Chapter 31

Annabeth's nonchalance sends my head spinning. I'm still bursting with adrenaline, and maybe it's just the let down from that, but I feel off-balance. I honestly thought I'd find her in trouble again, with some creep snatching her and being too late to do anything. I can't process the feeling that's coursing through me, but I know Grover and I are in the same boat. He's the first one to verbalize it, maybe because he's known her longer and been in this situation before.

"You gave us a freakin' heart attack Annabeth!" He chastises, clearly less reserved than I am. Maybe he's been here before; maybe he just doesn't feel any qualms about fighting with her because they've known each other so long. She just raises an eyebrow at him before grabbing her pretzels and shaking her head. This doesn't seem like the first he's grilled her out for taking risks, and her shoulders square defiantly.

"Sorry, I really thought I'd be back before either of you guys woke up." Her eyes are jumbled and distracted, she's clearly not bothered by Grover's irritation, or mine for that matter, but her eyes are flicking around the store. Her expression is closed off and her body language is tense. She doesn't seem scared, just absentminded and drained. I don't know exactly what happened this morning, but a craving for chocolate covered pretzels doesn't seem to be the most likely reason behind her spontaneous stroll.

Grover looks at me, his expression displaying all sorts of exasperation. We both see that nothing he says is really going to affect her now, so I just shrug at him and follow her out, back to our cluttered little safe haven.

Annabeth gets in the back seat and quickly props the bed back into its original position while gathering her blanket around her. Grover gets in the driver's seat after checking with me, I just shrug and sit shotgun, figuring Annabeth just needs a little space. As Grover pulls out, I try to get comfortable, or as comfortable as I can considering that in just over an hour and a half, I could be meeting my father.

My daydreaming is cut short when I hear a soft sigh coming from the back seat. Furtively, I attempt to peer in the rear view mirror to check on her, but she catches me, of course. I look away, but when I look back, she's transfixed by the trees flickering by outside her window. My eyes skim over her tussled blond hair, which is slightly snarled from sleep. She's sitting with her knees pulled up to her chest, and her fingers are drumming on her knee.

I glance away and look back at the little timer on the screen of the GPS: 1 hour: 17 minutes remaining. The ticking time sets me on edge, and I find my tense brain unable to focus on anything but the impending meeting.

I wonder what my dad is like. Is he tall, short, fat, skinny? Does he wear glasses? Does he keep his hair long like I do? Has he gone bald? Was he dyslexic or ADHD? Is he smart? Is he Annabeth smart or Malcolm smart? Is he a good guy? Is he a doctor or a lawyer or a teacher? Does he work at McDonald's? Is he tech savvy? My eyes flick back to the timer: 1 hour: 11 minutes remaining.

1 hour: 7 minutes. Is he rich? Poor? Somewhere in the middle?

1 hour: 4 minutes. Is he married?

59 minutes. Does he have other kids?

57 minutes. Does he want to meet me?

53 minutes. Why hasn't he ever tried to reach me?

47 minutes. Did he forget I existed?

43 minutes. Does he remember my mom?

39 minutes. Will he recognize me?

37 minutes. Is he dead?

35 minutes. How much has he changed?

31 minutes. Does he regret having me?

"Percy!" Annabeth's voice drags me out of my hazy head space. I turn towards her and stop short. She had pulled herself closer, so now her chin is just about resting on the bench seat. "You okay?" She asks, her voice softer now that she sees that I'm listening.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just thinking." Annabeth nods sympathetically, and seems to get that I'm not in the mood to talk. She leans back into her seat, and then glances down at her bag. It takes me a moment to notice the silver phone glinting in the sunlight. Something about it unsettles me, and it takes me a moment to remember why. The first day on the road, we had practically snarled at each other when she got that text from Luke. I got paranoid, thinking that there was no way she had chosen to prioritize her promise to me over her friendship with Luke. I was wrong, but my suspicion hadn't gone over well all the same.

"Hey, Annabeth have you heard from Luke?" I ask, trying to force my tone to sound casual and my posture to seem nonchalant. Grover shoots me a look out of the corner of his eye, as if I just threw a rock at a German Shepherd and stuffed bacon down my shirt. The German Shepherd in question freezes, her figurative hackles rising straight up off the back of her neck.

"I haven't really checked my phone, you know, since Malcolm told us it was best to keep them off once we left the state." She pushes a strand of hair behind her ear, and then leans back in her seat, feigning the same nonchalance I'm attempting to exude. Her eyes are what give her away, instead of predatory anger, they only contain sadness and a small amount of shame. For what, I have no idea, but I can only hope it doesn't concern me. "I mean, I knew he was texting me before, and he might have again later, but I can't really respond yet. I'll just handle it when we get back." Grover meets her eyes through the rearview mirror, possibly to warn her that she's rambling.

"Yeah," I muse in agreement, putting her out of her misery, before continuing. "It's weird being completely out of contact with everyone at home." Annabeth seems relieved that I cut her off and nods.

"It's definitely a good feeling though," She grins, and when I raise an eyebrow at her, she shrugs, "Being out of Remington is like breathing fresh air for the first time." Her face is positively ecstatic, and she takes a deep breath as if to solidify her point.

"You really hate that town, huh?" I ask, it takes a great deal of aversion to jump on board with a semi-insane cross-country road trip. She shrugs and lets her feet drop on the floor of the back seat.

"It has its charm," She defends it, and I remember her sticking up for small town life when I compared it to New York that very first week. "But if you're trapped in it all the time… it turns into a fishbowl."

Grover nods in agreement, and then silence seems to fill the air as I let myself slip back into my thoughts.

19 minutes.

A/N: Big question for you all, I'm personally not a fan, but Lukabeth fanfics, yay or nay?