The tennis courts were covered up with some tent-like structure, into which he was descending. He looked over his shoulder, flipped his sandy hair styled with copious amounts of gel, and shot her a self-satisfied grin as Annabeth gave him a small wave.

"Love you, have fun!" she called, drawing out the final word. After he disappeared from view, she let out a breath. A tennis formal. That had to be a new one. However, spending time with Bennett—the loaded son of the Dean of Harvard University—was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"Excuse me," said a voice behind her. Annabeth straightened, fixed a pleasant smile on her face, before turning in her seat. The bobby pins in her updo tugged on her roots, but she kept her face a porcelain mask. An elderly lady with grey curls stuffed under a garden hat looked back at her. "I'm Eunice. I'm a longtime friend of Bennett's."

"Oh, it's great to meet you," Annabeth said. Friendly, but just short of gushing. "I'm Jo. How long have you known him?"

"His father was my close friend for a while."

"Wow, that's so interesting." Every word that left Annabeth's mouth was premeditated, but she could read between the lines. If Bennett's father was faithful in his marriage, then Annabeth was an honest woman who earned her money. She picked up her wine and pretended to take a sip, letting the conversation dwindle away.

"So, a girl like you, you could get any man you wanted. Tell me about yourself, how'd you end up with Bennett?" Eunice sat in the chair beside her and leaned in.

Luckily, Annabeth had rehearsed her lines in the mirror last week. "My family owns a clothing processing line, and Bennett came to a party we were throwing at our lake house. The moment I saw him, I knew. He's perfect for me."

Eunice gushes. "That is so romantic, dear."

"What can I say? He's my forever."

"He's not bad looking, either," Eunice said suggestively.

"That's true." Annabeth knew Bennett was in his late twenties, but Eunice was in her seventies? Or eighties? Either way, Annabeth didn't care. At her age, Eunice could do whatever she wanted.

"Oh, don't worry about me dear, I'm, well, occupied already. My new close friend is right there," said Eunice, eyes suggestive and cheeks wine-pink. Eunice pointed to a group of people on the other side of the grass. Annabeth followed her line of vision until—oh. She'd been in this business for a while, but it physically pained Annabeth to keep her eyebrows from shooting into her hairline.

Eunice was pointing at a man who looked—well, young. Mid twenties, probably. It was the type of age gap that Annabeth thought only she was familiar with.

Annabeth was a master at reading people. In her business, it was almost a survival skill. And nothing about this pair made sense. In high class society, relationships like these were totally frowned upon. No family would let their son date an elderly widow, nor would your average rich son ever want to court a seventy-year-old.

Eunice's eyes were dreamy, enraptured by the mystery man. With good reason, Annabeth supposed. His smile seemed to physically brighten the people around him. He was captivating, a floaty expression on the faces of everyone around him.

Annabeth vowed to stay far, far away. That relationship was messed up and frankly, beyond her pay grade. She excused herself and walked to meet Bennett.

It was a shame, though. Glancing behind her shoulder, she noticed that whoever he was, he had an indisputable charm. A magnetic pull, proven by the growing group of people gravitating toward him. He was wasted in this rich world, where this pull was worth nothing when everyone already had too much money.

His arms waved animatedly as he finished his story, and he grinned widely as his crowd laughed. His eyes wandered through the rest of the park until they landed on her, traveled up her legs, met her eyes. They were green, shockingly so, and an undeniable shock went through her, and the joy slid off his face like a mask, leaving only surprise—

Annabeth whirled around and marched toward Bennett. Whoever this man was, he was trouble. And that was the last thing Annabeth needed.

Leaving the tennis formal, Annabeth was fifteen thousand bucks richer. The next evening, she went to a ball Eunice had mentioned at the next town over.

Even without a ticket or a date, it was too easy. She'd kicked a leg out her dress a little, and made her face just slightly suggestive. Security let her in without a scuffle.

This time, Annabeth wanted someone older. Bennett was objectively handsome, sure, but it was not worth the effort of pretending to find him interesting. The older they got, though, the more they talked, and the less they listened. Frankly, sitting and nodding for an entire evening was exactly what Annabeth needed.

Out of the corner of her eye, her hopes were dashed. A flash of sandy hair. A pearly white smile, too large to be natural. The same features she'd spent the past week looking at, pretending to find the personality behind them interesting. What was he doing here?

Cursing under her breath, Annabeth emerged from the shadows."Bennett, babe!" She plastered a ditsy beam onto her face. "I'm here to surprise you!"

"Jo? I haven't seen you all day," Bennett frowned.

Annabeth wrapped her arms around his chest, sliding two fingers to pull his wallet out of his pocket. She slipped the wallet into a band around her leg under her dress, and beckoned her other hand toward her outfit. "I've been getting ready to come here. Looking this good takes work. But I know you wouldn't understand because you never need any work, babe."

At once, Bennett's features straightened out. "Y'know what, you're absolutely right, babe. Let's go in." He wrapped an arm around her waist, and they walked past groups of rich people engaged in their own conversations. As they turned into the ballroom together, though, Annabeth saw in her peripheral vision two sea green eyes fixed on the nearly invisible bump under her dress, connected to a barely there smirk.

Suddenly, Annabeth felt goosebumps. Definitely not from Bennett's touch, either.

"And so I said, Coach Evans, I'm the best lacrosse player on the team. The Crimsons would've lost every year without me. I deserve to be captain," said Bennett. He tightened his arm around Annabeth's waist before beginning another story about his endless years at Harvard.

Typically, Annabeth pretended to listen flawlessly. But ever since she saw two green eyes at the beginning of the party, her focus had been shot.

Every minute, she caught a glimpse of those same eyes, unblinking. But when she turned to look, he vanished. Later on, a crooked smile directed toward no one in particular. Five minutes ago, that same figure silently slipped out with multiple diamond necklaces in his pockets.

Annabeth craned her neck. Through the window, there was a figure sitting on the bench outside. She nudged Bennett. "I'm going to the ladies' room."

Bennett nodded, eyes still fixated on his group of friends and mouth still moving. After she gave his hand a gentle squeeze and slid his gold ring off his finger, Annabeth slipped outside.

Walking toward the bench, Annabeth was filled with unreasonable purpose. She'd known the first day she saw him—whoever he was—that he had an undeniable pull; she just hadn't realized how strong it was.

Annabeth considered herself fairly logical; after all, it takes preparation to swindle the richest of the rich. But walking toward that bench, the absence of logic was the last thing on her mind. Even when the chilly air bit at her bare arms, she was undeterred, marching toward him until she was standing right in front of him with barely any memory of how she got there.

His eyebrows were raised, though his face indicated no surprise. "Shouldn't you be inside?" His voice was deeper than she anticipated. The shadows partly concealed his dark, ruffled hair, and dancing eyes. Face dimly lit, devastating cheekbones illuminated by the moon. An untied tie around his neck. He looked bemused. "Lots of good opportunities."

The lake glittered in the moonlight. Annabeth moved to sit next to him, then hesitated. He seemed so comfortable, languid, as if he had all the time in the world. As if he belonged. Yet, he wore an off brand suit. His shoes were just a bit too shiny to be real. And his eyes fixed on hers with a focus that she rarely saw among her regular associates.

Annabeth gingerly perched on the edge of the bench. He turned his upper body slightly to face her. "Struck out."

"Sorry," he said, not sounding particularly sorry. "At least you got the wallet. That was smooth. Where are you headed next?"

Annabeth hesitated before answering. She'd established a system, gotten this far by concealing her real thoughts at all times. Eventually, she shrugged. "I'm not sure. I might stay the night, take the train tomorrow morning."

"Take the noon one. Into Arendale."

"Why would I do that?" Annabeth had been planning to go to Arendale next anyway. But her cover was blown. This man knew about her plans, and that made him risky. Risks were dangerous and normally would be avoided, no exceptions.

For the first time, she looked directly back at his eyes. They were filled with mirth, betraying the solemn exterior created by his body language and voice. "Why not?" he challenged.

Annabeth pushed herself off the bench. "Look," she began. As she talked, his lips slowly curved into a crooked smile. "I don't think it's logical for us to associate. I've almost been caught before, and it's safer to work alone."

"No one said anything about working together."

"Either way," she insisted. "A duo leaving and entering town at the same time is too noticeable."

Slowly, he stood up. "There's nothing wrong with a little company. We'll talk on the train." He briefly reached toward her, as if to grab her hand or give her a hug in parting, but immediately thought better of it. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Annabeth traveled light. All her belongings fit in one small suitcase, which she stuck under her seat.

She pulled out her journal and tried to document the events of the past week, but her focus kept straying to the train entrance. Despite her better judgement, Annabeth was sitting in the 12pm train to Arendale. She gripped the pencil tighter in an effort to stifle the slight disappointment she felt every time someone unrecognizable walked through the door.

If it was all a big joke on his part—lure an unsuspecting Annabeth to a particular location then ghost her, how hilarious—Annabeth didn't care. It was her life, anyway, and her life didn't revolve around other people.

She scribbled these thoughts down on paper, gripping the pencil so hard her knuckles whitened. Then, the doors opened, and she looked up once again.

Finally, Annabeth saw who she'd been expecting. He caught her eye, and a crooked smile slowly emerged on his face. A backpack over one shoulder, he strode languorously over to her, as if he had all the time in the world.

He always seemed to blend in with his setting effortlessly, no matter where he was. He sat down next to her, placed his backpack in the third and last seat. "Good to see you here."

"Surprised?" Annabeth turned to look at him. Up close, in regular lighting, he had long, thick eyelashes and one dimple on his right cheek. He smiled back at her, eyes bright—a half-smile, half-smirk.

"No," he shrugged.

"Why not?"

"I knew you'd come. You looked lonely."
Annabeth scoffed. "No, I didn't. I didn't even know I was coming."

"Even if you didn't know, you always were going to come. We all make choices subconsciously that reflect what we really want."

"No, we don't." He watched her silently, so Annabeth continued. "Us, especially. I always know exactly what I'm going to do, and when I'm going to do it. It's not smart to go through life without a plan."

"You can't plan for everything, though."

"Watch me."

"You just said you didn't plan to be here."

Annabeth winced. "That was… a mistake. I guess I wanted to meet you, just once. I've never met anyone like us before."

"Neither have I."

"But this can't happen again. Like I said, it's just not smart."

"And you only ever make the smart choices in life?"

Annabeth steeled her eyes. "Yeah. You don't?"

He exhaled. "Look, all I'm saying is, would it be so bad?"

"I'm not lonely," Annabeth said.

"It's a two hour train ride. We can not be lonely for two hours."

"I just said, I'm not lonely," Annabeth insisted.

"Well, you're here. You chose to ride this train, with me." His stare, the color of sea glass on a beach, made Annabeth pause. "We have two hours."

Trusting him was a stupid decision; like Annabeth, he was untrustworthy. A master at reading people, a master at concealment, and a master at manipulation. He could be lying to her, and she wouldn't know until he disappeared off the face of the planet with half of her fortune.

But then, she looked back at him, and her mind didn't want to leave. She told her arms to push herself up, but her body stayed still. Walking away from him was an option in theory, but Annabeth's mind was all made up.

After the first noon train to Arendale, traveling together became an unspoken rule. At the beginning of the week, they would attend the same evening ball and separate, spending the time with their respective victims. When they were both ready to leave a few days later, one would slip out during a party, and they'd meet outside to choose their next location.

Annabeth found herself in a weird balance where although she didn't even know his real name, she'd also find herself anticipating the next time she'd see him while laying in bed, waiting to fall asleep. She had forgotten how lonely her lifestyle was until she suddenly had a partner. But, like all good things, this partnership was only temporary. Every minute she spent with him, every time he surprised an unfiltered, genuine laugh out of her, the future pain after they inevitably separated only expanded. How could she go back to life in isolation?

She never pondered the question for too long. Against her better judgement, she let the partnership continue. She was already in too deep to end it.

Today, he sat across from her as the countryside passed by in the window. The train moved so quickly, the colors outside blurred. Annabeth felt light and wonderful, and it was all distinctly dream-like.

He stuffed three fries in his mouth between each sentence, regaling her with the story of when he was approached by a rich couple for a threesome. By the end of the story, he'd moved on to the chicken nuggets on her side of the table.

"So did you say yes?" Annabeth asked.

"Yeah, and I got 100k by the end of the weekend. They were loaded." He grinned unabashedly, and Annabeth noticed a small dent in one of his teeth.

Instinctively, she smiled. "Cute," she said automatically.

"What?"

"Cute story." Annabeth felt her cheeks blushing. Looking at so many manufactured, pearly-white teeth for so long had driven her insane.

"Nothing about that story was cute! I bet you haven't done anything like that before." He was right, she hadn't, but he continued speaking. "You were totally talking about me. Do you think I'm cute?" He leaned forward unconsciously. If Annabeth made the deliberate choice to move closer as well, that's her business only. "The only other option is you're really into threesomes." Then she groaned, burying her face in her arms.

"If it helps," he resumed, "I think you're cute, too."

"Obviously," Annabeth rolled her eyes. She had to snap out of this, willed her cheeks to cool down—she was in control. "In our line of work, it's kind of the bare minimum. If you actually want to compliment me, you'll have to be more creative."

"The same goes for you, you know. Old ladies—and men, for that matter—have complimented my beauty countless times. You calling me cute has absolutely no effect on me."

"I like your eyes—" Annabeth began.

"Screw off, that's the first thing people say. I like the way you hold yourself. Everything you do seems so purposeful. It's fascinating. I want to catch you off guard so I can see what your real reactions would be."

You did, Annabeth did not let herself say. Instead, she said, "your smile—"

"That's weak. You're doing so badly right now. I like your eyes, too. But not for a boring reason," he added hastily as she opened her mouth to argue, "I like them because they're so expressive. I can always tell if you're happy or sad just by looking at them. Also, you're so smart. You're always the smartest person in the room, and these old men will never know it, but I do."

"Your hair—"

"Yeah, I have gorgeous flowing locks, I know. You don't do this often, huh?"

Annabeth sulked into her seat. "Usually an 'I love you' suffices."

"Men," he rolled his eyes. "So easy to please. Meanwhile, I'm telling women they're different and writing poetry about random ladies I barely know."

Annabeth raised an eyebrow. "Is that what you're doing right now?"

"No, of course not." He grasped Annabeth's hands and spoke in total sincerity, but his lips twitched. "You're different." She smacked his gorgeous flowing locks.

When they separated at their destination, Annabeth ignored the stinging in her eyes. Each week, it became increasingly harder to walk away; she wished, more than anything, that she could pull him in, hug him tight, never let go. But she only got him during fleeting moments at time-defying speeds, and never while they were on solid ground.

"So how'd you do?" he asked one week later, shifting on his feet.

"Not well," she said. I was distracted, she didn't say. By you.

"Me neither, my mind's been totally off recently," he groaned.

Annabeth raised her eyebrows, daring to hope. "Oh?"

"Yeah. C'mere, I'll tell you on the train." He beckoned her forward, but she stood her ground.

Generally, Annabeth liked her life. It was structured, and consistent; there were always rich people to swindle, after all. With him, everything was unplanned, flexible, unpredictable. He lacked all the qualities that made her successful.

But, despite every difference, he was the only person she'd ever met who was just like her. Exactly like her, in fact—a lone wolf hiding in the dark, watching and analyzing every move, traveling from pack to pack with no end in sight. One who never expected to see a second animal lurking in the shadows as well. Perhaps a bird, choosing where to land on a whim, but always making it through.

He, bless him, waited patiently for her response. "I don't want to talk on that train," she eventually said.

"Really? Do you want to stay longer? We can leave tomorrow, if you want."

"No," she interrupted. "That's not what I meant."

"So what are you saying?"

Annabeth's heart beat so loudly, she wouldn't have been surprised if the world began shaking. "What if we just… stopped? Ran away? Rented a house together? Escaped?"

At her words, he froze. He looked at her in a totally different way, as if he had never seen her before, drinking her in. Annabeth couldn't tell what he was thinking. For the first time, she felt uncomfortable in his gaze.

Her heart dropped. "You don't want to."

"No, no, I do, I mean… but what if we run out of money?"

"We'll get jobs. Somewhere they don't know us yet."

"Don't get me wrong, I'd be down, but I'm not sure if it's something you want to do. What happened to always having a plan?"

At the rejection, Annabeth's eyes stung. "This is my plan. Or, the best it'll get, anyway." She took a shaky breath. "Look, what we're doing now is unsustainable. I told you on our last train that I liked your hair, and your eyes. But it's more than that. You wanted a real, different compliment, right? You're so stupidly charming. The moment I saw you, I could barely look away. You have this electric pull, where we could be in a room with the richest people on Earth, and I'd still be looking at you. You're like, the sun, and I'm stuck in your orbit. And I hate the idea of being totally reliant on someone, but I am. I couldn't leave even if I wanted to."

"Personally, I think we'd be more like planets orbiting each other—"

"Shush, this is my moment." His mouth snapped closed, and she fought the urge to laugh as tears welled in her eyes. "I used to think I was like a cool bandit, stealing from the rich and greedy and giving them a taste of their own medicine, and I thought that was all I needed. But now I've met you, and for the first time I have something special. It's been five years, and you're the first person I've ever been honest with.

"I don't want us to be temporary anymore. I want to stop telling every rich person I meet that I love them, and I want to learn what the words mean instead. I never thought anything could really be permanent, or last forever, but I want to build something permanent. With you. Um, if you're down. If you're not, well. It's fine. I'll be fine."

His face was unreadable, so she rambled on. "Y'know what, you can forget what I said. Let's go get the train, we're almost gonna miss it."

He reached for her arm. The wind ruffled his hair, and when she met his eyes, he looked so young, so earnest. Like they had a whole life left to live together. "If you're in, then I am too. I already can't focus because I'm always thinking about you. I told someone I liked their blonde hair. Her head was totally grey."

Annabeth smiled for the first time in a week. "That's embarrassing."

"Shut up, you think I'm cute. Are you sure? We have no plan."

"I'll think of one within ten minutes."

His eyes were alight, glittering like stars, but he warned her, one last time. "We could pay for this. It could be really bad."

"We have the money." Suddenly, Annabeth's face burst into an uncontrollable grin. And even if they were broke, her choice would be the same. He was like a blazing fire, both the brightest and warmest thing in the world, and she couldn't focus on anything else. She was ablaze from the moment she saw him.

After a brief pause, he met her eyes. "Okay," he said, extending a hand. "I'm Percy."

His smile was no longer crooked. One of his teeth was chipped. She grasped his hand and shook.

"Nice to meet you, Percy. I'm Annabeth."