A.N.: So, its been a little while, and I apologize. Right now, my story Roadtrip! Is kind of center stage, plus, I've returned to Wattpad after a long break. And by long, I mean like, a year. Or maybe two. (for anyone that's interested, my username is hinice2meetu2) But I'm back, and that's what matters. Many of you mentioned that Piper getting pregnant would be a good idea, and that you would like to see some cravings. So that will be featured in this story, but obviously not immediately. As said in my last chapter, today we will visit Katie Gardner and her everlasting love-hate relationship with Travis Stoll. You love me, right? Anyways, enjoy!

Disclaimer: no, I don't own PJO or any of the characters. All rights go to Rick Riordan.

Three: Katie's PoV

I slammed my hand down on the snooze button on my alarm clock. My eyelids fluttered open. It was three in the afternoon, but after having an early meeting at the office, I had needed a nap. And now I needed to go bartend.

Don't get me wrong, I loved writing for National Geographic. I loved the research. But if a month or two went by with no assignments… that meant no serious payday. Which led back to my bartending job at a Mexican restaurant in downtown Manhattan called Habanero. It sucked, the late hours, but it paid the bills. Throughout my college years, I had perfected the art of making martinis.

I dragged myself out of bed and grabbed my black polo and slacks, slipping my feet into comfy black sneakers. I braided my dark hair across the crown of my head and then pulled it back into a ponytail and swiped on some mascara. It was better to not look like complete crap at work, even if it meant warding off the occasional drunk guy who wanted to hook up with you. And that's when the cheap faux diamond ring came in handy. It was fake, and the only time I ever wore it was for work, but it sure did keep away the perverts that overdid it with the beer. I tucked the thing in my pocket and grabbed my purse before heading out the door.

I lived in a neat apartment near Central Park. Mom had helped convince the last renters to move out so I could move in, as a congratulatory gift for landing the job at National Geographic last year. It was an upgrade from my slightly more dilapidated rental in the suburbs. Gods, I didn't think I was ever going to get the smell of the mildew out of my system.

It was almost four, and the streets hadn't really come alive with the Friday night buzz yet. I hurried along the side walk. It was the middle of spring, and the heat hadn't really set in yet, thank the gods. When it hits the nineties and you live in humid city… you come to an understanding with what the word 'hot' really means. Especially when your air conditioner decides to break.

Habanero was open, and I stepped inside. My coworker, Chelsea, nodded hello to me. Recently, we'd had two new employees that were in for being hostesses, and Chelsea always took new recruits. I didn't get them until it came to bartending, when they'd successfully managed to be a waitress. At least, that's how the somewhat ridiculous hierarchy of a restaurant worked.

The bar opened up at five, but my boss, Mrs. Martinez, always appreciated it if I helped waitress the early birds, since we had employees that slacked off when it came to timing. I didn't really mind. The tips were killer.

I popped a piece of bubblegum in my mouth before tying an apron around my waist. I wiped down the bar and checked the stock of alcohol. The usual variety of red and white wines? Check. Beer was organized by brand and color in the fridge? Check. Margarita mix? Check. I browsed through the assortment of tequila and other varieties of stronger intoxicants before coming to the conclusion that I didn't really need to grab anything from the storerooms. The dishwasher had finally been fixed, so there weren't any cloudy glasses, thank the gods. Last week I'd had to deal with some major snoot lady who was convinced she was going to die because there was some soap residue on her martini glass. It was all I could do not to reach over the counter and throttle her and her stupid fat husband.

"How was the meeting?" Chelsea asked as she walked by.

"Good. I'm scheduled to take a trip to the Amazons next month, but until then… nothing," I told her, grimacing.

"Well, if you can fit me in your suitcase, I'll come," she offered jokingly. "Beats dealing with Rex all the time." Rex is the name of her on and off boyfriend that I really thought she should just dump and be done with. And everytime she did break it off… he came back, flowers and chocolates in hand and she swooned all over again. It kind of made me want to roll my eyes. She obviously wasn't happy with it, and deserved better. So why was she settling for the love that she thought she deserved instead of what she had really earned?

I pursed my lips. "Yeah. But I'll still have to deal with Missy and Brandt for the time being," I remarked, sighing. Brandt was my ex that deserved an eternity in the Fields of Punishment as far as I was concerned. Hooking up with anyone behind your girlfriend's back was a horrible thing to do, but to hook up with her bitch of a coworker that she had to bartend with every week? And to make it all worse, he comes in late and makes out with her over the counter.

"That blows," Chelsea agreed. "I don't even understand what he sees in her. She's a fake blond that can't do anything but screw to save her life."

"And bartend," I pointed out. "Although, I definitely do that better." I wasn't lying when I said that. Ask Mrs. Martinez about it. I could tell she was annoyed that Brandt distracted Missy from her work all the time.

"Well, she isn't scheduled until six, since you're opening. You have an hour of tips all to yourself," Chelsea told me cheerfully. "But I have to go. And make sure the new bus boy doesn't mess up. Otherwise we'll have to pick up shifts again to help out, since Jack is out of town."

I nodded in agreement. I slid into a stood behind the counter and drummed my fingers, waiting for the first customer. Sometimes, life after high school, regardless of whether or not you were a demigod, still sucked.

Two hours later, I was busting my ass. As expected, the restaurant was flooded. Missy and I were so busy, we barely had time to glare at each other. Mrs. Martinez had hired another bartender names Louis, but he hadn't been trained yet, and so we were stuck with the rush.

I handed one man his Sam Adams and hurried over to take a couple's orders. A light Budweiser and a margarita on the rocks. Easy. I grabbed the beer and a glass and brought it over before beginning to make the margarita. Tequila dribbled across the back counter, but I ignored it. I rolled the rim in salt before he blender buzzed and I poured the slush into the glass. I handed it to the woman with a brief, half-hearted smile.

"Anything else?" I asked politely.

"Nothing, for now," the man answered, and I retreated to grab another bottle of Pinot Noir from the store room. You'd be surprised how much men will pay for wine when they're looking to impress some lady they've just met two seconds ago. It's kind of ridiculous.

I returned and slid the bottle into the wine case, careful not to bust it, before turning back to the counter. I spotted Brandt down at Missy's end, nuzzling her as she leaned over. I wrinkled my nose and rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to throw up. I could tell that a group of five were irritated with it, and I walked over to take their orders. Missy would have to eat it, because I wasn't loosing the opportunity to make more cash.

After catering to the group of five and apologizing for my coworker's behavior, I walked back to my side to take a new customer's orders. I leaned up against the counter.

"May I take your order?" I asked. He looked up from his phone, and there was something annoyingly familiar about him. Those eyes… I could swear that I'd seen them somewhere before. They were a bright, mischievous blue that suggested that he knew something you didn't.

"Holy Hades, Katie Gardner?" he answered, clearly shocked. That voice… warmth pooled in the pit of my stomach, and my mind raced to remember…

Travis Stoll.

Impossible.

He'd changed. Of course, he was still hot, but that just reminded me that he was probably still a playboy, too. His nut brown hair was cropped shorter, exposing more of his face, and you could just barely see the potential curl in it. He was tanned for a New Yorker, and he was wearing a light blue shirt and clean jeans. He tucked his phone in his pocket and leaned forward, his elbows resting on the counter with ease.

I mentally groaned. I kept up with my friends from camp, Annabeth and Percy lived and worked in Manhattan, and Piper and Jason commuted from here and L.A. Just a few days ago, I'd received an invitation to Leo and Reyna's wedding. And it wasn't rare to run into Grover and Juniper when I went jogging in Central Park.

But never Travis. He'd always been the boy I'd loved and hated, and the one thing that usually decided the emotional highs and lows of my life at camp. He was one of the things I hadn't particularly missed. But my mind didn't hesitate to remind me that in a second, he could easily make me forget myself.

And judging by the way my heart skidded in my chest, I knew that nothing had changed.

"I'm sorry, I think you might've mistaken me for someone else," I lied, taking a tiny step back.

"You never were a good liar, Katie Kat, and may I remind you that you're wearing a name-tag?" he scoffed, rolling his eyes and grinning. "But since you asked, I'll have a beer."

"What kind?" I sighed reluctantly.

"Surprise me. From what I remember, you've always been pretty good at that," he decided, that smile still plastered knowingly across his face. I could barely look at him without wanting to either slap it off or take a leaf out of Missy's book and kiss him over the counter.

I grabbed a light Corona from the cooler near my feet and hand it to him, not bothering to pour it into a glass.

"So…" he began. "What have you been up to?"

"Who's asking?"

"Me."

I paused, and then decided that it didn't really matter. Travis could easily ask Percy or Annabeth if he wanted. "Reporter for National Geographic and… this," I motioned to the scene around me. He nodded and sipped his drink. "You?"

"Salesman. For Corvette," he replied, then shook his head. "Gods, I always thought black made you look so bad ass. Nothing's changed."

I rolled my eyes. "Please, Stoll. Don't even try it."

"Why? Because you're not available? Because it won't work?" he drawled. "Both are wrong. I can see the way you glare at the guy over there, the one that's eating Blondie's face. An ex for sure. And not a good one. And as for the other one… some things change… and some things will always remain the same."

My eyes narrowed. "How about because you're lying?"

"Come on, Katie Kat. You, out of everyone. After Connor died, I tried to disconnect from everything. I really did. Only came back for the occasional visit and wedding. But you're the one person that I can't let go of," he admitted in a low voice. "And I might've been a good liar, and I might still be a good liar, but I never was when it came to you. And like I said, some things never change."

I swallowed, ignoring my increased heartbeat. Those eyes… no wonder I remembered them.

"Don't say those things," I warned him.

"Why?"

"Because I said so," I snapped. "For my sanity."

"So me telling the truth affects your sanity?" he teased, setting his beer down and clearing his throat. "When do you get off?"

"Stoll," I muttered.

"Gardner," he pressed. "Truce?"

I laughed slightly and rolled my eyes. I stepped back. "I get off at nine."

And with that, I knew I was screwed.

Because Travis was right. Some things never change.

So that was that chapter. Now, we will be revisiting Tratie in the next update, as a follow up to this one. I just couldn't bring myself to neatly cram it together. It didn't feel right. But the next chapter will be easy for me to write, since I already have it planned out. So do review, and check out my other stories if you haven't, and don't be afraid to tell me who you want to see next! Thanks so much for reading! (I was listening to Blowin Smoke by Kacey Musgraves while I wrote this chapter, it was a good mood setter to write a bar scene, if you're wondering.) Love you all!

Xoxo-NotsoSugarQueen