Annabeth strides down the hallway, guilt coiling in her gut. She sort of feels shitty about being such a jerk to Percy. He was clearly upset and her snippiness couldn't have helped, but she's upset too, dammit, and it felt good to channel her hurt into aggression for a few minutes. Now it's all swirling inside of her and it's too much.

Rachel is in one of the art rooms and when Annabeth bursts into the studio, she looks up. As soon as she sees Annabeth's face, she practically runs over.

"Beth? Are you okay?"

"It's Luke, he…I...I saw him kissing Drew, and—" she can't talk anymore, the tears are coming too quickly.

Luke is her perfect boyfriend, everything she ever could've wanted. He checks all her boxes, texts her every day to tell her how much he loves her, says they'll be the one percent of high school sweethearts who last. But can they even go on after this?

Rachel wraps her arms around Annabeth and leads her away from the art studio. Emotions wash over Annabeth in waves; every time the hurt ebbs, it comes back to hit her ten times harder.

She must look ridiculous, sobbing into Rachel's denim jacket in the middle of the hallway. "I can't...I can't believe he would—it isn't like him!"

Rachel rubs Annabeth's back soothingly. "He's such a dick, Annabeth," she murmurs, "You didn't deserve this."

Luke loves her. Just last week, they went on a candlelit dinner date, got wine drunk, and Lady-and-the-Tramp-kissed over a shared bowl of spaghetti! They are the epitome of first love, the stuff romantic comedies are made of. Their happily ever after practically wrote itself.

But Luke went and ripped those pages out of the storybook.

Tears well up in Annabeth's eyes again and spill onto her cheeks. "He cheated on me, Rach," she says, hoarse. "Was I not enough for him?"

Rachel grabs Annabeth by the shoulders and tilts her chin upwards. Annabeth swallows thickly.

"Do not let Luke make you feel like shit. He should be the one feeling shitty for kissing another girl." Rachel's voice comes out steely, hard. Annabeth's pretty sure she's never seen Rachel, who almost always keeps her cool, so red and angry.

Annabeth is angry too, so angry. The fury licks at her insides, white-hot, but underneath that, she just feels pathetic. Even after all this, she still loves him. She loves him so much. This can't be the way the story ends.

She knows she's an absolute fool, a lovesick fool, but she would forgive Luke. This has to be some kind of mistake. They'll be able to work through this. They have to. They can write their own ending.

The bitterness slowly dissipates until Annabeth manages to get the crying under control. She wipes her eyes with the backs of her hands and takes a shuddering breath.

Rachel is clenching her fists. "I'll destroy him, Bethy," she says. "Give the word and I'll beat him up."

Annabeth squares her shoulders. That anger from before pumps through her veins. She wants an explanation. She's going to fix this.

"No, Luke and I are going to have a talk."


Luke is sitting on a bench in the courtyard surrounded by his friends. When Annabeth approaches, the whole group goes silent.

"Oh shit, your girlfriend looks pissed," one of the guys mutters.

Annabeth steps in front of Luke, arms crossed, all traces of her mini breakdown scrubbed away. "We need to talk," she says.

"Can it wait?" Luke asks, frowning.

Annabeth lowers her voice so only Luke can hear. She forces herself to make unwavering eye contact, even though the last thing she wants to do is stare into those crystalline blue eyes. "It's about Drew."

Luke's face drains of color. He quickly gets up, grabs her by the wrist, and tugs her over to the far side of the courtyard, by the insect-swarmed garbage cans. Annabeth grimaces at the smell.

"Look, I didn't mean for you to find out this way, I swear."

"Then how did you mean for me to find out?"

Luke drags his hands through his hair. "Annabeth, I can't help it…I've fallen in love with her."

What kind of bullshit is he trying to pull? She's the one he's in love with! This so-called adoration for Drew has to be lust.

"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard. How can you love her when we're perfect for each other?"

"Maybe I don't want perfect anymore."

This shouldn't cause her so much pain. It shouldn't feel like a stab to the heart. She's already gone through all the stages of grief in the last half hour; she's too exhausted to repeat the cycle a second time.

"Are you dumping me?"

"I think so."

Annabeth can't help it; she bursts out laughing. Luke watches her, his expression a mixture of confusion and bemusement.

He is making a catastrophic mistake. She's the one he's meant to be with. Why can't he see that?

Before she can open her mouth to say something, the last person Annabeth wants to see struts over. Drew's face lights for the briefest of seconds when Luke turns to stare at her.

Drew sidles up beside Luke and nudges his shoulder. It's not an inherently romantic gesture; Annabeth's jostled complete strangers in the hallway in the same way. But when she sees Luke and Drew together now, all she can think about his Luke's arms wrapped around Drew's waist, Drew's hands fisted in his hair.

"Hey, Luke? Want to come over to my house to work on our bio project?"

Annabeth whirls around to give Drew a withering glare. "You don't have to speak in code anymore. Luke and I are through. He wants you."

Annabeth doesn't want to see their reactions. She calmly walks inside the school and makes it all the way to the bathroom before she loses her composure. It's like the already fragmented shards of her heart are breaking all over again.

Crying in a filthy stall is not at all how she thought she'd spend her Valentine's Day, and it sucks.