Loverboy (PERCABETH AU)

Chapter 5

Percy POV 

The drive from the school to the pier wasn't far — maybe ten minutes without traffic, fifteen if the city decided to be its usual chaotic self. This was New York. "Without traffic" was basically a mythical concept.

My blue Prius hummed along in the right lane, the late afternoon light spilling across the dashboard. I saw Annabeth looking out the window, her expression somewhere between "I'm tolerating this" and "I'm calculating the probability of regretting this decision."

I hit the turn signal. "You know, you didn't have to come if you didn't want to."

Her gaze flicked toward me. "And you didn't have to offer."

"Yeah, but then I'd be sitting alone drinking the best milkshake in the tri-state area, and that's just depressing."

She smirked. "You sound awfully confident for someone driving a Prius."

I tapped the steering wheel. "Hey, don't hate on the Prius. She's efficient, reliable, and environmentally friendly. Plus, she's blue."

"That's... very on-brand for you."

"Blue's my thing," I said simply.

We passed a group of skateboarders weaving through pedestrians on the sidewalk. Annabeth's gaze lingered on them for a moment before she turned back to the window. I couldn't tell if she was avoiding talking to me or just lost in thought.

"So," I tried again, "what's your go-to milkshake flavor? And please, for the love of the gods, don't say vanilla."

"Vanilla isn't boring if it's done right."

I made a face. "That's like saying plain toast is gourmet if the bread's fancy."

Her lips twitched — maybe I imagined it, maybe not. "Fine. Cookies and cream. Happy?"

"Very," I said. "Although blueberry still reigns supreme."

"Blueberry? In a milkshake?"

"Don't knock it till you try it." I grinned. "It's basically happiness in liquid form."

We reached the pier, the salty tang of the Hudson drifting through the cracked windows. I pulled into a spot near the boardwalk, killed the engine, and hopped out. Annabeth followed, pulling her jacket tighter against the breeze.

The diner sat right at the edge of the boardwalk, its neon sign buzzing faintly. Eddie's Shake Shack had been there forever — my mom used to take me when I was a kid, back when my biggest problem in life was whether to order fries with my burger. The place smelled like fried food and sugar, which in my opinion was the smell of happiness.

I held the door open for Annabeth. "After you."

She stepped inside, giving the place a quick once-over. The vinyl booths, the old jukebox in the corner, the faded photos of Coney Island from the 1950s — yeah, it wasn't fancy, but it had character.

We slid into a booth near the window. Eddie himself — a guy in his sixties with a permanent tan and a "Brooklyn Dodgers" cap — came over with two menus.

"What'll it be, Percy?" he asked, like he'd already memorized my order.

"Blueberry milkshake. Large. And..." I glanced at Annabeth. "Cookies and cream, right?"

She nodded slowly, like she was still deciding whether she should be impressed I remembered.

"Coming right up," Eddie said, scribbling on his pad before heading back behind the counter.

Annabeth set the menu down. "So, do you bring all your group project partners here?"

"Only the ones I want to impress."

"Hmm," she said, sipping her water. "That's... not an answer."

I leaned back in the booth. "I don't think you'd believe me if I told you this is the first time."

"You're right. I don't."

I grinned. "Your loss."

Eddie brought the milkshakes over a few minutes later. My blueberry shake was the exact shade of my mom's blue pancakes, piled high with whipped cream and topped with a cherry. Annabeth's cookies and cream looked just as good — crushed Oreos mixed in so thick the spoon could stand up in it.

I slid a few bills onto the table before she could even think about it.

"You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to," I cut in. "Call it a first-project perk."

She eyed me over her straw like she was trying to figure out my angle. "You're weird."

"Takes one to know one."

We drank in silence for a minute, the clink of spoons and the faint hum of the jukebox filling the air. Outside, the sun dipped lower, streaking the sky with gold and pink.

"So," I said eventually, "what's your deal?"

"My deal?"

"Yeah. You're... different." I shrugged. "Most people I meet fall into two categories: people who like me, and people who think I'm a screw-up. You don't seem like you fit either."

Her expression softened just a fraction. "Maybe I'm just reserving judgment."

"Fair enough. I'll try not to screw it up."

"Noted."

We stayed longer than I expected, talking about random stuff — favorite movies, weird teachers, how Leo's toaster apparently has caught fire three times this month. She laughed more than I thought she would, and every time she did, I caught myself watching her.

When she checked the time, she blinked. "We should probably head back."

I nodded, tossing some extra bills on the table. Eddie waved as we left.

The drive back was quieter, but not the awkward kind of quiet. Just... easy. Comfortable. The kind of quiet you don't feel the need to fill.

We pulled up in front of her place — a two-story white house with navy shutters, neat hedges lining the walkway, and a small porch swing that looked like it belonged in a movie. Warm yellow light spilled from the windows, making it feel... well, kind of homey in a way you don't see much in the city.

I put the Prius in park. "Home sweet home."

Annabeth unbuckled her seatbelt but didn't get out right away. "Thanks for the milkshake," she said, her voice softer than usual, like the words didn't come easy.

"No problem," I said. "Anytime you want the best blueberry milkshake in the city, you know who to call."

Her lips twitched — almost a smile — and then she got out, shutting the door gently behind her. I stayed just long enough to watch her walk up the short path, unlock the door, and disappear inside.

By the time I made it back to my apartment building, the sun was setting over the Hudson, painting the sky in streaks of orange and pink. I parked, headed upstairs, and the moment I opened the door, the smell of something baking hit me.

"Percy!" my mom called from the kitchen. "You're just in time — blue cookies are almost done!"

"Best timing of my life," I said, dropping my bag.

Before I could make it to the kitchen, a tiny pair of feet came pattering toward me. "Percy!" Estelle squealed, her little arms shooting up in the universal signal for pick me up right now.

I scooped her into my arms, and she giggled like I'd just told the funniest joke in the world. "Guess what?" she said, her voice full of excitement.

"What?" I asked.

"I helped make the cookies! And I put extra blue sprinkles so they're Percy cookies."

My chest felt warm in a way I couldn't explain. "Then they're gonna be perfect," I said, carrying her into the kitchen where Mom was pulling a tray of cookies out of the oven.

Yeah... this was the best timing of my life.