AN: So, I got no excuse y'all. I'm sorry. Just, didn't upload, didn't write. That's on me. I'll try to be more consistent over the next coming weeks. Also, I know some of y'all are gonna hate the slow burn type nature that this story has taken so far, but I promise it will speed up eventually. I just really wanted to establish Percy as his own character and flesh him out as much as I could. Anyway, here you go!

Percy had slowly realized the pattern. It had taken him about a month, but he'd realized it. Every Wednesday afternoon, right at three o'clock, without fail, the blonde would walk through that door. She'd order the same exact drink. She'd have a few teasing words, accompanied by that cute smirk, and then she'd sit with her laptop, sipping her drink and working on… something. Percy actually didn't know what. He couldn't imagine what she could be working on. It was summer. Surely not… extra homework.

Oh no. She's a nerd isn't she. Crap, Perce, and here you thought she was going to like you. But when she realizes how dumb you are, she won't like you. If she's smart enough, or obsessed with school enough, to be doing school in the middle of summer… you've got no chance.

Percy, in every single sense of the word, was a jock. His closet was full of sports shirts and jerseys. Heck, he didn't know if even owned a non-sports related shirt. If he did, he never wore it and probably forgot about it completely. Right now even, laying on his bed, he was dressed in a Toronto Raptors "We The North" t-shirt. He wasn't even a Raptors fan. It was sports related and that was all that mattered.

He breathed basketball. No, that was an understatement. It was more like, when he was born, the medicine the doctors gave his mom somehow changed into basketball fluids when he was feeding. He needed basketball. It lived in his veins. It gave him life. He was obsessed. Percy's hands twitched and clenched, anticipating the feel of leather and his ears wiggled a bit, hoping for the sound of ball on pavement, the swish of the net, the squeaking of sneakers in a gym.

But even with his love for basketball, he couldn't get her out of his head. He didn't know why. He didn't know what made her different from all the girls who came into the café. Maybe it was the way she held eye-contact. Maybe it was her confidence. Maybe it was the fact that she subtly made herself look good. Maybe it was the consistency. The never complaining about the drink. He didn't know, but he knew he didn't want to mess it up. Well, he knew he had messed it up so far. He hadn't said anything and he knew girls wanted guys taking the first action. Maybe she thought he wasn't worth it. But why'd she keep coming in then? To taunt him? To let him know that she knew she was out of his league? Percy's breath caught and his eyes snapped open, now unable to sleep.

Eyes staring unblinking at the alarm clock, Percy's mouth twitched. Almost time. The teen's green eyes were changed to a completely different shade in the red light, a unique mix of red and sea-green, resembling something close to rich soil. When the clock switched from 1:59 AM to 2:00 AM, Percy's entire face lit up in a grin that could have powered Manhattan on its own. With a quick kip-up from his bed, Percy's feet hit the floor.

Percy's hands moved at a speed most humans will never achieve in their lifetime. In fact, the only time hands have ever moved at this speed are in two scenarios. One, when a sibling is trying to snatch a toy, piece of clothing, or scrap of food from another sibling or two, when someone is doing adult things with his or her boyfriend and the said boyfriend is so close to… well, if you're an adult, you know. But for the sake of those innocent reading this fic, that act shall not be mentioned in detail. Regardless, Percy's hands moved fast to tie his shoes, throw on a hoodie, and grab his most treasured possession: a dark blue basketball, weathered and worn from years of loving use and hard concrete.

Was it two in the morning? Yes. Yes it was.

Did Percy intend on going to the local park and shooting hoops? Yes, yes he did.

Was it probably dumb? Yes, yes it was.

Did it help soothe his anxiety and relax him? Yes, yes it did.

Was he doing this in order to stop his mind racing about the beautiful blonde who visited his café? He refused to comment.

Percy's mind was a racetrack of overthinking. Every action he took, every thought he had, he second guessed himself and imagined what he could do better. The thoughts would race and race, each jockeying for position to dominate Percy's anxiety until they all would crash like the Daytona 500 and Percy was scared out of his mind whenever that happened. Last time the mental race of anxiety had happened, Percy had found himself standing on the ledge of his apartment complex. His mom had talked him down. The trigger for that? He hadn't made a customer's drink perfectly earlier in the day.

He couldn't control it. He couldn't stop it. All he could was not think of it. That's where basketball came in. On the court, he was different. When he had a ball in his hand, a rim in front of him, and his instincts taking over, Percy's anxiety and thoughts went out the window. He couldn't explain it. He tried many times to explain it to Frank with varying degrees of success. All he knew was that he would feel the leather, hear the swoosh, and smell the sweat coming off him and he would be at peace.

That's why he found himself here. Half-Blood Heights. The park near his home, a park that had apparently brought peace to the city decades ago, before he was born. Heck, before his mom was born. He passed the statue of the man who founded the park, Chiron Brunner. Chiron had helped to calm tensions during the height of the Civil Rights Movement. Half-Blood Heights was named after him. Half-blood for his nickname as a child and Heights for what he achieved during his life.

Percy smiled and slid his hand across the wheel of the bronze wheelchair, as he always did when he entered the park. Then his eyes locked on his love. The most beautiful sight in the world. A solo basketball hoop lit by the one lamp in the entire park of Half-Blood Heights. It was beautiful. The white net, the orange rim, the clear glass backboard. Percy's hands twitched with excitement and he jogged over to the court. Soon the air was filled with the sound of ball on pavement.

Dribble right. Cross left. Spin. Stop. Pivot. Jab step. Fadeaway! The swish of the ball through the net sounded, seeming to echo in the private and quiet night. Percy grabbed the ball quickly and reset on the left wing of the three point line. Left hand drive. Kyrie hesitation. Up and under. The ball spun against the backboard and into the net again. And on and on it went, Percy's mind emptying of all thoughts except basketball… well… occasionally, the thought of the blonde from his café entered his mind, but it was quickly erased by a step-back mid range or a high flying tomhawk dunk.

An hour later, Percy froze as he heard a loud "HEY!" and the ball squirted from his hands, rolling to the feet of a police officer.

Tall, broad shouldered, fingers already on his baton, the officer squinted at Percy, "I thought I told you last time to not come out here and shoot at this ungodly hour."

Percy blinked slowly, then raised his eyebrow, "Oh shut it, Beckendorf. We both know you won't arrest me."

Charles Beckendorf laughed and walked over to dap up Percy. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know me too well, Jackson. How goes basketball?"

Percy shrugged, "It goes. Missing more shots than I'd like."

Beckendorf rolled his eyes, "Dude, I've known you for the past two years. One time you shot 19/20 in a game and still said that. Seriously, how is it?"

Percy shook his head, "Haven't really been paying attention."

Beckendorf's face changed to a comforting small smile, "Ah. One of those nights?"

Percy nodded slowly, not saying anything. His eyes now seemed incredibly focused on his basketball shoes and the ground under them.

Beckendorf placed a hand on Percy's shoulders, "Hey, Jackson. I don't know what's got you going tonight, but I do know what helps me."

Percy tilted his head, a questioning eyebrow raised at Beckendorf.

The officer picked up the ball. "Beating delinquets who insist on playing basketball at 3am at their own game."

Percy's mouth twitched into a smile and he snatched the ball from his former teammate. "You're on…" Percy's habit of sass took over, "Charlie."

Beckendorf's eyes narrowed, reminding Percy exactly why he made a good officer, "Oh you're so dead now, Jackson."

AN: Next chapter might be an Annabeth POV actually. Idk, haven't decided yet. Lmk what you think of me possibly writing that side. Anyway! Hope you enjoyed. Leave a review, follow, favorite, all that jazz. Catch y'all next week. Hopefully. If I stay motivated. Heh. *innocence*