As she and Percy walk up to the roller rink, Annabeth feels more like a mother pulling along her whiny child than a loving girlfriend holding her boyfriend's hand. They're supposed to be making everyone around them jealous, including Calypso. Instead she's babysitting.

Percy tugs on her shirtsleeve. "Annabeth, I'm so tired."

"So am I, Percy," she snaps. Any energy from those gallons of coffee this morning has evaporated, and she kind of wants to rip Percy's face to shreds. She takes a long, deep breath, counts to ten, and says, "Let's just try to get through this without killing each other, okay?"

"Yeah, okay."

They join the line to get inside the rink. Percy's fiddling with his shirt, tucking and untucking it, messing with the collar and the buttons. "Why'd I have to wear high rise jeans anyway?" he asks.

"Because it's eighties night," she says, digging her nails into her palms.

"Oh. That explains the scrunchie you gave me in the car."

Annabeth twists the scrunchie around her own wrist. She was so excited for tonight, spending hours planning her outfit and choosing the perfect pair of mom jeans, but now she's so pissed off with Percy that she can't even enjoy herself. Why had she ever thought he might be halfway decent?

They pay the entrance fee, then walk up to the line for skates. The music is much louder here than it was outside, the punchy drums reverberating in Annabeth's chest.

She glances at Percy. He's yawning, leaning his head against the wall, and a few strands of hair fall into his eyes. It bothers Annabeth, those pieces out of place. Her fingers twitch with the urge to swipe them away.

"Your hair—" she says, pointing.

Percy turns his head. "What?"

"Your hair, it's in your eyes—" she tries raising her voice.

"What?"

Huffing, Annabeth reaches and brushes the hair back herself, and she can't help marveling at how fucking soft it is. It takes everything in her to pull her hands away and place them safely by her sides.

"Huh, thanks," Percy says, blinking.

For the next ten minutes, he drives Annabeth crazy with his concerns as to whether he should size up or down for his skates, and she's thrilled when they finally reach the front of the line. She practically screams her shoe size to the guy working the counter, but even then she's pretty sure the skates he gives her are too small.

She and Percy find a spot to stand and put on their skates. Annabeth squishes her feet into hers, wrinkling her nose at the gross scent of the insides.

"Ugh, fuck," she groans, nearly falling over as she struggles to tie the laces. Of course she had to get skates with laces. Percy got ones with velcro and plastic snaps.

"Need help?" he asks, ducking his head to speak into her ear.

Is she really willing to sacrifice her pride? Percy is all-too-smug about this, an aggravating little smirk playing on his lips as he looks down at her, and her ego will be bruised beyond belief, but she also doesn't want to look like a fumbling idiot trying to do it herself.

"I guess," she concedes.

Percy squats down and starts on the right skate. A little crease appears between his eyebrows as he concentrates, and it's strangely endearing that he still ties shoes like an elementary schooler, with the two bunny ears.

When he's finished, he guides her to the rink. She's wobbly and shaky and loathes how she has to grip onto him for balance. She's a ballerina, for god's sake! She's supposed to be graceful, but she's more like a fucking baby giraffe walking for the first time.

Percy, quite annoyingly, has no trouble at all. He laughs hysterically each time she falls on her ass, and she'd murder him right here and now if only there weren't witnesses around.

After her third wipeout Percy grabs her by the waist to keep her steady. She glares at him and his shit-eating grin. "Fuck you, hockey boy."

That Simple Minds song from The Breakfast Club begins to play, and Percy's grin softens.

"We used to love this song!" he says.

"Oh my god, I almost forgot about that! Didn't we watch the movie in like, fourth grade?"

"We were definitely too young for it."

For a few minutes Annabeth is skating pretty well, singing "Don't You Forget About Me" and coasting along near the wall, but then a kid zooms past and that's enough to make her almost topple over.

Percy tightens his grip around her just before she hits the floor. "Woah, easy there."

"Don't talk to me like I'm a horse," she grumbles, though she doesn't mind being close to him one bit. Electric sparks shoot down her body and it's suddenly very hard to focus on anything other than Percy, his warmth and his scent. Why does he smell so good?

They skate for several more songs. As they loop around the rink again and again, Annabeth scans all the benches for Calypso. The reason they're here in the first place. She finally sees her during the couples' skate, standing near the snack bar, hands clenched in fists, gold rings glinting in the flashing neon lights. Something like satisfaction curls in Annabeth's stomach. She murmurs to Percy, "Your ex, seven o'clock."

Percy momentarily stops mimicking the "Careless Whisper" saxophone to frown. "Clockwise or counterclockwise? Wait, we're talking about an epilogue clock, right?"

"She's to your left," Annabeth says, sighing heavily. "And it's an analog clock."

Not even three seconds pass before he opens his mouth again.

"I'm hungry, can we get food?"

"You know they jack up the prices at the snack bar, Perce, it's not worth it."

"But I didn't get to have dinner, and my feet hurt. Can we at least sit down?"

This date is starting to feel like babysitting again. Is Percy her (fake) boyfriend or a toddler she's being forced to watch over?

"Yeah, okay. We'll find somewhere to sit."

He ends up buying overpriced food anyway, and as they're waiting to order, he groans about how his entire body aches from his hockey practice and asks her to massage his feet three different times. She almost feels bad for dragging him here after his practice clearly kicked his ass. Almost.

She heads to the bathroom as soon as Percy is situated with his nachos and blue slushy. The drink stains his lips blue, and for the briefest of seconds she wonders if he would taste like blue raspberry if she kissed him.

She quickly shoves that thought away and steps into the bathroom. She's completely unprepared, however, to find Calypso at the sinks.

"Oh, hey, Calypso," she says, pulling her lip gloss out and attempting to mask her surprise. "How are you?"

"Annabeth! I didn't, um...hi. I'm, uh...good. Yeah."

Like hell if Annabeth believes that. Calypso clearly hadn't looked good when she saw her earlier, and now she's scrubbing what seem to be tear tracks from her face.

They lapse into an awkward silence. Annabeth fluffs her hair in the mirror, twirling a few strands around her finger to increase their curl, searching for something to say.

"I didn't think I would see you here, so soon after, you know, you and Percy broke up," she eventually settles with.

Calypso switches off the water. "I wasn't originally planning on coming…and I kind of wish I hadn't."

It's clearer than ever that she's hurting, but Annabeth doesn't really care to tiptoe around Calypso's feelings. She was the one who ended things with Percy, not the other way around. "Honestly, same. I've been having a great time, but Percy was such a whiny baby. You know him, a total asshat until he's had his slushy." She shakes her head.

Emotions flash in Calypso's eyes. "Yeah, that sounds like him," she says weakly. She clenches her jaw as she dries her hands on a paper towel. "You know, you two look good together. I can tell you make each other happy."

Annabeth squeezes Calypso's shoulder. "Thanks! He drives me crazy, but I've never been happier." She opens the door and steps out. "I'll see you around?"

The door shuts and she slumps against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut. Pretending to be that girl, artificially peppy and bright and bubblegum-sweet, is so tiring. She's not sure how she managed years of it when she was trying to fit into the popular crowd, trying to get Luke to like her.

Annabeth adjusts her skates and inches toward the table. At the rate she's going, it'll take her the rest of the night to get there, but if she goes any faster than this tortoise pace, she'll fall and—

She loses her balance like the ground was ripped out from under her. She nearly tumbles to the ground, but someone catches her by the wrist.

"Thank y—"

Her voice trails off as she stares straight into the eyes of Ethan Nakamura.

"Annabeth, isn't it?" he drawls, grasp iron-strong. He starts tugging her toward a bench.

"Leave me alone."

Ethan ignores her, eyes roving over her body. "Why don't we find a nice dark corner and take a seat? You're looking drop-dead fucking gorgeous tonight…"

"You don't have to keep holding my hand," she says, gritting her teeth. She digs her fingernails into his skin. "Let go."

"Shit, man, I'm just trying to help you stay on your feet. We wouldn't want you to fall."

Annabeth glares at him as she tries to pry his arms off. This greasy asshole is infamous for refusing to take no for an answer and she does not want to end up alone with him.

"You wouldn't like that, would you?" she spits. "If I fell on the ground, it would block your view of my ass." She smacks his jaw with her free hand. "You can stop staring at my tits, too. My face is up here."

Ethan all but shoves her onto the bench. He leans over her, pinning her down, mouth so close to her face that she can smell his breath. "Ah, but I can't help—"

"Hey, get the fuck away from my girlfriend."

Percy. Relief floods through Annabeth at the sound of his voice. Ethan immediately drops her hand, a hint of fear brightening his eyes. He's afraid of Percy, whose face has gone stormy, eyes narrowed.

"You don't have to go all protective-boyfriend on me," Annabeth says, despite the immense gratitude she feels for him. "I had the situation under control. I can protect myself."

Percy glares at Ethan. "You can protect yourself, and I know that, but this dickwad could always use another warning to keep his hands to himself."

"Jesus fuck, fine." Ethan stalks off, only to crash face-first into a garbage can.

Annabeth cackles as Percy leads her back to the table, his hand on the small of her back the entire time, comforting and reassuring. She slides her chair close to his and leans her head on his shoulder.

Exhaustion catches up to her all at once, the fatigue weighing down on her all day finally crushing her. She lets her eyes flutter closed and sighs, whispers, "Thanks, Percy."

"For what?"

"Coming here with me? Protecting me? I don't know. All of it."

Even if she can't see his soft smile, she knows it's there. "Anytime, Annabeth. I'd be there for you anytime."


Though Annabeth tries her absolute hardest to stay awake during the drive home, cranking up the volume of Percy's rock music to keep them both alert, she still falls asleep, curled up against the door, face pressed to the chilled window glass.

Her alarm wakes her hours later. She blinks the bleariness away and fumbles through the dark for her phone. She finds it laying on her dresser.

Her dresser.

Why is she at home? Laying on her bed, in her room?

She goes to switch off the alarm but finds a post-it note stuck to the screen. She peels it off, shines her flashlight on the words, and warmth fills her chest.

A,

you fell asleep in the car and looked too peaceful to wake up so i just carried you up here. sleep well :)

- P