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When Annabeth left home that afternoon, she actually thought it would be a good idea to read at the park. She usually enjoyed stillness and silence when reading because she was easily distracted by external stimuli, but after weeks of commuting from her apartment to work, she felt that some time outdoors was deserved as a reward for having managed to deliver the project on time without murdering her coworkers, her boss or the client.
Besides, the day was beautiful and the weather pleasant after the rain that morning, practically beckoning her out of the confines of her apartment. So, Annabeth put on comfortable clothes, grabbed the book she'd been forced to stop reading halfway through because she didn't have time to finish it, and bought a smoothie before heading to the park. She wandered aimlessly for a few minutes, observing the people who had the same idea of enjoying the afternoon outside until she found a tree with a nice shade to sit under, a little further away from the people picnicking or playing with their children. She put on her headphones to drown out some of the noise and resumed reading.
The book was a thriller, one of her favorite genres. Annabeth had read and watched so many books that she knew the narrative patterns by heart, how to look for hidden clues to uncover the answers. She was alert to identify the culprit among the suspects, and in general, it was very difficult to surprise her. She enjoyed the feeling of reward when she guessed correctly, but equally enjoyed the surprise when the ending wasn't what she expected, as long as it made sense. It was fun to flip through the book again after finishing it to look for foreshadowing and details she'd missed the first time.
Annabeth tuned out the world around her and immersed herself in the book. There was little less than a third of it left. The climax was approaching, and she was eager to find out if her theories were correct when something interrupted her. A noise rose above the soft music playing in her headphones, and she only had time to look up before a huge, dark, furry mass crashed into her, slamming her back into the tree trunk and knocking the book from her hands.
Still reeling, she ripped off the headphones and looked at what had hit her, then scrambled to her feet when she discovered it was a massive dog. Its fur was thick and black, and even though Annabeth wasn’t short, that beast could’ve easily put its front paws on her shoulders. She heard someone curse, and seconds later a man came running to her. It was probably the dog's owner, because the animal trotted towards the guy as soon as it saw him, proudly dropping a drool covered frisbee at his feet and wagging its tail.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry! Are you hurt?" he asked, putting a leash on the dog. Annabeth's heart was still pounding, there was a paw-shaped smudge of dirt on her shirt, and the book… She looked around, searching the grass until she found it completely ruined a few meters away. The dog had spilled the rest of her smoothie all over it, and the pages were completely crumpled. Then her shock turned to anger.
"Are you crazy? How can you let a dog that size run around without a leash?" she demanded. Normally, Annabeth didn't yell at strangers, even if they irritated her, but the guy's lack of awareness, coupled with the fact that her afternoon (and her book) were ruined, made her a little mad. He winced, which would have been funny under other circumstances because considering the guy was taller, more muscular, and had a goddamn bear disguised as a dog on his leash, she should be the one feeling threatened. But anger makes people stupid.
"She's well trained," the guy replied, standing up. "It was my fault. We always come to this area because there are fewer people, and I didn't see you there before I threw the frisbee. I'm really sorry."
He seemed sincere, but discovering it was his fault instead of the dog's didn't improve Annabeth's mood. The guy reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a plastic bag before scooping up the smoothie cup and tossing it inside. She figured the bag was meant for the dog, but honestly, she preferred not to think about the size of the poop a creature that big could produce.
The guy picked up the book and stared at the cover for a few seconds. Although reading his expression was difficult because of the cap partially covering his eyes, Annabeth chose to interpret his smirk as sarcastic. Really? After all this he had the nerve to be judging her reading choices?
"I'll buy you another book," he said, tucking the destroyed copy under his arm.
"Never mind," Annabeth replied, trying to brush the grass off her clothes. She'd already been interrupted anyway; the best thing to do was go home and try to save the book or read the rest on a digital copy or something. She didn't want to deal with this.
"But the ending is so good! I'll feel guilty if you stop reading because of me," he sounded excited now. "If you show up here at this same time tomorrow, I'll give you a new book. And to make up for the trouble, I'll get you an autographed copy."
Annabeth snorted and shook her head in disbelief. The book had been released almost a year ago. The author's tour was already over, as were the signed copies distributed to physical and online stores. It would be impossible for that guy to get an autograph.
"Uh-huh. That’s not possible. Can't you just give me the money and we'll get this over with?"
"I don't have any money right now. Besides…" He hesitated for only a second before his eyes lit up. "I owe you a drink, too. Here is the deal: if I get an autograph by tomorrow, you'll meet me for a drink and talk about the ending. What do you think?"
This time she actually laughed. "I think it's awfully bold of you to ask me out after ruining my afternoon. And there's no way you'll get the author to sign this book."
The guy didn't seem deterred by her answer, he just shrugged.
"If you’re so sure, say yes. What do you have to lose?"
It was a challenge, but one Annabeth knew for a fact she would win. She started to put her headphones back over her ears and mumbled an "okay" before turning away.
"Wait!” the guy said. “What's your name? You know, for the autograph."
"Annabeth," she replied. And then, remembering the countless times her name had been misspelled, she added, "All together and with two n's."
Not that it mattered, anyway. Because there wouldn't be any autograph.
This time, he let her go.
On Sunday afternoon, when she made her way back to the agreed-upon spot, the guy was already there. He hadn't yet noticed her yet, so Annabeth took the opportunity to watch him from afar as he fought over a toy with the dog. It was a colorful rope with a few knots, and when he finally managed to get it out of the dog's mouth, he looked up. Using his free hand to shield his eyes from the sun, he saw Annabeth standing there. Impatient with the wait, the dog whined, so the guy gave the back the rope for her to chew on.
"You came!" he said, jogging to meet her. She crossed her arms.
"I want to know how the book ends. Even if it doesn't have the author's autograph."
The guy smiled and bent down to pick up a backpack from under the same tree where Annabeth had been reading yesterday. He was not wearing a cap today, giving her a clear view of his green eyes, windswept black hair and tanned skin. Now that she wasn't in a bad mood, she had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that he was handsome.
The dog came toward them and placed the toy at her owner's feet before circling Annabeth, sniffing her ankles. She liked dogs, but this one was too big and was making her nervous. Sensing her discomfort, the guy removed the book from his backpack and handed it to her before calling the animal back.
Annabeth gave him a skeptical look before opening the book, and looked at the first page. Against all odds, there was a message written in black ink pen and elegant cursive:
To Annabeth,
May you continue to seek answers despite life’s curveballs (or frisbees).
Best wishes, Sally Jackson.
Her jaw was on the floor. She read it over and over again in disbelief and finally looked up at the still nameless man standing in front of her with the world’s most insufferable smug smirk.
"I put my number in there," he said, winking. "Say hi when you're done reading, will you? Mrs. O'Leary, heel!"
And with that, he simply left, with that monstrous dog following close behind.
~~~
Annabeth finished the book. Her theories were wrong, in the end, and after finishing it, she immediately started flipping through the previous chapters for the little clues the author had scattered throughout the narrative like breadcrumbs. She was satisfied with the conclusion, but there was a second mystery that wouldn't leave her mind: the guy from the park.
As promised, right below the last paragraph of the last chapter was a yellow Post-it note with a contact number, a smiley emoji, and a name: Percy. Annabeth ripped the note from the book, but didn't save the number to her phone; she simply tucked the piece of paper, along with dozens of other random notes, into a small notebook on her nightstand.
Annabeth was not going to text him. She didn't owe him anything, and she'd already managed to get the book back. The smoothie wasn't important, and she had mostly finished it when the dog knocked it over anyway. And this Percy guy must be terrible at collecting bets. He had no way to contact her; he was relying solely on her to fulfill her end of the bargain.
On Monday, she returned to her work routine, but as the week went on, a question kept nagging at her: how the hell had the guy from the park gotten the autograph? Annabeth researched to confirm that Sally Jackson hadn’t been on tour anywhere recently, much less in the city. If it had been just the author's name, Percy might very well have owned a signed copy, but the note was too specific, made especially for her. The book was brand new, too, and if it wasn’t for the autograph she would have guessed it had never even been opened.
She searched online for blogs or posts from readers who had an autograph and compared the handwriting, and although she wasn't an expert, the shape of the letters and writing style matched. Annabeth began conjuring up a bunch of crazy ideas to try to explain the situation. Had he contacted the author and asked for a crazy favour? Had he ordered by mail? If so, there was no way the book would have arrived so quickly. Had he paid someone to forge the handwriting? Had he forged it himself? Frustrated, Annabeth took the post-it note and saved the number on her phone and sent a message without preamble.
<Annabeth: How did you get the autograph?
>Park Guy: Annabeth?
<Annabeth: Yes
>Park Guy: I'm not telling you :)
She glared at the screen. It was Thursday night, and after all those days of failing to get an answer, the fact that he'd refused to tell her how he'd gotten the autograph was getting on her nerves.
<Annabeth: why not?
>Park Guy: Maybe I'll tell you when we go on that date
>Park Guy: What did you think of the ending?
Sighing, she ignored the message and decided to focus on her dinner. Annabeth knew what he was doing and refused to fall for it. But as she ate, she knew there was no way around it. She wanted to know the answer. Curse her mystery-addicted brain. Accepting defeat, she picked up the phone again.
<Annabeth: When and where?
~~~
They met again at the park. It was a Saturday, and they'd exchanged a few more messages over the past two days to iron out the details, but didn’t talk much otherwise, even though Annabeth tried — with no success — to pry more information about the autograph.
Annabeth made a point not to try too hard when she was getting ready. It would be nothing fancy, after all, just a meeting in the late afternoon to get a beverage and talk about a book. The weather was starting to get a little chilly in the early fall, so she chose a light jacket to throw over a sundress and tamed her curls into a half bun.
It was a nice day to be outside. The golden hour painted the world in warm colours, and there were a few loose orange leaves blowing softly with the wind. Percy was already there when she arrived, leaning against that same tree. He seemed very comfortable in a blue quarter zip sweater, the sun glistening a bit against his earring.
The dog was nowhere to be seen. Now that Percy was there alone, looking at his phone, his resting face was more intimidating, the expression of someone that should not be messed with. But then he looked up from the screen after hearing her footsteps, his face broke into a grin and the whole intimidating persona was gone.
“You’re here!”
“You sound surprised,” Annabeth said, stopping a few steps away from him.
“I was half convinced you would stand me up,” Percy said, pushing away from the tree. “I’m glad you didn’t though. You look nice.”
Annabeth refused to blush. She shrugged. “What can I say, I can’t resist a mystery.’’
“So, about that drink,” Percy said as they walked. “Does it have to be a smoothie or are you up for something else? I know a nice coffee shop not far from here.”
Annabeth had no objections to that. It was a short walk, maybe five minutes until they were in front of a charming little building. The front was painted a dark green, and the interior could be seen through a glass window.
Percy entered the shop, shaking the bell placed above the door. He held it open while Annabeth entered, and the smell of baked goods and coffee instantly overwhelmed her senses. The place was small and there were few tables available inside, but through another door that led to the back, there were some more in a backyard outside. They walked to the counter and Percy pointed to the menu above.
“What’s your poison?”
Annabeth opted for a cappuccino and went to get a table while Percy ordered their drinks. She briefly considered choosing one outside, but she liked the interior of the shop. It was cozy, with music playing softly on the speakers, warm lighting and watercolor paintings on the walls.
“Never heard of this place,” she said when Percy sat across from her. The small space made their legs brush under the table.
“One of New York’s hidden gems. Are you from here?”
Annabeth hesitated before answering. She had only agreed to come and talk about the book, sharing personal stuff wasn’t on the plan. But more and more she found herself lowering her hackles.
“Virginia. Lived in San Francisco for a while, but came here for college and fell in love with the city.”
“Let me guess…NYU?’’
“Yeah. You too?”
Percy shook his head. “I didn’t go to college. But I was born and raised here, never went anywhere else.”
Annabeth drummed her fingers on the table, trying to think of a way to redirect the conversation to what she actually came here to do. “So you like mystery books, huh?”
Percy smiled as if he knew exactly what she was doing. “A bit. I’m not much of a reader, to be honest.’’
“So why did you pick up that one?”
“I happen to like the author.’’
That was the perfect opening for her to ask about the autograph, but their drinks arrived. Cappuccino for her, hot chocolate for Percy and a small basket with croissants, banana bread, pretzels and muffins.
“You said one drink,” Annabeth accused. Percy just grabbed a pretzel from the basket and took a bite.
“I mean, I’m not forcing you to eat. You could just sit there and only drink your cappuccino. But why would you?”
He had a point. But the delicious smell coming from the basket did more to convince her than anything else. So she grabbed a piece of the banana bread, sipped her drink and they talked about the book.
Annabeth isn’t going to lie. It was fun talking to him about it, hearing his theories and sharing hers. Wasn’t long before they were talking about other stuff.
“I really liked this place. I wish I could design something like this for a change, instead of boring offices,” she mused as they walked outside, back to the park. The sun was almost set, the sky a beautiful mix between orange, pink and blue.
“Are you a designer?”
“Architect. But we often work together. And what do you do for a living?”
“I’m a firefighter. The dog that destroyed your book is actually the department’s mascot. We rescued her from a flood a few years ago, had no idea that tiny little puppy would get so big."
A picture of Percy in a firefighter uniform invaded her thoughts. Annabeth tried to banish it.
“Well, you destroyed my theory then. I thought you sold forged autographs for a living.”
He laughed, shaking his head. “And here I was, thinking the baked goods would be enough to make you forget to ask about that—”
“That’s the whole reason I’m here.”
“—then you’d get home, realize you forgot and we would have to go on another date.”
“Percy.”
"Annabeth."
She just kept staring at him. As much as Annabeth enjoyed herself, she wanted to know, otherwise this would keep nagging at her until she had the answer. Percy seemed to realize that, because he sighed and buried his hands inside his pockets.
“I know where the author lives,” he said, finally. “I just bought a new copy from a bookstore and asked her to sign it.”
“What do you mean you know where she lives?” she demanded, remembering how he said earlier that he happened to like the author. Was he one of those stalker types? Did he harass her in any way to get the autograph? Annabeth’s face must have done something, because Percy raised his hands in a pacifying gesture.
“Hold your horses, it’s not what you think.”
“Then what is it?”
He sighed again. “Sally Jackson is my mother.”
For the second time, Percy left her speechless. Annabeth could feel her jaw slackening again before she forcefully shut it.
“You’re kidding.”
He fished his phone out of his pocket and thumbed it for a while before showing her the screen. It was a picture of a slightly younger Percy with one arm around Sally’s shoulders, both with wide — and, now that Annabeth was paying attention — similar smiles. Her face was beaming with pride, and they seemed to be celebrating something, it didn’t look like a picture an author would take with some random fan.
“It’s from the day I joined the FDNY. I can show you a few others if you still don’t believe me.”
“No, I believe you.” Annabeth said. And she did. Annabeth didn’t know much about Sally Jackson, the author kept her personal life private. But this explanation was the only one that made sense. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
Percy shrugged. “I didn’t want to give up my leverage. I’m sure whatever theory you were cooking up was probably way cooler than me going up to my mother and saying ‘hey mom, can you sign this book? A pretty girl at the park said she would go on a date with me if I got your autograph.’’
“Hm,” she said intelligently while her brain processed the situation. “Good thing I had nothing bad to say about the book, huh?”
He snorted. “That would’ve been awkward.’’
Annabeth looked up at the darkening sky, the wind blowing the hem of her dress.
“You’re right, it was your only leverage,” she said, eventually. She got what she wanted, it was time for goodbye. It had been fun, but Annabeth was busy. She had a plan to make a name for herself in her career, most of the time she barely had time to hang out with her friends or just to be relaxing by herself. Still… She looked at Percy, who was already staring at her expectantly. “But I wouldn’t mind doing this again.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’ll text you.”
His face split into a grin, and Annabeth finally let herself feel the butterflies fluttering inside her. She started to leave, but on her third step she heard Percy calling after her. “I’m looking forward to it!”
Annabeth didn’t turn around, but she bit down a grin of her own. God, this guy would be trouble.