They didn't end up hanging out. Annabeth had sent an email—nothing too desperate, just casual, not even asking anything about plans. He didn't respond.
She'd spent the entire weekend in embarrassed regret, feeling worse and worse as time slipped by without a reply. By the time she got to fourth period, Monday, she didn't even look at him. Didn't even know what she was thinking, really. Idiot Jackson was still just Idiot Jackson.
In the past month, Annabeth has gotten really good at pretending that detention never happened. Rolling her eyes with Piper every time he makes an unnecessary comment, feeling a constant urge to hit him, convincing herself that their little seconds of eye contact were nothing and meant nothing.
Typical stuff.
"These stories really are fascinating." Miss Aella wrings her wrists. "And you all don't seem to be appreciating them, so I've decided to assign a project."
Groans ring around the room, but Annabeth allows herself a quiet excitement. Projects have always been her favorite part of school.
"A group project." The groans turn into the quiet shuffle and chatter of friends making eye contact and silent agreements to partner up.
"Gee, Annie, wanna work with me?" Piper asks, and Annabeth turns around to face her with a mocking grin.
"Why do I get the feeling you mean 'wanna do all of the work and put my name on it'?" She scoffs with a grin.
Piper shrugs. "Gimme a break, I'm dyslexic."
Annabeth throws a ball of paper at her. "I'm dyslexic too, babe, so I don't know if you can use that card with me."
"You're like, the smartest dyslexic I've ever met. That shouldn't count." The brunette protests, but her whining is interrupted by Miss Aella clearing her throat.
"Before you get your hopes up," She says, an unsteady authority in her face, like she's bracing herself. "I will be assigning partners."
The groans return. "You'll be writing a, um… a modernized short story based on a myth. The myth, you get to choose. Just…I mean, if you all choose the same myth, I'll, I'll grade that myth a lot harder so…try to be creative with what you choose."
Though she looks like she's anticipating a reaction, nobody says much of anything.
"Right, ah, partners." Miss Aella starts rattling off names. Annabeth listens in the way of somebody only looking for their own name; she is aware enough to give Piper a smirk when the girl's paired with some burnout almost as bad as—
"Annabeth Chase with…Percy Jackson."
Annabeth, in all of her kindness, only smirked at Piper's unfortunate partner. In return, her friend decides to give her the biggest, evilest grin she can manage. For the first time in a month, she locks eyes with Percy for more than two seconds. Her insides twist. He's grinning, too, like they've had this whole thing planned.
"The project is due, um, Monday, so I suggest you make plans fast."
"It's Friday now! You're seriously only gonna give us the weekend to do this?" Piper complains, earning an almost intimidating look from the mousy teacher.
"Yes, I am." The teacher folds her arms. Students flood out of the room the instant the bell rings,
Annabeth does her best to rush out of the class. Unfortunately, her best being significantly hindered by a dragging, Friday afternoon Piper, and she isn't fast enough to be out of earshot when Percy hollers, "Hey, wise girl!"
Reluctantly, she turns and faces him. "Yes?"
He's annoyingly unbothered by her. "So, project. Your place on Saturday?"
"Do we have to talk about this now? Can't I just, I don't know, email you?" Annabeth isn't even sure if she had a reason to say this—after all, it's clearly a more embarrassing situation for her than him—but Percy almost seems to flinch.
"I'd rather get the plans set now, and we don't see each other for the rest of the day. So are you free on Saturday?"
"Yeah, after eight, I have work. Why does it have to be at my house?"
"Parents don't let me have friends over."
"Since when are we friends?"
"Gosh, are we not?" Percy slaps a hand against his chest. He's wearing his swim team hoodie again, Annabeth notices.
"Whatever. My house at eight is good, see you then." She rushes out, walking away and reuniting with Piper.
"Wise girl?" Piper has an eyebrow raised the second Annabeth reaches her.
"Please, don't ask."
Annabeth taps her fingers aimlessly on the keys of her laptop; not with enough pressure to actually type, but enough to make sounds that distracted her from the fact that it's eight and Idiot Jackson's going to show up any minute. Not that it's a big deal. She's been trying to figure out what myth they were going to cover; the Wikipedia page was just so big.
"Oh, um, the myth…um, you get to, um, choose," She mimics, slamming her computer shut and falling back onto her bed.
"Nice impression," A voice comes from the door. "Though I think you were a bit heavy-handed with the stuttering."
Bolting up, Annabeth turns pink. "Um, hi."
"See, that's more realistic. Hi," Percy says, already wearing his infuriating smile. "Your mom let me in. Nice lady."
"Really? That's news to me." There's an awkward, unbearable moment where he looks at Annabeth like he expects her to say more. She doesn't.
Percy runs a hand through his hair. "So, the project."
"You can come in, you know," She says, opening her computer back up. "Unless you're a vampire or something."
He laughs, walking further into the room, sitting at the edge of her bed. Annabeth can't help but blush a bit more. There's about an inch between her feet and his legs—not that it matters. "Any ideas for what myth we're going to do?"
"I was kind of hoping you had some?" Annabeth replies absently, looking down to the screen. Maybe if she doesn't look at him, it'll make everything less awkward. "The Wikipedia page for this sucks."
"Um…creation of Aphrodite?"
"Kronos gets his balls cut up, forms Aphrodite from sea foam?" She raises an eyebrow. "That's not gonna be very easy to modernize."
"Touché, wise girl. Heracles?" Percy smiles.
"Too long, I think. Nice on the Greek pronunciation, though."
They sit there in silence for a second.
"I got it!" He says suddenly, grabbing Annabeth's ankle. She squeals and kicks, and he laughs for a second before he's on the floor.
"God, I'm so sorry!" She tries, but she's laughing so hard that it's difficult to breathe. "I thought we established that I'm violent when I'm surprised!"
It's so funny that, for just a moment, she's forgotten that she's supposed to forget about detention.
"Whatever, wise girl, you just like knocking me around." Then again, it isn't like Percy ever tried to.
Talk about mixed messages.
"What was the idea?" Annabeth says suddenly. This is too confusing for her, much too weird, and awkward, and something she'd rather not have to handle.
"Oh." Percy props himself up, but stays on the floor. Whether this makes things more or less uncomfortable is difficult to tell. "Medusa?"
There's a beat of silence. "Yeah. Yeah, that sounds kind of cool. How would we modernize it though?"
"The gods could be, like, all super famous on social media or something," He grins up at her as he says this, his green eyes brightening, and it's kind of adorable. "And when Athena catches her with Poseidon in her temple, she uses her fame to ruin Medusa and send a bunch of haters after her calling her ugly, or something."
"You can sit on the bed, you know," Annabeth says suddenly, tucking a curl behind her ear.
"Oh, can I? I wasn't sure, what with the whole kicking-me-off thing." The sarcasm is enough to make Annabeth blush. "I'm surprised you don't have a desk, by the way."
"There's too much pressure when I'm at a desk. Like I have to get stuff done. I don't like being forced into things."
Like this project, perhaps, but they both ignore that idea. Pushing himself up, Percy gets back on the foot of the bed.
"Anyways, that's a really interesting idea, but why would Athena attack Medusa over Poseidon? Insta-famous or not, she wouldn't really have a temple for them to hook up in."
"Maybe Athena and Poseidon are secret lovers?" Percy suggests teasingly, raising his eyebrows.
"That's ridiculous," Annabeth shoots back. "Those gods have never had any romantic involvement in any mythos, ever. We can't change something that big."
"How forward thinking of you."
"Do you want an A on this? Because I'm pretty sure we'd end up with points deducted for historical inaccuracy."
"For somebody who had no problem hurling a book at me, you're quite the stickler for rules."
At first, it was embarrassing, but now Percy's constant teasing seem more mean than anything. She glares at him, and he puts his hands up, smirking in a somehow apologetic way. "Maybe Athena and Poseidon had plans," Annabeth suggests, looking away from the boy. "Not a date, just something they had to do together, like planning a surprise party, or doing a project, and Poseidon bailed on her to be with Medusa."
Percy gives her a look, and it's just as intimidating as she remembers; like he's picking her apart, like he can see everything she's trying to hide. "That wasn't too bad, was it?"
"Sorry, what?"
"Coming up with an idea for the project." He says, putting that annoying grin right back on his face, and it's as if nothing happened. Annabeth wishes she had a book. "Surely not anything to curse dear Miss Aella about, right?"
"Right."
The process of actually writing the story is surprisingly painless. Being in close quarters with Percy Jackson? Not so much. She thought the "no big deal" eye contact was a big deal from across the classroom, but it's an absolute nightmare while they're inches away. On her bed, for god's sake.
"We should totally give Medusa green hair." Annabeth says, eyes glued to the laptop screen. "I mean, the story's basically done, but it'd be a cute detail to add."
"Nice," Percy chuckles. "I can't believe how fast that went by. What did that take, an hour?"
Even though she's been staring at her computer, she hasn't actually bothered to check the time. "Oh my god, it's one in the morning."
"Seriously?" Percy asks, and the alarm in his voice finally gets her to look over. He groans, eyes wide, and runs his hand through his hair. "Shit."
"Do you have a curfew or something?" Her ADHD makes time move fast like that sometimes, but it doesn't bother her much anymore; time doesn't play a very big factor in her life.
"I—no, I don't, but I don't…" He sighs. "I walked here."
Annabeth doesn't want to be concerned, but she can't help it. "Are you gonna be okay getting home?"
"My mom's asleep by now; I don't want to wake her." Percy stands up, pulls another hand through his hair, and starts pacing. It's the most Annabeth's ever seen him care, a world away from his usual easygoing demeanor. "I'll just have to walk, I guess."
"It's too late for you to walk home," She insists before she can think to stop herself. Before she can think of what his other options might be, or if he even has any other options. "I mean, it's too late for me to drive you, so…you can stay here, I guess."
Percy takes a moment to stare at her. His expression is as serious as it was that day in detention, and Annabeth does her best to keep from being unnerved. The stress falls from his face, albeit hesitantly, and he sits back onto Annabeth's bed in a resigned way.
"You can use my phone to leave your mom a message, if that makes things better."
"That...yeah, that would be great, thanks."
As if Annabeth hasn't witnessed enough (completely overwhelming) sincerity from Percy already, listening to him on the phone with his mother almost kills her. He sounds soft, and kind, and genuinely sorry, all of the things that Idiot Jackson should never be. She isn't sure if she loves it or hates it.
"Is it okay that I'd be staying here?" He asks once he's off the phone. Finally feeling tired, Annabeth yawns as she nods.
"It's not like we're doing anything wrong. We just lost track of time doing that project, my parents'll be fine with it." Probably. She isn't sure, actually, but there's not much else to be done about it.
Percy looks uneasy, but nods in response anyways.
"I need to go shower, but I mean…make yourself at home."
By the time Annabeth's back, he's lying down on her bed, staring up at her ceiling; the lights are off, and the star stickers on her ceiling give a faint green glow. He jerks up when he hears the door open. "Sorry."
"It's fine," She says in a tired voice, sitting next to him. Her long, blond hair is still damp, but neither of them mind.
They sit there in silence for a while, but it's not the same uncomfortable one from earlier.
"You never responded to my email."
There's not really a reason to say this. Nothing to remind her of it, no need to get it out of the air. Maybe that's the perfect reason to bring it up.
"I haven't really had access to a computer for a while."
No shame in his voice, no awkwardness, just stating facts. It's refreshing.
"I just thought it was a joke you were pulling, or something."
It's not so dark that she wouldn't be able to see him, but she almost doesn't want to look.
"Why would you think that?"
"You're Idiot Jackson. It just seemed like something you would do."
"The beautiful ones are so cruel." Percy says, and damn if she can't feel the smile in his voice.
"Gee, you think I'm beautiful?" She laughs back. Hopefully the teasing hides her sheepishness like the darkness hides her blush.
"Yes."
It's so simple, so out there, that Annabeth wishes she could disappear. "Oh."
"You really are, you know." He lets that hang in the air. "The first time I saw you, I thought you looked like a princess."
"Really?" He sounds like a little kid, and she can't help but laugh. "I thought you looked like an idiot."
"Most people do."
Nothing feels quite as bad as the person you just insulted agreeing with you. "I mean, I did at first. I never really looked at you until detention, last week."
"And once you got a good stare at me, you thought I looked like what? An imbecile? A freak?"
"I thought…I thought you were so handsome, it kind of scared me."
Annabeth's built up the nerve to stare at him in the near-dark. She can't make out the finer details, like the pink of his lips and the green of his eyes, but the big picture is still there—the straight path of his nose, his dark eyelashes fluttering. The streetlight from outside peeks through her window and lights up his jawline; it looks strong enough to be a weapon, too serious to be a part of somebody as playful as Percy.
He turns to face her, and their eyes lock. Annabeth feels her breath catch, her heart panic, and everything seems to freeze. "You think I'm scary?"
"That's not the right word," She swallows hard. "More intimidating, I guess."
"I think you're scary."
"What? Why?"
"Because you're so real about everything. Every time you glare at me in class, I can't help but feel bad, like I'm disappointing you, and like that's the last thing I want to do. Because I can't get you out of my head, and I don't really mind."
Annabeth gets a sudden urge to reach out, to just touch his arm, and because it's one in the morning and he's right there, she does. Touching him is worse than the eye contact (and a thousand times better).
"If it makes you feel better," She says, somewhere in her voice a surrender, "I can't get you out of my head, either."
Percy puts a hand on her face, and instantly, it heats up. In any other scenario, he'd comment; now simply isn't the time. Annabeth doesn't protest, not even when he starts to trace her features with his thumb. Over her brow, skimming down her nose, across her cheekbones, around the lines of her lips, electrifying her skin inch by inch. His hand falls to her chin and they sit for a moment. "Annabeth?"
"Yeah?" She asks quickly, her mind in a daze but her skin fully awake.
"Would it be okay for me to kiss you?"
There's no way she'd be able to make a sound, let alone form words, or sentences, so she nods, praying to whatever gods might be out there that she's gotten the message across.
Then he kisses her, and Annabeth learns what it feels like to die. It's gentle, and quiet, and fantastic in a thousand little ways. She isn't sure if her eyes are closed, or if everything's just gone black. Not that she'd mind either way.
One second she's curling her fingers into Percy's dark hair, and the next, her legs are around him, his hands on her waist. It doesn't feel explicit; it's not even occurred to her that she's in her room, kissing a boy her parents don't know is still there, sitting on his lap. It feels comfortable, and right in a way that life's never felt.
Time passes before their lips part—a long time, but not nearly long enough—and they sit like this, foreheads touching, eyes still closed.
"That was nice," Annabeth whispers.
"Yeah," Percy agrees, a bit breathlessly. "It was."
"I'm gonna…go to bed now."
"Good idea."
"Good night, Percy."
"Good night, Annabeth."
Didn't expect to continue this, but here we are. I don't write much, I don't usually have time to around this point in the year; the Percabeth in me has just been too strong to deny lately. There's a pretty big time gap in between when I started this and when I finished it, so if there's any disconnect, that's probably part of the reason why.
To be continued?