regained her grip on reality. "Hey," she said, because you had to at least try to start a conversation with the stranger you were about to kiss, right?
Jackson looked up from his book, and Annabeth thought she might lose her breath. Green eyes met her own—they were so dark and dusky they were almost blue. His mouth quirked in a smile, and he looked for all the world like he'd been expecting her. "Oh, hey."
Annabeth struggled to speak, her mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Finally, she forced out, "So, how're you liking the book?"
He laughed. "Um. It's good—a little dark, though. Have you read it before?"
Annabeth nodded, fidgeting with her sleeve. She knew she didn't have much time. Instead of waiting any longer, she disregarded every ounce of sense in her body and leaned forward. Knotting her fingers in his jacket, she leaned down. "Sorry about this," she mumbled, and then she pressed her lips to his.
To her surprise, Jackson kissed her back, his hand reaching up to her cheek. Time slowed down. Seconds were days, were hours, were the breaths that caught between their mouths and the brush of fingertips on her cheek. His lips were chapped and brittle, but Annabeth didn't mind.
Too soon, they broke apart. Jackson's breathing was a little fast, and he seemed at a loss for words. "Wow," he managed. "You're a good kisser."
Annabeth didn't feel like letting him know that he was the first person she'd ever kissed. "Sorry, again," she said, cursing how clumsy the words sounded in her mouth. She turned to walk away, cheeks alight with fiery heat, but was stopped by Jackson grabbing her sleeve.
"Hold on," he said. "You've gotta tell me your name."
A laugh bubbled up from between her lips. It seemed like the kiss was only just catching up with her. "I'm Annabeth."
"Percy." He offered his hand in mock greeting and Annabeth shook it with a smile.
Suddenly, a notification sounded, and Percy took his phone out, checking the screen. He laughs, cocking a brow. "Alright, then." He hands me his phone. "Film for me?"
Annabeth took his phone, rolling her eyes. The dare was Perform a song for her. Annabeth held up the phone so Percy was in the shot, stifling a laugh. "Don't embarrass yourself."
Percy winked, blowing the camera a kiss. "I won't." He stepped up onto the table, just like Piper and Jason had. He clapped his hands, drawing the attention of the rest of the diner. Then he pointed at Annabeth, all show-business. "Tell me the first song that pops into your head," he told her.
Annabeth folded her arms. "Suffragette City," she replied—from the Ziggy Stardust record she'd been listening to earlier.
Percy nodded. "I know the one." Not a second later, he plunged in and started singing. And, God, his voice was something awful. Still, he somehow retained his charm and his smile was bright, never forced. He stumbled through the song, utterly butchering Bowie's masterpiece. At some point, the whole diner started clapping along, laughing and whooping at Percy's antics.
As Percy neared the end of the song, he leapt down from the table and walked confidently up to the bar surface, leaning forward to pluck a beautiful, pastel yellow flower from a vase—a chrysanthemum. He finished the song, only just maintaining his dignity, and knelt before Annabeth. "Thank you," he smiled, offering her the flower. His eyes were deeply green in the warm light and full of humour.
Annabeth took the yellow chrysanthemum, pulse stuttering when his calloused fingers brushed hers. He pressed a feather-light kiss to her cheek as he stood up again, lips curving in a smile.
Heat rose to Annabeth's face, but she didn't let it show. Rolling her eyes, she smirked up at Percy. "Well, aren't you a gentleman?"
He laughed in response. "Guess my mom raised me right after all." He opened his mouth to say something more but was interrupted by the sound of two notifications sounding in quick succession. Annabeth pulled out her phone to see a new dare—it simply said Go with him. Nothing else.
Percy was checking his phone too, and turned it around to show the screen to Annabeth. He'd gotten a dare too—Take her to the city. Running a hand through his messy hair, he smiled self-consciously. "So, what's the verdict?"
Annabeth glanced down at her dare again, wondering what the hell she was getting herself into. "Swear you're not an axe murderer?"
Percy slid his phone back into his pocket, offering Annabeth a hand. "I swear I'm not an axe murderer," he said, all solemnity. "I'll keep you safe. I promise."
Annabeth took his hand after a moment of hesitation. He pulled Annabeth to her feet, bringing her close to his chest. "Well, I guess we'd better get going."
Percy's smile was infectious, all mischief. "I guess we should."
Percy led Annabeth outside by her sleeve, eyes alight with excitement. They walked up to Percy's tatty, silver motorbike. There were two helmets sitting on the seat, rather than one—probably the work of a Watcher.
Straddling the seat, Percy slid on his helmet. Annabeth went to get on, then hesitated. "Is this thing safe?"
Percy laughed. "Safe as life. C'mon, don't be afraid." He passed her a helmet and patted the seat behind him. "Just hold onto me. I won't let you fall."
"God. Okay." Annabeth got onto the bike, exhaling a sharp breath to release her nerves. Carefully, she slotted her arms around his waist. He was warm and smelled slightly of chlorine. Annabeth wondered if he was a swimmer.
Percy glanced back, grinning. "Ready? You might want to hold on a little tighter than that." Without warning, he stepped onto the accelerator.
Annabeth screamed as they lurched forward. Tightening her arms around him, she buried her face into his spine, unwilling to even look up. "We're gonna fucking die, aren't we?" she muttered.
They flew towards the main city, heading towards the Manhattan bridge. It didn't take long for Annabeth to get over her fear. Soon enough, a feeling of elation started to bubble through her veins. The break-neck speed, the wind whistling in her ears and Percy's solid reassuring warmth was utter sensory overload of the best kind. As they reached the bridge, Annabeth raised her arms up and whooped.
The pair were bathed in rich, golden light from the car's headlights around them. Annabeth slipped her arms around Percy again and had the stupid, fleeting thought that she never wanted to let go.
Twenty minutes later, they screeched to a stop outside the department store they'd been instructed to head to. Annabeth stumbled off the bike. She felt a little lightheaded, but mostly in a good way. "That was insane."
Percy laughed, nodding in agreement. "Do you want to hear a secret?"
"A secret? Sure."
He leaned in close, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "I only learnt how to ride that thing today."
"What?"
Luckily, both their phones pinged, signalling the arrival of a new dare, before Annabeth could even begin to tear into him. Shooting Percy a dirty look, Annabeth pulled her phone out. The dare was to Try on this dress, followed by an image of a gorgeous, skin-tight grey dress. There was a timer set to ten minutes in the corner. The chat was going crazy as more and more Watchers joined Annabeth's feed.
Percy had received the same dare, except he had to try on a suit. They both pressed Accept Dare. Percy offered Annabeth his hand. "Shall we?"
Annabeth smiled. "Why not?" she said, accepting his outstretched palm. His hand was a mess of callouses but still felt like a spark of warmth against her numb fingers. Together, they ran towards the store's open doors.
Once inside the store, Percy dragged Annabeth towards the elevator. "This way!"
As they weaved in and out of clothes racks, Annabeth narrowly avoided knocking into several unwitting shoppers. "Sorry!" she yelled, wincing.
"It doesn't matter. We don't have much time!"
They made it to the elevator, skidding to a stop in front of the closed bronze doors. Percy jabbed the UP button a ridiculous number of times, mumbling, "Come on, come on." Thankfully, the elevator didn't take long. A few moments later, the doors slid open. Annabeth stepped quickly inside, followed by Percy. "Top floor," he said, and Annabeth pressed the corresponding button. The doors closed with a satisfying clunk.
The journey up was a nerve-racking one. Annabeth fidgeted with her sleeve, adrenaline pumping through her but without an outlet. As though he could sense her anxiety, Percy brushed his hand against hers. "We can do this."
Once they hit the top floor, Annabeth suggested they split up. "We'll find the clothes faster that way."
Percy nodded. "Meet at the changing rooms, yeah?" He headed off into the opposite direction, leaving Annabeth alone.
Annabeth scoured the racks, eyes jumping from one expensive, sequinned monstrosity to the next. No luck. She walked up to a store clerk, who fixed her with a blinding smile. "How can I help you, miss?" Annabeth showed him the photo of the dress, and he nodded. "I believe I know where to find that one." He guided her to the other side of the floor, where the prices rose higher and higher. Annabeth's breath snagged in her throat whenever she caught a glimpse of a price tag.
Finally, the clerk found her the correct dress. "This it, miss?"
Annabeth nodded, albeit hesitantly. "Yes, thank you." The clerk got it down for her, folding the dress and placing it in her arms. It was soft, shimmery satin and stank of wealth. Annabeth was pretty sure she could buy half-carat diamond earrings with the money this thing cost.
Quickly, she hurried over to the changing rooms. The timer on her phone was ticking down; they had three minutes remaining. She bumped into Percy, who was carrying a gorgeous black suit. He offered her a lopsided grin, and they stepped into opposite changing rooms.
Annabeth drew the curtain shut and placed her phone down on the seat beside her. Some of the comments were becoming lewd. Annabeth turned away from the camera as the timer ticked lower and lower, pulling her clothes off. Fuck, fuck, fuck. It didn't matter—all they could see was her back, right?
She stepped carefully into the dress, afraid that the flimsy material might tear. It was the most beautiful thing she'd ever worn and fitted like a sleeve. As she adjusted the straps, Annabeth's gaze flickered to herself in the mirror. The dress was an understated, pearly grey, setting off her eyes. The neckline fell in a V-shape, dipping down to her sternum, and the dress was fucking backless. Annabeth didn't want to like it, but she did.
As she opened the curtain again, her phone dinged with a new notification: Dare Complete. $500 has been transferred to your account. Annabeth stared at it, caught in a haze of euphoria. God, she'd never had this much money.
Percy had already gotten changed, and he waited outside the changing rooms. His back was turned to her as he adjusted his cufflink awkwardly. "Hey," Annabeth said, to catch his attention.
Percy spun around, and his jaw dropped. "Wow," he managed, then laughed in disbelief. "You look great, Annabeth."
"You're not so bad yourself." His suit was gorgeously fitted, snug around his shoulders and arms, tapering perfectly down to his waist. The black, sleek material tapered perfectly down to his waist, matching his raven hair. His eyes caught Annabeth off guard. Their green colour was suddenly brighter, more emphasised. They seared Annabeth to her veins.
Annabeth noticed one of Percy's cufflinks still wasn't attached right so she stepped forward, reaching out. "Here, give me your arm."
He did. Annabeth fixed the cufflink, cheeks burning. Her heart threatened to hammer out her ribcage, it was beating so fast. She looked up, and Percy was still looking at her. Neither of them could look away.
Out of nowhere, their phones pinged. Another dare had arrived. They took their phones out, and both of their dares were the same. Leave the store. Another timer popped up—ten minutes. Annabeth clicked Accept.
"Time to go," Percy said.
She headed back to her changing room. Pulling open the curtain, she blanched. Her clothes were gone. "Percy?" she called, uncertain. "Do you have your clothes?" She ran back out, only to find Percy just as confused as she was.
"I don't have mine either," he said. He groaned, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Fucking Watchers. I'm not stealing this suit."
Annabeth was silent for a moment, thoughts whirring like clockwork. Finally, she said, "Take it off."
"What?"
"Take it off, I'm serious. If we're caught, we'll get in less trouble for public indecency than for theft."
Percy cocked a brow. "Sure this isn't just a ploy to get me naked?"
Annabeth huffed. "Do what you want. I'm not getting fucking arrested." Steeling herself, she stepped out of the dress. She tried not to think about the fact she was only in her bra and underwear. Look on the bright side, she told herself: at least she'd worn a matching pair today.
Eventually, Percy gave in. He started to strip out of his suit. He was avoiding looking at Annabeth, and a rose-colour blush tinted the tips of his ears. "You'll be the death of me," he mumbled.
Annabeth ignored him. "Come on," she said. She checked her phone. "We only have seven minutes to get out the store." Finally, the suit was off. Annabeth tried not to let her eyes wander—Percy was a landscape of bronze skin and the occasional flourishing bruise, matching in colour to the one on his face. For the first time, she noticed the small, silver cross necklace resting just below the notch of his neck. It glinted in the artificial light. Annabeth wondered if Percy was religious. Face alight with heat, Annabeth grabbed his wrist. "Let's go," she said, and they hurried towards the elevator.
When it reached the bottom floor, they burst out of it, laughing deliriously with a healthy amount of embarrassment. Hands linked, they sprinted through the store, swerving to avoid the labyrinthine clothes racks. Angry yells followed them from staff and offended customers alike, but Annabeth didn't care. Something about the whole incident was some of the most fun she'd ever had in her life—or maybe the elation just came from holding Percy's hand.
"Hey! Stop!" A security guard had spotted them and was taking chase from across the store. As he gained ground, Percy shoved into a few racks of clothes, knocking them into his path. Annabeth laughed in elation, sparing a glance behind her at the disgruntled security guard who was desperately trying to get up from underneath a pile of clothes.
The door was in sight. Hands still linked, they crashed through the doors. A wave of freezing night air immediately washed over them, a shock of cold on Annabeth's bare skin. Percy dragged her around the corner to avoid the security guards that were no doubt still after them, pulling her into the shadows.
Laughing in relief, Annabeth rested her forehead on Percy's shoulder, overcome with adrenaline and fear and pounding excitement. "God, that was insane. Did you see his face?" She kissed his cheek, caught up in the moment. Percy nodded, still smiling back at her. He shook his head, seemingly at a loss for words.
In Annabeth's hand, her phone dinged with a new notification. Dare Complete flashed on her phone screen, followed by another notification: £245 has been added to your account. Percy held up his own phone, showing the same reward on his. He leant back against the wall, laying his head back on the concrete. Breathing still heavy, he closed his eyes. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back and out of his face. He let out a sudden laugh, then said, "I can't fucking believe we just did that."
Annabeth tangled their fingers a little tighter together, exhaling a puff of pale air. "Neither can I."
They headed back to Percy's bike, shivering. Percy's lips were beginning to turn blue in the winter air, and Annabeth's hands were white as paper. When Annabeth saw the bike, however, she stopped in her tracks. "Is that…?" Draped over the bike's seat was Percy's suit and Annabeth's dress, folded up neatly. Annabeth ran to the bike and touched the dress in reverence. She shook her head, withdrawing. "We can't wear them if they're stolen."
Percy picked up his suit. A sheet of paper fell out—a receipt, for both outfits. A smile stretched across his face, and he raised a brow. "We need clothes, don't we?"
"Who do you think bought them?" Annabeth asked.
Percy shrugged. "Dunno. Watchers, I guess. I mean, they seem to like us together." He raised his phone, emphasising the high number of Watchers that ticked up steadily in the corner. The chat was going crazy as more and more support poured in.
Annabeth changed quickly, slipping into the dress. It fit snugly but didn't offer much protection from the cold—after all, it was open at the back. Not exactly a warm outfit. She shivered again, wishing she had a sweater.
Percy's gaze tracked her, flickering down to the goosebumps on her arms. He held up the suit jacket, having not put it on yet. "Hey, you wanna wear this?"
Annabeth hesitated. She wanted it so badly, but… "Won't you be cold?"
Percy grinned. "Nah, I'm good. Just take it."
Annabeth obliged. She put it on, and a heavy, relieved sigh slipped out of her. Immediately, warmth was beginning to seep back into her skin. "Thanks, Percy."
Still, the jacket was way too big for her. The jacket's sleeves flopped past her hands, swallowing her up. Percy stifled a laugh, stepping forward. He helped her roll them up, ignoring her protests. "There," he said with a smile. "Much better."
Annabeth shot a wry glance at him, pulling the jacket tighter around herself for warmth. "Yeah, yeah. You must think you're a real charmer."
Percy smirked. "Oh, trust me. I am." He slid an arm over Annabeth, tugging her to him. Gratefully, she leaned into his warmth. Thank God, the chattering of her teeth was finally beginning to subside.
They were silent for a few moments, watching the roaring road. Cars sped by so quickly they were nothing but a blur of light in the dark, leaving a rush of hot air in their wake. Suddenly, Percy spoke up again. "Annabeth?"
"Yeah?"
"What would you think of maybe, uh…" He shifted, uncertain. "Of partnering up? Until the final? It seems like the Watchers like us together." He smiled, teeth bright in the dark. "And, you know, you make this shit a lot more fun."
Annabeth didn't even hesitate. "Sure, let's do it," she replied.
Percy mouthed Yes, pumping his fist. Laughing, he grabbed Annabeth's hand again and spun her around, causing her to stumble. "This is gonna be so fucking fun."
Annabeth righted herself, rolling her eyes. "Well, someone's got to show me the ropes."
"Oh, you don't need my help. Let's be honest, I'm the one leeching off you."
Just then, their phones dinged—another dare. Annabeth slid hers out, opening it. The dare was Go to this address, followed by directions. Annabeth gaped at it. "Is that a fucking tattoo parlour?"
Percy's eyes glinted. Smiling, he gestured to the bike. "Ladies first."
Annabeth sighed heavily, but clambered onto the bike. Percy got on after her, and she quickly latched her arms around his middle. "Slower this time, yeah?"
Percy winked. "Can't promise anything." With that, he stepped down on the accelerator and they sped off into the darkness.
The tattoo parlour was only five minutes away, so it didn't take long before Annabeth and Percy were pulling up outside. Annabeth stepped off the motorbike, carding her fingers through her helmet hair. Percy slid off his helmet too and hung it on one of the bike handles.
Up ahead, the tattoo parlour glowed faintly crimson in the darkness. A neon sign hanging in the window read Open, and the faint murmur of voices could be heard inside. Percy offered Annabeth his elbow like a gentleman. "Shall we?"
Annabeth smiled, taking it.
They pushed through the glass doors, chatting to each other. Immediately a rush of warmth greeted them. Inside the parlour, dozens of piercing chairs lined the walls. An old bar surface was covered in photos of past customers sporting fresh ink on their arms, their necks, their backs. Salt lamps were arrayed on wooden shelves adorning the walls, along with other decorations.
Suddenly, Annabeth's phone dinged. Annabeth didn't want to see what it was, but she checked it anyway. Upon seeing it, she groaned. "Fuck," she said, with more than a little feeling. A new dare: Let him choose your tattoo. She showed the screen to Percy, who grinned. Mischief danced in his eyes.
One of the staff members walked up to them, putting her hair back in a bun. She was covered in piercings—her septum, her brow, her ears. There was even a metal rod in her lower lip. "How can I help you guys?" she asked. When she spoke, the stud in her tongue glinted silver.
Percy stepped forward. "I'm choosing her a tattoo. Can it be a surprise?"
The girl laughed. "Sure. Come sit over here, love." She gestured for Annabeth to go sit in one of the tattoo chairs. "Get comfortable. I'll be right back. Just gotta talk designs with your boyfriend." She walked off to where Percy sat at the bar surface. He was drawing something on a sketch pad, but Annabeth couldn't see what. A moment later, he showed the design to the girl. She nodded and took the sketchpad, then disappeared off into the staff room.
Percy came over to where Annabeth was lying. He sat down in the chair beside her, resting his chin on his fist. "So, Beth. How're you feeling about this?"
Annabeth laughed, dry as sandpaper. "I'm fucking scared. You better not have picked anything rude."
"Don't worry. I think you're gonna like it." Percy fiddled with his shirt sleeve, rolling and unrolling it. The crisp, pale cotton was a perfect juxtaposition against his bronze skin. He looked up at her again, eyes so green in the light that it was almost jarring. "Where are you going to get it?"
"What, the tattoo?"
"Yeah."
Annabeth hummed, considering. "I don't know. Where do you think is best?" Percy tilted his head, grinning, and Annabeth could tell he was about to say something crude. "Oh, shut up."
"Sorry, sorry." He started to bounce his knee, a constant force of motion. "Maybe your back? You know, just on your shoulder blade."
Annabeth leant back, staring at the ceiling. "I guess it'd at least be hidden, then." She turned her head in Percy's direction. "Have you got any tattoos?"
Percy nodded, leaning forward against the recliner. "Yeah, one. It's on my collarbone."
"Really? What is it?"
"Uh..." He unbuttoned the top buttons of his shirt in order to stretch the fabric so he could show his shoulder. Sitting just above his collarbone were the words be good tomorrow. They were written in careful, black sans serif.
Without even meaning to, Annabeth reached out to trace the letters. "What's the story behind it?"
Percy scrubbed a hand through his hair. His eyes wouldn't meet Annabeth's. "Well, I had a friend who I'd drink with a lot of the time. We both had a lot of shit going on at home, so going out and being stupid was kind of a coping mechanism we shared. Every time we went out and got pissed, we'd just laugh and say something like It's fine, we'll be good tomorrow. Anyway, she died a few months ago. I wanted something permanent to remember her by."
Annabeth's hand fell away from the tattoo. She wanted to stop Percy hurting any way she could, but what happened in his head wasn't under her jurisdiction. "I'm sorry you lost her. It's beautiful, though."
Percy half-smiled. "Thanks."
The girl was coming back over, holding a box full of equipment. She set it down and took out its contents—her tattoo guns and inks. She sat down beside Annabeth, pulling on a pair of latex gloves. "So, blondie. Where do you want it?"
Annabeth swallowed. "Uh—my back. My shoulder blade."
"Alright, turn over. This should only take twenty minutes."
She did, tugging down one sleeve of her dress to expose her shoulder blade. The tattoo artist wiped down her skin with antiseptic, then went in with a pen. A few minutes later, when she seemed happy with it, she asked Percy his opinion.
"Yeah. Looks good."
"Okay. You ready for us to get started?" She picked up a tattoo gun, screwing a bottle of ink into its holder.
Annabeth nodded, but she couldn't relax. When the gun started whirring, she screwed her eyes tight. She knew the fear was irrational but she was still afraid.
Percy took her hand, holding it tight. He was filming the dare with his other hand so their Watchers could see. "Stay calm. It'll hurt more if you're tense, yeah?"
A moment later, the needle was pressing into her skin. "Fuck, fuck…" Annabeth exhaled, holding tighter onto Percy's hand. The sensation wasn't too bad, if she was completely honest. It hurt, yeah, but was more of a dull pain than the sharp kind that she'd been expecting. It only took a minute longer before the pain was completely tolerable.
"So," the girl said, as she worked. "Why'd you let him pick out your tattoo?"
Annabeth sighed. "For a dare. Hopefully he hasn't fucked me over."
The girl laughed in reply. "I wouldn't worry. Your boyfriend's a pretty good artist." Annabeth didn't bother correcting her, only smiled shyly into the chair's headrest.
Half an hour later, the whirring gun stopped. Annabeth's shoulder ached, but it was nothing she couldn't handle. "Are we done?" Annabeth asked.
"Yep. Just let me clean it up, then you can take a look." Annabeth waited while she carefully wiped down her shoulder, ensuring that the wound was completely clean. "Alright. You wanna see?"
Annabeth sat up carefully, holding up her dress. The girl guided her to a mirror hanging on the wall. When Annabeth saw it, the breath escaped from her lungs. "God, it's beautiful."
The tattoo artist had done a monochrome flower. It had half-wilting leaves and strange, abstract shading. Percy came over to look. "It's a chrysanthemum," he said.
Annabeth nodded slowly. "Like the flower you gave me in the diner."
Percy laughed. "Yeah. I wondered if you'd notice."
Annabeth turned around, readjusting her dress. "Thank you," she said, so softly that the words could barely be heard. "I didn't know you could draw like this."
He shrugged. "She cleaned it up. I only sketched out the concept."
Annabeth pushed him, playful, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Quit being so modest!" Just then, her phone screen lit up in Percy's hand. He passed it to her. $1000 has been transferred to your account.
"Fucking hell," Annabeth breathed. She shook her head in disbelief and slipped her phone back into her pocket.
They left the tattoo parlour, Annabeth wearing Percy's suit jacket again to defend against the cold. The night was strangely silent now; fewer cars roamed the streets. New York did sleep, albeit restlessly—the city would always toss and turn in its slumber.
Annabeth's phone rang in her pocket. She picked it up. "Hey, Jason."
"Beth! You alright?"
Annabeth could hear loud, thumping house music playing wherever he was. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"
"We've been watching your Nerve feed! Do you realise you're fucking famous?"
Annabeth leant into Percy, changing her phone to the other ear. "I think that's an exaggeration."
"Well, whatever you're doing, keep doing it. People love you and that guy—Jackson. You two together are literally like fourth place in the whole city."
Annabeth's heart skipped a beat. "Wait, seriously?"
"Yeah. Piper's pissed off—you've been playing Nerve for like two hours and you're doing way better than her." Jason laughed. "Don't worry, she still loves you. Anyway, you've got to head over here!"
"What? Over where?"
"The blacklight party, of course. Everyone's here, practically all of New York. I'll send you the address. Anyway, gotta go! McLean's about to do more crazy shit. Love ya!" He hung up. Annabeth drew the phone away from her ear, a little bewildered.
"Who was that?" Percy asked.
"My friend. He's watching Nerve. Asked us to head over to the party they're at."
Percy had taken out his phone to check his Nerve feed. At that, though, he looked up. "Oh, that huge blacklight party? Yeah, a couple of people I know are there." At that, both their phones buzzed.
Annabeth checked hers—a new dare had come in. Go to the blacklight party.
Percy held up his own phone, revealing that his showed the same message. He half-smiled. "Guess we're going."
Together, they headed over to where they'd left Percy's motorbike. As they approached the curb, however, Annabeth slowed to a halt in dawning realisation. "It's gone."
Percy caught up with her, head swivelling as he scanned the road for any sign of the bike. "Fuck," he said, with emphasis.
"How are we going to make it there now?" Annabeth checked her phone—they only had fifteen minutes to get there or they'd fail the dare.
Percy's eyes were fixed on something across the road. He broke into a run. "C'mon," he called over his shoulder.
Annabeth jogged to catch up, a question already on her lips. "What are you doing?"
Percy had stopped in front of a beat-up Volkswagen, brows furrowed. "Looks like an old enough model," he mumbled, then out of nowhere put his foot through the car window. The glass crumpled inward, smashing into a dozen pieces. Luckily, the car alarm didn't go off. He then reached through the window and opened the door from the inside. He stepped in, leaning over the steering column cover. He took off the access panel, hands quick and certain. Soon, he was fiddling with the many coloured wires.
"This is so fucking illegal," Annabeth mumbled, arms crossed. Anxiety was a hot needle in her stomach.
"It's fine, we'll return it." It only took a few seconds before Percy got the engine started. He whooped, gesturing for Annabeth to get in. "Let's go, let's go!"
Annabeth glanced around, worried that someone might've been watching. Still, she got in the passenger seat. "How many goddamn crimes are we gonna commit today?"
Percy gave her a sharp, serpentine smile. "Well, I did steal that motorbike."
Annabeth's mouth dropped open in realisation. "What the fuck?" She groaned, dropping her head into her hands. "So that was what you meant when you said you'd only learnt to drive it earlier."
Pulling his seatbelt on, he laughed. "For a dare."
Annabeth swatted him. "Jackson! What if the police saw me on it too?!"
"Quit worrying and relax. I'm actually beginning to enjoy all this grand theft auto." With that, he flashed Annabeth another crooked smile and stepped on the accelerator, revving off into the city's night air.
A few minutes into the drive, Annabeth reached forward to put the radio on. She frowned as she tried to turn the station from classical to something a little more modern, but the radio seemed stuck on that station. "Great. Now we're stuck listening to fucking Mozart."
"This is Schubert, actually," Percy replied. Annabeth raised a brow at that, and Percy leapt to his own defence. "What? My mom used to like classical music."
"Used to?" Annabeth asked, caution creeping into her tone.
Percy shifted. "Oh, yeah. She died a couple years back."
"God."
"Yeah, whatever. Just don't give me that I'm sorry for your loss crap."
Annabeth put her feet onto the dashboard, picking at her nails. She was quiet for a moment before she spoke. "No, I get it. My dad died last January."
Percy's eyes flickered to hers, then back to the road. "Well, that's shit."
Annabeth laughed dryly. "Guess we're both sob stories, huh?"
"Oh, we're not special. Didn't you hear? Our whole generation's fucked."
Annabeth laughed for real that time, nudging into Percy. Her gaze snagged on his face, on his purple black eye. She thought about how he'd always been a little beat-up in school. How she'd always assumed it was because he got in fights, because he didn't care about whose fist he ran into. "Hey, Percy?"
"Yeah?"
"How'd you get that black eye?"
Percy stiffened. She watched his knuckles go white on the steering wheel, and his jaw ticked slightly. He shook his head. She didn't anticipate the answer that followed. "My stepdad drinks," he said.
A quiet Oh fell out of Annabeth's mouth. She swallowed, anger settling like concrete into her body. "Does he…do that a lot?"
Percy just nodded; it was a hesitant, stuttering thing. Annabeth instantly wished she hadn't pushed. She wondered if that was why he was playing Nerve—as a means of escape. A heartbeat later, she reached out, resting her hand on Percy's arm. She chose her words carefully. "I know you're strong. Hell, you're one of the strongest people I know. But, Percy...that doesn't mean you have to endure it."
Percy was silent, eyes on the road ahead. He let out a breath. Quietly, he said, "I do know. I only stay 'cause of my sister."
Annabeth searched her memory, then something clicked—she barely recalled the mention of an Estelle back when she'd known him in school. "I want to help," she said carefully. "He doesn't get to hurt you like that."
Percy barked out a laugh. "I don't take it lying down."
And, God, somehow that was worse. Annabeth reached for his hand on the stick shift and brushed her thumb over his knuckle, offering comfort in the only way she knew how. "Is he why you're playing? So you and Estelle can get out?"
"Among other things," he replied, voice a little harder than usual. Annabeth nodded slightly, taking her hand away. Making him upset wasn't what she was trying to do. She exhaled, slowing her racing heart.
They both fell silent, listening to the beautiful classical music drifting from the radio's speakers. Percy's gaze caught on Annabeth's, and she couldn't stop herself from offering him a hesitant smile. It took him a moment to return it, but once he did, the warmth was back in his eyes.
This AU is loosely based off the movie Nerve, though you definitely don't need to have watched it. The second, final part will be up tomorrow. If you've read Cigarette Daydreams, look out for another update as one's coming soon ;) hope you're all staying safe and thanks for reading xx
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