TASTE OF YOU . . . percabeth

fourteen

EMMY HEARD A knock at her door while she was doing the finishing touches on her costume.

"Give me a second!" she called, pouting at herself in the mirror and nodding before getting up from her vanity and going to the door, opening it to see Annabeth.

Emmy smirked. "Hey. You look good."

Annabeth really did; God, Emmy was so good at picking out pieces. The way her dress hugged her body, the angel wings, the halo . . . yeah, maybe Kylie was right. Emmy did have a crush.

"Y-Yeah," Annabeth stammered, staring up and down at Emmy as if she was a platter of steak or something. "That costume looks . . ."

She didn't say a word. Emmy gets it. She's obviously the most sinful devil around, with her tight zip-up black suit, matching black devil horns and wings, fishnet tights, and her slightly spooky makeup.

"Absolutely delectable?" Emmy's smirk widened. "I know." She stopped leaning against the doorway, turning and walking back into her room. "I just need to grab some stuff and then we can go. Have you heard if Theo's ready?"

Annabeth blinked at her as she followed her inside her room. "Uh, yeah, he's ready. Waiting in the living room. Complaining that you're taking too long."

Emmy sniffed. "He just doesn't get the pain of beauty." She spritzed perfume on herself before going over to her shoe closet and examining her options, frowning. "Which pair should I wear? There's so many options . . ."

"And whose fault is that?" asked Annabeth.

Emmy turned to glare at her, before picking out her beloved Doc Martens — though she usually doesn't wear them because she hates ruining them. But she'll get another pair. Probably. "I love shoes, Annabeth, you know this." She put them on, tying the laces before looking at Annabeth's shoes. "You took my advice about the shoes."

Annabeth rolled her eyes. "Don't look so surprised."

"Can you blame me?" Emmy pouted, grabbing her purse before walking over to Annabeth and looping her arm through hers. "All of your clothes are so . . . dirty. What, do you run through the slums of the city every night?"

". . . something like that," said Annabeth. It spooked Emmy enough to make her frown and wonder what all that was about, but she didn't pry. That was not her business.

"You better keep the clothes I buy for you nice," Emmy told her, resisting the urge to pull on her dress. Maybe she did have a touch issue. "They're designer, babe."

Annabeth's cheeks turned adorably pink before she cleared her throat. "I always keep everything of yours you buy me nice and safe."

Emmy smiled. "Good."

Just then, they made it to the living room and Theo groaned, "Finally!"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Don't pretend like you don't take an hour to put on a suit and call it a day. You don't even style your hair."

He scoffed, leading the way to the door. "It is styled, thank you. Don't you see the amount of effort I put into it?"

She looked dubiously at his hair. "No."

"You don't get it." He opened the door and didn't keep it open for them. Brat. "I put a lot of work into it!"

"Doesn't look like it," she drawled. "You're half-Italian, aren't you? Aren't they supposed to have nice hair?"

Theo huffed, clicking the button for the elevator. "I should go back to L.A. so I don't have to deal with you anymore."

"You're stuck with me for the next two years, suck it up," she snapped, then looked up at Annabeth and batted her eyelashes. "I apologize that you have to witness this."