"It is a curious thought, but it is only when you see people looking ridiculous that you realise just how much you love them." –Agatha Christie.

Marisol stormed into her cabin like a shaky mess of tears and fell onto her sleeping bag. Her brother had been at the cabin's entrance, and when he'd tried to ask what had happened, she'd held up a hand. She was so not ready to talk about it. Aunt Lou's son, Daniel, who was fifteen, sat next to her crying corpse on the floor.

"Soul, you okay?" He asked, brushing her hair. He was such a sweet guy, just like Martin usually was. She felt her heart shatter.

"I just need to be alone, okay?" Marisol said, her voice muffled against the pillow.

"Okay. Just call me if you need anything." He offered, and she nodded. She was now alone. When she woke up, she noticed she had fallen asleep. Fuck. Maybe she'd missed some lesson. She turned around to discover Evan lying on the sleeping bag next to hers.

"Hello, sleeping beauty." He mocked her.

"Hi, Evan." Her voice was soft and weak.

"Come on, don't let it tear you apart." He tried to cheer her up. But you do know I can't act like nothing happened, don't you? Someone knocked on the door, and when the door opened, they saw Kristin walk in. Marisol sat up and bolted up the sleeping bag and fell into Kristin's arms. Kristin patted her back.

"It's okay, Marie. It's okay." Her sweet voice had a truly calming effect. Kristin, being a daughter of Apollo, had inherited an angelical voice. "Tell me what happened." They sat on Marisol's bed. Evan to one side, Kristin to the other. She later realised that that was the first time in days Evan and Kristin sat together in the same room.

"And he doesn't like me!" Marisol finished her story, beginning to cry again, collapsing into her friends' gentle arms. They were a good team, Evan doing the listening, Kristin the talk.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure, sweetie. I believe Martin might like you, but he's so blindfolded by his crush on Giselle he hasn't noticed yet. I might be wrong, but I think Martin may like you even more than he likes Giselle. His feelings simply don't match the feelings he has for Giselle and he discards them as romantic. Chill out, move on, and concentrate in other things. If he needs a friend, and you feel like it, be it." Kristin told her.

"But don't beg, don't crawl." Evan added. Marisol nodded and dried her tears with the back of her hands.

"Let's hope it doesn't take him too long to realise he likes me." Marisol said. "I like him a lot, but I'm not going to wait forever."

"That's the spirit, Marie." Kristin smiled.

"And?" Evan gave her a complicit look.

"Do you mean...?" Marisol asked.

"Yes."

"Of course. I'll have the pleasure to tell that Barbie doll to stay away from Martin."

"You shouldn't encourage her to do such stuff." Kristin told Evan, frowning.

"Come on, K, it'll be fun. Plus, she needs it. Telling people to back off is always a good way to free tensions." Kristin sighed and Marisol grinned with grim amusement in Evan's direction. They were going to have some fun.

Sebastián had seen Marisol ran into her cabin, and his stubborn sister hadn't wanted to tell him what was it that had made her upset. Of course, he already knew. It was the same look in her face she'd had when Henry broke up with her. When one of her jerks of boyfriends had slapped her for talking to one of her friends. He couldn't understand what it was with heartbreak that his sister enjoyed it so much. Because, at least, she didn't look like she was trying to avoid it. Sebastián already knew where to go and who to sucker punch. He knew who had to give him some answers, and in some ways, it troubled him it had to be Martin Windflowers.

Sebastián was nineteen years old, this was his last summer at Camp Half-Blood and he had known Martin for quite a while. They weren't the best of friends, but he knew Martin was a decent guy and they'd helped each other a few times. Better said, Martin'd helped him a few times.

"You shouldn't do it that way." Ten-year-old Martin told an eleven-year-old Sebastián. Sebastián had look suspiciously at the tiny boy whose amber eyes observed him with curiosity. How could he know the best way to move the canoe around the lake? The boy talking to him was evidently younger. Sebastián back then had a big ego and forgot the fact that it was his first summer at camp. He did it his way, and the canoe turned around. Eleven-year-old soaked up Sebastián had to, then, swallow his pride and ask the little boy for help.

"How should I do it?" The boy smiled gently.

"You steer like this... yeah. It's patience, not rush." Sebastián got the hang of it.

"Thank you. I'm Sebastián."

"I'm Martin."

He had chosen to believe Martin when he told him he didn't have any intentions of getting involved romantically with Marisol.

"I'm interested in another girl." He assured him. Martin was so tall now, it was hard to believe he was the same little boy who'd taught him how to steer a canoe.

"Okay, I believe you." He said. "But be careful. I won't like it if I have to come to talk to you again because you hurt her." Martin'd shrugged.

"Do you think it is wise to believe you can protect your sister forever this way?" He hadn't meant to be rude, or mean; only curious.

"I do what I can. You don't know Marisol the way I do. You haven't seen her cry over a broken heart." Martin hadn't seen her cry, alright, but by the pained expression Sebastián had made, he could almost imagine what it was like to see Marisol cry. He didn't like it.

"I promise you I'll do my best to keep her safe as well."

You didn't keep your promise, Windflowers, Sebastián blamed him in his mind. He couldn't help to think of the inevitability of unrequited love, the cruelty yet unintentionally sweetness of it, how Martin not wanting to hurt Marisol didn't mean she wouldn't get hurt. It wasn't in Martin's hands not to make Marisol like him. Sebastián was looking for someone to blame, and Martin was just there, cutting the weeds away from his flowers. Couldn't you take care of my sister like that? You promised, and I believed you. Sebastián walked up to Martin, and didn't punch him, didn't yell at him, he just spilled the words like poison, to let him know they were through. That Marisol was through. It's all over after she cries.

"You hurt her." He blamed Martin, he told Martin. And Martin turned around, confused but realising what he'd done, and it wasn't supposed to matter, because he liked another girl, yet he now couldn't think of anything that wasn't Marisol and the way she'd left him that day.

"I never wanted to." He told Sebastián, but he was no longer there, it was just him and his flowers and he couldn't help to think of how it was a lot quieter and lonelier now Marisol wasn't there to annoy him. You asked me why would you ever do it, he thought. Why would you ever make this more complicated, Marisol? He tried to wave the idea away, but it was inevitable. The idea of hurting Marisol haunted him, and the blue sky did no longer remind him of Giselle's eyes, but of the way the sky was reflected on Marisol's dark eyes. How her smile seemed to shine like the sun that made that one a fine day.

"Di immortales, Marisol."

There's no easy way to tell a girl to stay away from a boy who's not your boyfriend. You are not entitled to act possessive about what's not yours. Even so, Evan had convinced Marisol it was a good idea to go yell at Giselle. Of course, it was easier to say so than to do so, but she was already standing in front of cabin ten, and turning back would only make a coward of her and Marisol Valdez was many things, but not a coward. She knocked on the door, and a very handsome guy opened it. The petulant expression he had made it easy for Marisol to think of him as an idiot.

"Hi, is Giselle here?" She asked dryly. Kristin behind her took a deep breath. Evan murmured something to her.

"Don't be such a girl, Kris." The boy rolled his eyes and turned his head.

"Giselle, a girl is looking for you!" He turned back to Marisol, checked her army vest jacket and winced. "Honey, if you're here for a fashion advice I can help you just as well as Giselle." A giggle from Evan. Marisol glared at him, and Kristin elbowed him.

"I am a girl, Ricks." Kristin whispered back to him.

"I am not here for a fashion advice, thanks." She told the son of Aphrodite, and sighed.

"You wish you were, then." That's when Giselle finally showed herself. Marisol was, for incredible that it may sound, relieved to see her.

"Hello, Park." Marisol said. Giselle made a disgusted expression, like she'd just encountered a cockroach.

"You were...?"

"Marisol." Marisol spat, aggressively.

"Marisol, right; what do you want?" Kristin and Evan were there for her, for moral support. She had to do it.

"I want you to quit messing with Martín." She actually thought Giselle would laugh at her like a cold-hearted bitch, but instead, she shook her head solemnly.

"I'm sorry, Marisol, but I'm not messing with Martin." Marisol felt something change place inside her. Maybe her heart had changed places with her liver. It felt like that.

"Why? Why would you go for Martín? You could have any guy you wanted, why him?"

"Do you know how unprecedented guys like him are? They are very unprecedented, alright. I don't want to waste my chances in love with stupid guys just because I can. I might have a better shot at love but, why toss away what can be good and nice for me?" She made good sense, perfect sense. That hurt Marisol even more.

"Because the girls like you have a shot at fixing a bad boy. I only have a chance if I get myself a guy who can treat me right. Don't you understand? You can make any boy a good guy. I need one that's already a good guy, I need Martín." Giselle had acted a bit mean when they'd first met, but she looked sincerely sorry for her now. Obviously, she was an unwanted rival, but now she was losing, Giselle seemed to recognise and pity her situation.

"I'm really sorry, Marisol, I mean it. But if I have a chance with Martin, I'm not throwing that away. Not for you, nor anyone else." Marisol wanted to slap her but, really, if Martin liked her, there was nothing she could do to undo that. She felt like crying, but she didn't want to cry in front of Giselle. Unrequited love is a bitch, she thought. Another part of her thoughts differed. Hasn't requited love been a bigger bitch to you?

Martin walked up to the Aphrodite cabin after pacing back and forth a couple hundred times. It had taken him a few torturous minutes after Sebastián had talked to him to decide he had to clear his mind. And what better to clear confusion than going to the source of the problem. He resolved to go pay Giselle a visit. It had surprised him to arrive to a most uncommon scene. There she was. There they were, both of them. Marisol with her hands in fists, and Giselle standing in the doorway, looking at Marisol with a pitiful expression. Giselle looked especially beautiful, but what took the air out of Martin's lungs was the way Marisol looked so sad. She'd always been such a cheerful person.

"Marisol?" He called her. Marisol turned to look at him but, with her eyes, three other pairs of eyes stopped on him. Kris's were sorry, Evan's looked like he wanted to vaporise him and Giselle's looked surprised.

"I don't want to talk to you right now." Marisol told him. Sebastián had probably already gone to talk to him. The probabilities were Martin already knew he'd broken her heart.

"Come on, Marisol, I don't know what I did to make you mad, explain to me at least."

"Just leave me alone, Windflowers." Her eyes left his face and she retreated. She couldn't stand to see him right then, and thought it best to walk away.

"Keep in mind what I told you." She said to Giselle before leaving.

"So, why are you here?" Giselle asked Martin, completely conscious of the fact that Martin had ignored her in favour of Marisol.

"I... I don't remember." He actually did remember. He'd gone there to verify he still liked Giselle, and he wanted to bet the game to her. The problem was, he had found his answer, but it didn't make things any less confusing. He did like Giselle. The problem was he was starting to think that maybe there was someone he cared for more than he did for Giselle, and the thought made him uneasy. Because he'd blown it all up with that other person, and might not have a chance. And he was the good guy; he didn't know how to be the villain, or how to go back to being the hero.

"Did you want to talk to me?" Giselle asked.

"Yeah, I—"

"Good," she interrupted him. "I also want to talk to you." Martin was startled. He no longer knew what to say next. He was a mess. Telling her he didn't like her wasn't accurate, but telling her he did wasn't it either.

"Do you?" He said, at last.

"Yes. I know this might be troubling, since you already have that Marisol girl so into you but—" Giselle knew from what had just happened this was her only shot. If she waited any longer, Martin would elude her, and she would've lost him.

"Excuse me?" Martin was absolutely perplexed. He wasn't expecting this. He was planning on being sincere. About how he'd admired her for her kindness and beauty, but how someone else had crept into his mind without him even noticing and had usurped the place he'd intended to give her. He hadn't been expecting her having to trouble him. He hadn't been expecting Giselle to tell her something so crazy like Marisol liking him. Why would Marisol like him? Marisol aimed for badass guys who could make some competition for her in sword skills class. She didn't aim for guys who spent great part of the day watering plants.

"You know, the bronze skinned girl, with curly black hair and threatening dark eyes; she, who practises with you in sword skills class and is all the time around you; she, who so obviously yet so hopelessly likes you." Martin knew who Giselle was talking about. But he couldn't quite make sense of what she was saying. He knew Marisol's bronze skin, the way it shone under sunlight, they way it looked slightly darker at night, the way the shadows played over it when she stood in front of the campfire. He knew Marisol's curly black hair, the way it fell when she tied it up in a ponytail she barely ever undid. He also knew how it made her face looks change; the few times she let it fall freely. He knew her dark almond eyes, yet he didn't find them threatening at all. He thought they were warm and welcoming, smart and joyful.

What Martin didn't know was that Marisol liked him; like, really liked him. His heart began pounding faster. Suddenly all the flirting and the teasing made sense. Suddenly all the pieces fell on its right place and he felt like such an idiot. Of course she liked him. He just hadn't been smart enough to notice so. Why Sebastián would have talked to him if not? If Marisol had no real interest in him, then he was no threat. If Marisol had no real interest in him, he couldn't have hurt her.

"What did you want to tell me, then?" Martin asked Giselle, to avoid being impolite, yet his mind was everywhere but there.

"I like you, Martin." Martin's eyes widened. His life's dream had come true and he didn't feel any better. It was all wrong, because Giselle hadn't been the one who'd stolen his heart for good. Everything span around him when the truth left his lips, the words controlling themselves, showing how he felt before he could know about it himself.

"I'm sorry, Giselle." He spat. He'd said he was sorry but, was he?

"But I thought—" She'd already known, though. She'd just been hopeful.

"I thought so too, but I like someone else more than I like you." Giselle lowered her eyes and Martin finally understood why he'd said he was sorry for her. He'd broken her heart. He couldn't help but to feel guilty, although he knew it was nobody's fault. "I guess I'll see you around."

"Yeah." Giselle entered her cabin and disappeared behind the door.

It was more difficult than he had expected it to be. Getting Marisol to talk to him again was the most difficult thing he'd done since forever. Telling her how he felt about her seemed like wishful thinking, now talking to her was nearly impossible. Even more, she made it her personal mission to take him down in the most humiliating ways during sword skills lessons. He had brief moments of resistance, when she would smile defiantly and he would believe everything was fine again. Yet when he lay on the ground, the sharp edge of her blade caressing dreadfully his neck, anger shone again in her eyes and she walked away. He'd tried to approach her countless times.

"Marisol!" He'd called her once after swords skills class. She was polishing her sword, and she was not sweating a bit. She looked oddly perfect, and Martin decided he'd never appreciated her good looks before, or coming to the realisation that he liked her made her automatically perfect. Maybe both were correct.

"Leave me alone, Windflowers."

"What you're doing isn't fair, Valdez." He'd sighed, tired and anxious to get her to talk to him.

"Is it fair the way you want me to feel guilty for what you did?" He couldn't make a good defence to that argument without letting her know that he knew that she, at least, used to like him. And telling her so was a dick move.

"I already told you I don't know what I did! I'm just asking you to forgive me, whatever it was."

"Figure it out yourself." She'd told him, walking away, not turning back when he called out to her again. Marisol was avoiding him, so his plan was getting her to be unable to do so. His chance came that Friday, during capture the flag.

Martin and Marisol were in opposite teams, and it was Martin's job to lure people into jail. He'd gotten a bit better with his sword, so he was actually given strategic missions. He knew exactly who to lure, and the best part was that most people would actually agree with him. Marisol was fast and soundless around the woods, and she knew no one could take her down, she knew she was unstoppable. She heard a crack from some tree nearby and turned around to check it out. Nothing. A little cry left her lips when she lifted her foot to continue her way, and she noticed a creeper had tangled itself around her uncle. She looked up to find Martin staring down at her.

"Let me go!" She said, furious, but she knew it was hopeless to fight the creeper.

"I believe you're trapped and I can take you to jail now, so I won't let you go." He pointed out. At least now we're talking about something, he thought.

"I still have my sword. Now, let me go!" She didn't hold his gaze, and he thought maybe he might stand a chance. The creeper grew and tied itself around Marisol's wrist, making her grip loose around her sword's hilt. The blade fell with a flat noise.

"Now you don't" he sighed. "Marisol, whatever I did to you, I'm sorry." He knew what he'd done to her, but he didn't want to be a jerk, telling her how she was mad because she was heartbroken.

"You can take me to jail, but shut up, Windflowers." She was aware he was truly sorry, and that she was being unfair. She'd agreed she would be her friend if she felt like it to Kristin, but she just couldn't feel like it. She was angry, mostly at herself, but she took it on Martin. She was angry because she'd sworn not to fall for any guys that summer and she'd broken her oath just because she thought it was safe. Who was she to say who's safe to date and who isn't?

"Marisol, I have something to tell you." He made a pause, not wanting to tell her if she wasn't going to listen. She sighed and rolled her eyes, giving up. She was stuck there anyways, and her resignation was welcomed as an acceptance. "I miss you; I want to talk to you." It was difficult enough having to tell her how much he missed their friendship. He'd had enough training, though, trying to get her to talk to him every single time he encountered her, no matter when or where.

"Why don't you go talk to Giselle instead? I bet your little girlfriend will be pleased to hear you out." Martin shook his head.

"She ain't my girlfriend. And I don't need to talk to her; I need to talk to you." Finally she gave him a expression he recognised. Disbelief. She didn't believe Giselle and him weren't together.

"Leave me alone. Take me to jail and go take care of your azaleas, do whatever you want, I don't care. Just— go away." She knows of my azaleas, his mind echoed. How was he supposed to move on from her when she'd deliberately decided to make him like her? When she'd succeeded so brilliantly at it that she kept making him feel she knew him like no one else? He decided it was no use to keep doing what he was doing, so he let out a defeat sigh and walked up to Marisol, getting rid of the couple metres which separated them. He leaned over her, removing her helmet, to kiss her cheek gently. Marisol blushed violently, the way she did every single thing. Surprise flamed in her gaze, and Martin put her helmet back on her head again, and stepped back. The helmet, as usual was a size or two too big for her, which made her look cute, not like someone who could put you in the ground with a stroke of her sword.

"What the Hades was that?" She asked, lifting her free hand to caress her cheek under the helmet, there were Martin's lips had been a second ago.

"An apology." He said, and walked away, the creepers loosening and letting her free and alone in the middle of the forest. Curse you, Martin Windflowers, she thought. Curse you.

"Windflowers!" She yelled with all she had. He appeared a second later, breathing heavily, showing he had run his fastest to get back to her. She couldn't help but smile. He'd won.

"Okay. I forgive you, on one condition. And you have to stop following me like an abandoned puppy, it's sad." A wide smile formed on his lips.

"As you wish, Marisol. Which condition?"

"I get a kiss." Martin's heart skipped a beat. When he'd gone against all he knew of life to kiss her on the cheek, her skin had felt so warm and soft under his lips. And he'd wondered what would it feel like to kiss her on the lips. Wild thought, I know.

"Are you kidding me?" He had to ask. Marisol's grin appeared immediately.

"Of course I'm kidding, dummy. You're not getting any close to kissing this pair of lips as far as I'm concerned." He let go of a fake laugh. Seriously, why did Giselle think Marisol was after him? Yet, then again, it made sense. She was just very good at hiding how she felt... if she still felt that way. There was a possibility she'd moved on. Maybe it wasn't such a miracle she'd forgiven him, after all. Even so, he didn't want to push his luck; but he did. The creepers tied themselves around her again. "I'm sorry, I believe I almost let a prisoner escape, silly me." She sighed as she rolled her eyes at him.

"Don't I get a free pass ticket or something for agreeing to talk to you again?" Martin made a thoughtful face.

"I don't think so."

"May I get to kiss you now?" She teased, a bit insecure whether it was too soon to begin use the same tactic twice. It may have also been too soon to restart the teasing. Apparently it was fine, because he didn't tell it was too soon. In fact, it was odd, because for the first time ever, Martin didn't complain; he didn't say anything at all. He was thinking how unfair it was that now he might agree to her capricious requests, she no longer wanted him to bend to her will.

They were walking to the jail when Marisol stopped abruptly and made a sign to Martin to keep quiet. Not so far away from them, Kristin was arguing with Evan. The argument seemed pretty serious, and they didn't seem to notice they still were in the middle of the game. Marisol waited, in absolute silence, keeping her index finger on Martin's lips to instruct him to keep quiet. He did not even flinch, just leaned over her shoulder to see the same scene she was staring at.

"I don't know what did I do to you, seriously!" Kristin yelled. Marisol didn't think she'd ever seen Kristin yell at anyone before.

"It isn't you, K, I just need to think about it, okay? I'm not sure..." Evan looked like he couldn't get the right words.

"You're not sure about what? About what, Ricks? You don't get to ditch me, I'm your freaking friend, you know! You owe me–" Evan held her face between his hands. Marisol got that feeling of weird déjà vu, when you don't exactly feel you've already been somewhere or done something, but you know exactly how the current events are going to turn out.

"I'm not sure I want you to be my friend, K, that's my problem. I'm not sure how I feel about you, so if you could just shut up and give me some time to make up my mind I could keep myself from messing it all up."

"How could you possibly mess it up, Ricks?" She was trembling. Kristin was trembling and Marisol felt like she might start to tremble as well.

"I could mess up by telling you things like these without being clear about them." Kristin opened her mouth to say something, but she was speechless. Evan just held her face in his hands and stared into Kristin's dark eyes. There was only silence and Marisol, getting impatient.

"Cut the crap, Evan! You like her, so for the love of Hestia, kiss her already!" Their eyes drifted to meet Marisol's and her mocking smirk. They didn't mention it, but they did notice Martin standing behind her. They laughed nervously.

"It'll be as you say, boss." Evan obliged, and pulled Kristin into a deep kiss she answered happily. Marisol pulled Martin away from the scene towards the jail.

"Well, that was a bit awkward, but also quite nice." Martin laughed nervously. How close had he been to do the same thing as Evan a few minutes ago?

"Do you think it'll last?"

"Well, Evan's a jerk when he wants to, and apparently Kris has quite an unknown character, so I'd say it'll be rough, but they should be okay."

"Do you think we'll be okay?" Marisol thought he was kidding, but the look in his face was dead serious.

"Of course, pretty boy. You'll be my new best friend; now my two previous ones have decided to make of me a third wheel."

"That I can do, alright." I'm not sure if I'll be happy being just your best friend forever, though, his mind told her.

Then on, Martin would try to speak his mind, but Marisol would tease him as always, making him blush and shut up. This change did not pass unnoticed to Marisol, but she wouldn't let her hopes up. They hadn't talked about what she had been angry about and, anyways, Marisol didn't want to get hurt anymore. She was going to just let things be. The problem was that, sometimes, things got a bit awkward.

"Uh, I'm sorry." He'd apologised to her when he'd bumped into her after dinner. Marisol had just smiled shyly and shrugged.

"It's okay." There was this awkward silence which sometimes decided to make them company. "Where are you headed to?"

"The armoury."

"Oh, I'm going there too." Sigh.

"Cool."

"Yeah, cool." When they'd reached the armoury, Martin tried to open the door for her, and Marisol attempted to open it by herself, making Martin's hand closed around Marisol's which was on the doorknob. She couldn't help to think of how big and soft Martin's hands were. Hades, I can't go on like this, they both thought as they clumsily offered each other to enter first.

"You go first." Martin said, immediately.

"No, it's okay, you go first."

"Come on; let me be the gentleman, you go first."

"Okay." She murmured, and walked inside the armoury. They got out of there as quick as they could afterwards.

It wasn't usually that awkward between them all the time, but there were occasions. Like once after campfire. They'd been talking the entire campfire about how Evan hadn't been able to look at anything but at Kristin as she helped with the sing-along, and they'd ended up sitting by the fire, watching the flames dance from one colour to another.

"Evan is really pathetic. He's like a snail man." Martin chuckled.

"A snail man?"

"Yeah, he drools and he drags himself after her." Martin laughed quite hard, though it wasn't polite to laugh at others and he felt bad for it.

"That's not good for you to say about your friend."

"But it's the truth. My brother's a snail man too." Martin swallowed back the laughter this time.

"So, what now? If a guy looks abstracted from the world staring at the girl he likes when she's being amazing, that's a bad thing?"

"It depends. If you're my friend or my brother, it is. Because I'm entitled to make fun of all the pathetic things they do for love." Martin shook his head, amused.

"If I ever do so, you'll call me snail man as well?" Marisol giggled then. Her dark, warm eyes caught Martin's golden ones, and she stared for a second.

"It depends again, on who you date." What if I dated you? He asked in his mind, but didn't find the courage to ask her for real. What would she do if he told her? If he told her that she was a picture in every flower he took care of, and that the more time he spent with her, the more he felt like he should hold her hand, because her hand looked just so lonely. He was afraid that now he'd retrieved her friendship, she'd moved on and he'd stayed in the past, in the Marisol who was after him. If he messed up, and lost her, he'd feel really blue. He hadn't said no to Giselle to be this afraid, though. She deserved better from him since his rejection. She deserved to lose to a victory, not to lose to a lost.

"What if I dated you?" He asked, unable to believe the words had left his lips. Marisol blinked, and Martin noticed how long her eyelashes were.

"Like that could ever happen." She laughed, his heart shattered a bit. "But, if you dated me, I'd expect you to stare at me all the time. Not just when I'm being amazing." He made half a smile, his heart trembling the way hearts do when Eros's arrow wounds you out of the blue.

"That sounds a bit difficult to do, since you are amazing all the time, how could anyone find a time to look at you when you're not being extraordinary if it doesn't exist?" She punched him lightly in the arm. Truth was she'd forgotten to breath and wanted for it to go unnoticed.

"Come on, pretty boy. Enough flirting, I don't know who are you practising for, but if you keep listing my qualities that way, I'll think I'm perfect and I'll be even more annoying than I already am. So, it's getting late, shall I walk thee till thy cabin, sire?" Martin cackled, and got up, offering his hand for her to stand up. "Why, thank thee, fine sire." She walked by his side until his cabin, which was closer than hers.

"Shouldn't I accompany you to your cabin instead?"

"Aw, come on, Martín, I'm a big girl and camp's not that dangerous. I can make it to my cabin on my own. You, on the other hand... well, I'd prefer it for you to go everywhere accompanied."

"By whom?" She was beautiful in the dark, as well as in the light. She'd got him, that was for sure.

"That's for you to find out. Good night, Martín." She jumped to kiss him on the cheek, too short for doing it without having to lift her feet from the ground. Martin'd just decided to look away from her for a second, to take a break from her beauty and that bubbly sensation she gave him. He turned his head, just when her lips were about to kiss his cheek, and as a result, her lips smacked his own lips. Like in slow motion, they saw each other's eyes; they felt how their lips touched, and how Marisol slowly descended back to ground level.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to–" Martin nodded, nervous. There weren't butterflies in his stomach, there were little lions, scratching and biting his insides. Making him hesitate and take a deep breath and think how nice it would be to repeat what had just happened. But he was a gentleman, and a gentleman always does the right thing.

"It's okay Marisol, it was my fault. Let's not make a big deal of it, okay?" She let the air out of her lungs in a deep sigh of relief. She didn't want for things with Martin to turn awkward. She liked him, but she was fine if they could only be friends. She was okay as long as she could stay by his side.

"Thanks, you're the best. Sleep tight!" She said, before walking away, and Martin bit his lips. What was I thinking? It is already a big deal to me. But he didn't want to worry her, and he wasn't sure where she stood. She'd seemed pretty relieved to not make a big deal of it, though. Maybe he was right; maybe Marisol Valdez had moved on from Martin Windflowers, the snail man, who stared pathetically at her until her silhouette was no longer distinct from the shadows.

"Are you sure you don't have my shirt?" He asked once after dinner, when she'd come up to him right after finishing her meal.

"Once again, why would I?" She rolled her eyes, just a bit guilty for lying. He decided he wasn't going to get a favourable answer this time neither, so he moved on.

"Why are you here anyways? I mean, you used to hang out with Kristin and Evan after dinner, didn't you?" Marisol winced.

"They are in plain can't-get-enough-of-you phase so it just feels awkward to hang around with them because when you're not there, they're making out, and when you happen to be there, they imagine they're making out, which is equally disgusting." She complained.

"They're?" He had thought them shyer.

"Yes. I mean, I'm happy for them, but for Aphrodite's sake, they could take it a little easier." She lifted her eyes to the sky, as if for saying 'Why?!' to the gods.

"So you have no plans." He deduced.

"No, just watching you water your cabin's flowers."

"How do you—?" He narrowed his eyes.

"I declare myself guilty of stalking. In my defence, I didn't know you were into Park back then." She said before she took notice of what she was saying.

"I see." He said absent-mindedly. They were near his cabin then, and Martin began looking for his watering can.

"I'm sorry." Marisol, after giving it some thought, had concluded if Martin didn't date Giselle, was due to Giselle had probably rejected him. So she believed it might still be kind of a sore topic.

"It's okay." He said, as he climbed over the roof.

"Can I ask why you never dated Giselle?" Martin looked at her over his shoulder, he smiled.

"Go ahead."

"Did she let you down because you are a great flower geek or—"

"Hey, that was rude." He complained.

"Sorry. But you know it's true." She grinned. "Anyways, did she, or didn't she?"

"No, she didn't." He admitted.

"Then why?" She was truly surprised, which kind of hit Martin's ego really hard.

"I rejected her." He told her, after a couple seconds of doubtful silence.

"You did what?! Why would you do so?"

"Because" and he turned around so he could face her, even if from the rooftop. "I realised I had somebody else in mind." Marisol felt how oxygen left her lungs and she stared for a couple Mississippi's before blushing and looking away. He clearly hadn't meant her, but she still wanted to believe so. It was no use, though, because Martin was her friend; just her friend.

"Who, me?" She teased, with a mocking smirk. Martin looked away.

"You wouldn't believe me even if I told you." He said, going back to water the flowers. She stayed silent for a while, watching the colours of sunset flurrying on his coppery brown hair. "Watch out." He called from the roof, dropping a flower, which she caught in the last moment. It was a brown flower, which seemed quite common. She looked up.

"Which kind of flower is this one?"

"It's a chocolate cosmos." He answered. "You may not know it, but chocolate cosmos are very rare flowers. In fact, the wild ones are believed to be extinct, the only existent specimens are cloned. That would be true, but the Demeter cabin holds the only non-cloned still alive chocolate cosmos in the world. Cool huh?" She look down at the flower. To her, it just looked like any other cosmos, except it was brown.

"You are such a flower nerd."

"Guilty as charged. That flower reminds me of you, though, so I thought you should have one." Marisol blushed.

"Why does it remind you of me?" He jumped off the roof, falling in front of her; falling for her.

"Because it looks like a common flower, like there's gazillions of flowers just like that one. Yet, then again, it's an extremely rare and endangered species." Silence floated between them, and they stared at each other for a while. Marisol was so nervous she did not know what to do. She'd never been told something so sweet and nice before. Martin really was one of a kind. One really cute and good guy. She cleared her throat.

"Uh, thanks." She managed to say, as that night played in the back of her head for the thousandth time. The jump, the kiss, the good night sleep.

"Don't mention it." Martin said, ideas fighting in his head. She looked so cute, nervous and blushed, that he felt the sudden urge of kissing her, which he'd only felt when he'd kissed her on the cheek to apologise, and when they'd kissed accidentally. The urge was stronger than ever, though. That one time he'd kissed her on the cheek without asking for permission had been rude enough for his taste, and he didn't think it polite to just go and kiss her now. Then again, he wanted to take her by surprise, which put him in a difficult situation. He turned around and went to fill his water can when he cursed under his breath.

"Di immortales" he murmured, dropped the watering can and went back to Marisol, who was playing with the flower between her fingers. Am I as special as this flower for real? He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye.

"I'm sorry, Marisol. Can I try something that might be impolite?" He asked. Marisol was so startled that she didn't even think what he might have wanted to do.

"Yeah, I guess." She shrugged, getting his hands off her shoulders in the act. She was beginning to wonder what Martin might want to do; beginning to wonder why was acting so strange, when she felt his hands on her cheeks and a second after his lips over hers. One, two. It took her brain two exact seconds to realise what was going on. She saw Martin's face blushing bright, so close to hers, his eyes shut with the intensity of nervousness. She closed her own eyes and kissed back, noticing how his lips were stiff and doubtful, even when he'd started the kiss. It suddenly struck her. What if...? She put her hands over his, and led the kiss to be slow and gentle. He pulled back to catch his breath.

"I'm sorry." Martin apologised. "It was rude, I shouldn't have—"

"Martín." She said, smiling so wide her cheeks hurt.

"I know, it would have been better if—" he seemed a bit panicky, which she only thought infinitely cute.

"Martín, listen to me." Her giggles got his attention, and he looked at her, anxious.

"What?" Marisol put her hands at both sides of his face, making him stare down into her eyes without being able to look away.

"It's okay. It really is." She said.

"You sure?" He asked, still a bit troubled for kissing her without her real permission; but he was starting to feel really, really happy. If Marisol liked him back, everything in the world was fine.

"You don't need permission to kiss me." Marisol smirked.

"I don't?" He was plainly confused.

"Do you need to ask a chocolate cosmos whether you can kiss it?" Martin thought about it, very serious.

"Well, it's a good question, the flower can't answer me, but I'm sure it'd prefer it if I—" Marisol rolled her eyes and jumped to kiss him briefly. Damn, she thought. I can't kiss him properly if he doesn't lean a bit.

"You don't need permission to kiss me." She assured him. "Now, can you get down here a bit, so I can kiss you properly?" Marisol pouted, clearly unhappy with the current situation.

"Sure." He said, absent-mindedly, unable to believe she'd welcomed him, just like that. She kissed him, and this time his lips were slightly softer, like he was beginning to get the hang of it. She was so happy she couldn't contain herself, and tried tipping her tongue on his lips, but he pulled away. Martin was so red she wanted to take a picture to remember that precise moment for eternity. She knew that was going to be forever her favourite shade of red.

"I'm sorry; it was just... a little bit too much." He apologised, but she limited herself to a chuckle.

"Is it just me or was it your first kiss that one a couple moments ago?" Martin flinched.

"Was it that bad?"

"No, pretty nice, actually. Just curious." He was a cutie and Marisol couldn't stand it anymore. "You know, Martin," and she was careful to pronounce his name properly, "I like you. I've liked you for quite a while and I don't think I'm going to be able to hide it anymore. In fact, I really, really like you. I like you a lot more than just 'a lot' and I don't care if I'm not making any sense here." Martin held her hands, still shaky from the kiss and everything. His chest was filled with a strange sensation, but he liked the way his lungs felt heavy and breathing felt like a miracle. Because it was an old tale, what many guys ditch for a hotter body, but he liked a girl, and that girl liked him. It was more than enough for him to be happy.

"I like you a lot more than just 'a lot', too." He smiled. "Would you be my girlfriend, Marisol?" Marisol went speechless. Do people still ask this? She thought lovestruck. She had only dated guys who kissed you and made you ask for the names and such. Sometimes they were over the 'childish' cliché of 'labelling' relationships.

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"You quit calling me Marisol and find a nickname to call me by. I get tired of people calling me by my full name all the time, they're wearing it down. Boring." Martin let go of the air he'd been retaining. He'd feared something worse.

"I guess I can manage—"

"Marie is not an option."

"Shoot." He thought about it for a while. "What about Aster?"

"Aster?"

"A flower made out of the tears of the goddess Asterea, who cried because she saw no stars when looking upon the Earth. They are meant to be stars for us who can't touch the sky." He blurted out, and flushed a second later. "Gee, that was a really gooey thing to say, wasn't it?" Marisol nodded, pursing her lips in a 'Sadly' expression.

"Too bad I like it, so you'll have to use it, Martín."

"Will you ever quit calling me that?" He whined.

"Of course not. I like it and it bothers you, which makes it the perfect nickname. Would you prefer snail man?" Martin snapped his tongue.

"I think I'll stay with Martín" he agreed. "And I'm not going to be a snail man. I'll be a strong-willed boyfriend."

"Huh, I'd like to see that." She mocked him.

"Go fetch me some food, woman." He tried to make his best impression of a rude, bad man. Marisol cracked up.

"Sure, Mr. Badass." She said between laughs. "You should just stay as a sweet flower geek. Bad boy doesn't fit you, really." Martin pouted, but decided it was a good thing she liked him better the way he was. Marisol's expression drifted to one of concern.

"I have to tell you something before we can go on as a couple." She sounded dead serious, and Martin worried.

"What?" His amber eyes were full of concern and Marisol felt a pinch of guilt for playing him like that.

"I did take your shirt." She said, smiling guiltily.

"I knew it!" Martin exclaimed with relief. "So, when can I have it back?"

"Never. I'm sorry, but it's my shirt now. I sincerely think it better for you to get another one."

"But what would you want my shirt for? Wait. Did you sleep with—?"

"That's none of your business!" Marisol looked away.

"Of course it is. It's my shirt!" He walked around so he could meet her eyes again. "Did you sleep with it?"

"My lips are sealed."

"But did you?"

"Won't answer."

"Oh my gods, you did."

"You'll never be certain."

"Yes, you did."

"It's a possibility."

"I can't believe my girlfriend steals shirts so she can sleep with them, I feel harassed." He made a threatened expression.

"Think what you want." She said, faking anger. She lifted her chin, and shut her eyes as she pouted.

"Don't get mad, I was just messing with you." Marisol peeked with one of her eyes and saw Martin doing puppy eyes.

"Why are you so adorable?" She wanted to know, exasperated by his cuteness, messing his hair and pulling his face down so she could kiss the charm out of him.