The Architect [Pipabeth AU]

e i g h t- the studio

P I P E R

I picked up half of Annabeth's bags and led her up the stairs to her room. There were 4 guest rooms in my house, all of which but one stayed vacant. The one my father used was all the way at the end of the hall, and the door stayed shut.

"Wow," Annabeth said as I opened the door. "Your interior designer is amazing."

"It's the one my dad uses," I replied. "I think her name is Rachel."

"Rachel Elizabeth Dare?" She asked, a huge grin winding across her face.

"Yes, " I replied. "Red hair, interesting fashion choice?"

"That's her!" Annabeth's smile was huge as she excitedly informed me that they were roommates at NYU.

"Wow," I marveled. "Small world."

"Agreed," she said. "I can see the Rachel in it now- those paintings? The lamp? The potted plants? The shelf?"

The shelf was possibly the coolest thing in the entire house. Rachel had designed it herself. It was mounted on the wall, with each nook having a hexagonal shape so that it resembled honeycomb. Inside each unit, Rachel had put random assortments of things. Books, plants, pictures. A polaroid camera sat in one. A metal deer sat in another. An empty brown box sat in another. Rachel had called it a "memory box." She told me someone one day would fill it with pictures from nights no one could remember, ticket stubs from incredible concerts, receipts from dinner dates with someone they really liked, sticky notes with inside jokes, and random objects that were full of meaning. It had stayed empty since I moved in.

"She definitely puts little pieces of her inside her work," I agreed.

"That's the goal for an architect," Annabeth said.

"That's the goal for an artist," I added.

Annabeth gave me a wry smile. "Maybe they're not so different."

"It's all about creation," I said.

"Building something that lasts." She finished.

I nodded my head. "Something that stays long after you leave."

Annabeth sat her bag down on the grey bed. "I didn't know it was possible to somehow mesh granola and modern," she gushed, "but if anybody could've figured it out, of course it would've been Rachel."

"I'll leave you to unpack," I said, sitting down the rest of her bags beside her. "And if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. I'm the first door on the left."

"This is so nice of you," Annabeth decided, but she still looked as if she was trying to read me like an engineering book.

"Oh, you're my guest," I said. "It's really nothing."

It really was. I liked to treat people that stayed here as nicely as I could. I had more money than I knew what to do with. I might as well let others share in on the good luck I'd had. People in Hollywood never knew what to do with all their money. They wasted it on blowout parties but averted their eyes from charity donations, or from paying for the meal for the person behind you. They could afford swimming pools, mansions, flashy sports cars, and solid gold toilets, but couldn't afford to be a little generous.

"If you don't mind," Annabeth said. "I'm gonna take a shower maybe? I feel gross from my flight."

"Absolutely," I said. "I'll be downstairs for the rest of the evening if you need anything. We can start working again tomorrow morning."

"Does 7:00 sound good to you? Also, weren't you going to show me the rest of the second and third floor?" Annabeth asked.

I winced. God, I was not a morning person. "7:00 is fine. And it's up to you," I said. "I'm in no particular hurry."