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“You are too tense.” Drew’s voice taunted her mercilessly.
Annabeth skimmed topographic maps and drill-and-tactics manuals on the table. She would have to go over them one more time. Yes, Annabeth had worked on the CONOPS diagram and the detailed operation order for four hours last night, and yes, she had spent five hours brainstorming the same plans with Percy the night before. She knew these diagrams like the back of her hand, but perfection remained unattainable. When she cracked her neck, she realized she’d wasted at least thirty minutes staring blankly at the risk register. Her shoulders hurt.
They had only three hours until the war room meeting. Only three hours. She might have to skip dinner.
It was pouring outside. Annabeth glanced toward the opened door, worrying that Percy hadn’t returned their trainees back from the drill. She knew he was fine being soaked, but those children would be miserable and more likely to hurt themselves. His instructor skills were a bit unorthodox, and she resolved to tell him so when he returned.
“I am not tense,” she said out loud. Even in the empty room her voice sounded fake. Why did Drew even say that? Why had that Aphrodite’s kid been hovering over her for the past week? What was wrong with her?
Okay, maybe she was a bit tense these days. To be honest, she had been intense most of her life, but she always had a reason.
Did she have a good reason now? Objectively, no. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to run these trainings before moving to New Rome, and they had only three weeks. It was a lot of work: drills, planning. Compared with the Battle of the Labyrinth, fighting Kronos, or the final clash against Gaea’s forces, this was small. Still, her shoulders ached and irritation flared—Percy was late.
“If anyone gets pneumonia, I will drown him in a puddle,” she muttered.
Thunder shook the skies over the camp. Annabeth straightened; her head began to throb. Were her braids too tight? She opened a book on Modern Small-Unit & Combined-Arms, trying to refocus.
“So how exactly are you… having your boyfriend?” Drew was propped against the tree, teasing and grinning.
Annabeth snapped the book shut and went to the door. She needed to breathe. There were so many things to do: the war room, a training she was running at 6 a.m. tomorrow. Would she get four hours of sleep? Three? Two? None?
Percy and she had been on no‑sleep schedules all week. They’d gone to the campfire only once, and he fell asleep in her lap. It had been both unbearably sweet and deeply irritating.
“Walk him like a dog,” Drew said, breathing into her neck, invading her space.
Annabeth huffed. Her head did hurt. She began to loosen the ends of her braids, gently separating the tightly woven hair. Her fingers dug in as they reached her scalp, massaging the skin while undoing the braids.
“I should have done this hours ago,” she said, wondering if stress was triggering the aches all over her body.
When she finished, Annabeth stretched her hand into the pouring rain. It felt nice. Was that why he wasn’t back yet? Was he recruiting them for Poseidon’s army? By the time they returned, they’d consist of 100% water and be covered in scales. Annabeth smiled at the image.
Whatever she was doing, it felt like a waste of time. She looked back at the table. She needed to categorize the maps and make copies of the CONOPS diagrams. So much work and only three hours before the meeting.
Lightning struck somewhere beyond the campgrounds—bright and merciless. Annabeth felt a prickling longing for Thalia. What would Thalia say? Honestly, she didn’t know.
She dug her hand into her curls again, separating them, wondering if the humidity would turn her hair into a frizzy mess.
She remembered scolding Drew for taking her time; the girl had said, “Find time.”
What did she know? That silly girl. Find time? She had so much on her plate—so many things to do. Oh Lord Poseidon, where was Percy?
Tension tightened across her chest.
Was she squeezing herself too hard?
Find time.
Find time.
Find time.
Thunder rolled across the sky again, and Annabeth jerked as she stepped into the rain, gasping at the sudden chill on her skin.
Find time sounded quieter, more relaxed.
What if she could do it? Find time… like untangling her braids, like letting someone take something from her plate.
The rain wasn’t stopping, but she just might.
***
The doorframe was cold, but Annabeth didn’t care. Two more hours until the war room, but everything was carefully stacked and prepared. Not perfect, but decent enough. She decided to let the counselors handle copies and snacks.
So Annabeth did something she rarely did.
She did absolutely nothing.
She simply stood there, breathing ozone‑heavy air, drunk on oxygen.
She heard the trainees before she saw them—like a pack of young wolves: noisy, rowdy, screaming and howling. She smiled.
When the pack reached the big house, she was relieved to see no one had grown scales. They were just filthy—so filthy their orange T‑shirts had lost any trace of orange. Instructors trailed behind them, slower but no less cheerful. Percy was among them, howling. What had Drew said about dogs?
She should have called to him, but there was no harm in watching him move through them. He flowed like a current—leisurely because he knew there was no stopping him, determined because he always knew the way.
Someone pointed at her and he turned, a quick 180, changing direction as easily as everything else.
“Hey!” He smiled as he stepped closer, raising his hands in surrender. There was more mud than skin on him, but his smile was bright and radiant. “Before you get angry with me, I know we’re an hour late, BUT we did run additional obstacles… thanks to the rain. It worked great… they—” He stumbled as Annabeth closed the distance and captured his face, kissing that completely dirty face and smudging mud all over her.
Percy didn’t dare touch her; he even shifted his torso backward, probably trying to save her clothes.
Annabeth wouldn’t have it. Her hand found his waist, wrapping around him, letting her body arch against his wet frame as she tilted her head to deepen the kiss.
He gave up, grabbed her with both hands, and lifted her from the ground. She laughed into his mouth just as the howling behind them erupted into an even louder cacophony—barking, monkey noises, and unidentifiable, exasperated imitations. It never occurred to Annabeth that such sounds would accompany any of their kisses. Well, they had crossed that line.
They broke apart. Percy flipped the gang the bird without looking back.
“That’s not very educational,” she raised an eyebrow.
Percy protested, “It is 100% educational. Some of them may get a few slaps on the neck if they keep that up in the showers.” He set her down and leaned in to kiss her jawline. “So what was that for?”
“You were late. I missed you.” The admission came too easily; Percy melted, swept her into a bear hug and buried his hands in her hair.
“You did promise to mess with my head. Now I’ll never know if you’re going to scold me or kiss me,” he said, adding, “I love your hair.”
He smelled like rain, like ground swollen with water and fresh grass ripped from the soil. She decided to take it all in, resting her cheek against his chest.
“Hey.” He sounded as if he’d remembered something. “Piper just told me why Drew’s been stalking you.”
“Why?” Annabeth lifted her head, curious.
Percy grinned. “She placed a bet that you’d sneak into my cabin. Deadline’s today.”
Annabeth laughed. “That explains it. I was getting tired of her unsolicited advice.”
“Was there anything worth mentioning?” he asked, still smiling.
She shook her head and traced his chest with her fingers. Percy drew her close and found her lips again—gentle this time, without urgency. Annabeth leaned into the kiss, savoring the intimacy and warmth, then drifted back, foreheads touching. They stayed like that, soaking in the last droplets of rain.
“Guess I better grab a shower and teach those mutts some manners,” Percy sighed. “War room in two hours, right?”
“Yeah. Shower time for me too.” Annabeth glanced at her T‑shirt, streaked with mud. Under any other circumstances that would’ve bothered her. Not today.
She lowered her voice, lips near his ear. “Meet me at your cabin before the war room—in twenty?”
“Fifteen,” his voice dropped into that deep, husky tone that always made her knees go weak. “I’ll cut the slaps short.”
“Agreed.” She kissed him again, smearing dirt across his neck, and sighed when she pulled away.
He backed up a few steps, smiling, then ran after the pack as a new wave of howling rose.
Drew might win that bet after all.