Annabeth's walking out of school on Friday afternoon with Rachel and Piper when Piper says, "You know what I could go for? Ice cream."

"Ooh, yes!" Rachel says, clapping her hands.

Despite all the Ben & Jerry's she had with Percy on Valentine's Day, Annabeth is still totally in the mood for more. Scoops, the town ice cream parlor, makes the best raspberry swirl she's ever had.

"You know what they say, ice cream is sweet enough to heal a broken heart," she says.

"Post-breakup ice cream does taste better somehow," Piper agrees.

Scoops is a short walk from school. Inside it's crowded, each chair at the counter filled, all the teal booths packed. The air smells sweet and is filled with chatter, and Frank Sinatra's rich voice warbles from the jukebox.

After a few minutes of waiting, a booth opens up in the corner; Piper practically throws herself at it to claim it.

Shaking her head, Annabeth brushes a ketchup packet off the seat and slides in beside Piper. Rachel takes the spot across from them and picks up the menu to flick through the specials.

"I can't figure out if I want a cone or a sundae..."

Annabeth stares down at the speckled tabletop and lets out a tiny sigh. This is the first time she's come to Scoops without Luke in years.

It's so easy to recall countless times she and Luke curled up in one of these booths and shared a milkshake with two straws. Luke kept quarters in his pockets so she could insert them in the jukebox and hum to her favorite vintage hits. All stupidly cliche, she knows, but the memories are so vibrant that her eyes feel prickly.

Rachel reaches across the table to pat Annabeth's hand, clocking her distress. "How are you holding up?" she asks.

Annabeth shrugs. "I'll be okay," she says, blinking rapidly to clear the moisture.

"We better get some ice cream in you."

Piper flags down a waitress and they place their orders: raspberry swirl for Annabeth, a rootbeer float for Rachel, and a chocolate malt with a shitton of whipped cream, hold the cherry for Piper. Annabeth tears her napkin into little strips and people-watches while her friends gossip away about band drama.

Her stomach sinks down to her ankles when she notices Luke. Of course he's here; haunting her at every waking moment simply isn't enough.

She should've known he'd bring Drew to Scoops, but that doesn't stop her from hurting. There's a milkshake in front of them, two straws, and Luke's trying to balance the cherry on his nose like a total goof. Drew's giggles come out short and breathless and her fingers are intertwined with Luke's.

Why did she think she could handle this? She is not going to be okay.

"I'm going to the bathroom," she says, getting up. Piper and Rachel nod, still busy discussing how Bella G. gave Dylan a hand job in the practice room.

On her way to the restroom, Annabeth can't help but halt by the jukebox and listen in on Luke and Drew's conversation.

"...that guy's gonna spend ten minutes trying to decide what to get but end up settling on a vanilla shake," Luke's saying.

"And that blonde girl over there really wants a brownie sundae, but she's going to get a cup of sorbet because she thinks the sundae has too many calories," Drew adds.

Annabeth's heart lurches. This was her and Luke's thing, guessing what customers in line would order. It's physically painful to watch Drew and Luke do all the things she and Luke did.

Luke told Annabeth she was special. But as it turns out, there's only one thing ever was. Replaceable.

Suddenly, Percy's fake dating scheme doesn't sound so ludicrous anymore. Maybe…maybe she could show Luke that she's not as replaceable as he seems to think. Make him sick with envy. Have him begging her to take him back.

She should give Percy a chance.

As soon as Annabeth's back at her house after Scoops, she scrawls a note and sticks it on his front door.

P-

I want to hear more about your idea — meet me in the treehouse at the same time as yesterday

from A

She's crazy for writing that note and nuts for even considering this. It's illogical, impractical, unreasonable. Then again, nothing about her current situation is reasonable, so it might be time to let go of practicality.

Percy climbs up the ladder at 9:03. His hair is slightly wet like he's recently showered, which means he must've recently gotten home from hockey practice. As he flops down beside her, she catches the scent of his shampoo. It's really good and turning her head a bit fuzzy—

God, is she seriously getting distracted by shampoo? Damn ADHD.

"So, I see you've been thinking about my plan," Percy says, smirking a little. He's so fucking smug that she wants to scratch his eyes out. Instead, she runs a hand through her hair.

"Your proposition is...tempting," she says.

"Does this mean you'll date me?"

"Fake date you," she corrects. "And, no, I haven't decided yet."

"What more is there to consider?"

She leans back, resting her head against the wall. "Well, there's the tiny matter of I hate your guts and you hate mine."

"Irrelevant."

"Um, it kind of is relevant. We can hardly breathe the same air without fighting."

"What about now?"

She raises an eyebrow. "We're literally bickering about whether or not we should…date."

"You're making this out to be a bigger deal than it has to be," Percy says. "It's just a little deception. We'll only have to act like a couple for a few weeks and then it's done and we never have to talk again. I promise I won't be a shitty fake date."

She tests this out, tries to make the implausible sound, well, plausible. "So I'll be your…girlfriend?" The words feel ridiculous on her lips. Even the idea of her being Percy Jackson's girlfriend is laughable.

Percy, to his credit, is patient. "Yeah, pretty much. You'll go to my games and I'll walk you to class and we'll do normal couple stuff. Once Luke and Cal see us together, they'll realize what they're missing."

"This is stupid. No one will ever believe that we like each other."

Percy slings an arm around her shoulders. "We were best friends for years, Chase. I'm sure we can pull it off."

She pushes him away. "I don't know. It…it seems unlikely."

"We'll come up with a cover story. People don't know the extent of it. They just know we don't get along. We could roll with some shit about how we…I dunno, always sort of had a thing for each other—"

Annabeth gags. Percy ignores her.

"—and finally decided to give dating a shot. People would eat that up. It's romantic. It's believable."

"I don't know."

"Imagine how you'll feel to make Luke squirm with jealousy. Imagine how it'll eat away at his soul, until he longs to have you again."

She squeezes her eyes shut. When she opens them a minute later, her face is hard. "Fine. I'll do it."

Percy cheers. "Hell yeah, I knew you'd come around—"

Annabeth holds up a finger. "Whoa, we need to make a plan. I'm not diving in without a contract."

"Yeah, that might be a good idea."

Percy grabs a notebook from the bookshelf, flips past pages of drawings and short stories to a blank sheet that he rips out. He goes to put the notebook back, but Annabeth touches his hand.

"Wait, that's Beth and Percy's Creation Book," she says, taking it from him. "God, I assumed you threw it away after we…after, you know, we stopped hanging out."

Percy rubs the back of his neck. "I couldn't bring myself to. I mean, I didn't even bring anyone in the tree house after you. It seemed wrong. This place and this stuff wasn't mine, it was always ours."

"I guess it was ours. I mean, technically your dad was the one who built it and all, but it was special to both of us."

She smiles at him for a moment. Percy's face has changed over the years, grown less soft around the edges, but his eyes are still the same. Jade green, sparkly like the ocean in the sunlight. The eyes she used to daydream about when she was young and clueless. The eyes that make her say my favorite color is green to this day.

She clears her throat, sliding the book off her lap. "The contract."

Percy rolls his eyes. "You and those goddamn contracts," he mutters.

"We need to lay down the ground rules."

At the top of the paper, she writes, Relationship Contract. "Rule number one," she says, "No falling in love."

"I wasn't planning on it," Percy snorts.

"I know we hate each other and all, but we still have to make it clear. Fake dating, it does shit to people's heads. And falling in love only fucks up everything so under no circumstances are we allowed to."

That's one good thing about this arrangement; she and Percy will never have to worry about that kind of complication.

Percy nods. "Rule number two should be that you have to go to all my hockey games. I'll give you one of my jerseys and you can sit in the front row and be a supportive fake-girlfriend."

Annabeth lets him add it to the list.

"Rule three," she says, "I dump you."

"Why can't I break up with you?"

She thinks about this for a moment. "Fine, we can compromise. It'll be a mutual breakup; we both agreed we were better off as friends."

"That's fair. And rule four should be no telling anyone that we're faking it."

She falters. "So I can't even tell Rachel and Piper?"

"I mean, you can tell them after the fact, but we have to make this authentic as possible."

"I… guess that's a good point."

She jots all of this down, then asks, "How do you feel about physical contact? I'd be down for anything short of, like, sex, but I'll only do what you're comfortable with."

"I'd do anything," he says. "Even kiss you."

She scowls as he shudders. "You should know, I'm actually an amazing kisser," she says.

"I'll know firsthand if that's true soon enough."

Holy fuck, she probably is going to have to…do that. Kiss him. When Annabeth was eight, it was all she dreamed of, but now the idea is mostly repulsive—and slightly intriguing.

They've put the finishing touches on the contract and she's about to sign it when Percy says, "Wait, one more rule."

She pauses, tip of the pen still touching the paper. "Yes?"

"If any of the previously mentioned rules are broken, the contract is null and void."

"Perfect."

They sign their names at the bottom of the page and seal the contract the same way they used to seal promises in elementary school, by spitting on the paper (Percy insisted).

"This is gross," she says, folding the contract and tucking it inside Beth and Percy's Creation Book.

"Not as gross as your face."

Annabeth flips him off.

Dealing with him every day is going to be easier said than done.

So this is it, Annabeth thinks as she watches Percy/ the idiot next door/ her ex-best friend/ her new fake boyfriend walk back into his house. Too late to think of turning back now.

Their plan is in place, the contract made, and now all they have to do is convince basically everyone that they're in a relationship.

(and not fall in love, but never in a million years will that happen)