TASTE OF YOU . . . percabeth

fifteen

THE NEXT TIME something of particular interest happened — not to say that all the time Emmy spent with Annabeth or Kylie or Theo or anyone else wasn't of interest — was on a random Thursday three days before Emmy's birthday.

She was sitting at her desk in her bedroom and not her office, mainly because she was barely doing any work and was about two seconds away from giving up and lying in her bed when she heard something outside on her balcony. She frowned but didn't move to check. She should get this assignment done. But she's tired of working, and she's tired of potentially losing the time she spends with Annabeth once their interior design class is over. The quarter ends tomorrow, just in time for Emmy to throw a big birthday bash.

Tapping at the door interrupted her train of thought. She frowned, first looking at the door into her room, but no one would knock. They'd buzz at the intercom, or plain walk in.

Then she looked over her shoulder, where the balcony was, and realization creeped in as she saw who was on the other side of the balcony door.

She got up and walked over, opening the door. "Percy?" she shivered momentarily at the chilly November air. It wouldn't even be that cold if she wasn't wearing an oversized sweater, which only looked cute and did not warm her against the chill, shorts, and knee high socks.

"Happy birthday!" he smiled at her. "You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

Emmy shrugged, moving aside for him to come in. It was a gesture half to invite him in, half to not feel the cold. "Of course not. It's all I'm thinking about. It's all everyone else has been talking about."

"Okay, narcissist," Percy rolled his eyes, closing the door behind him.

"Sixteen's a big year," she said.

He laughed nervously. "Don't I know it."

She frowned. "You're younger than me, aren't you?"

"Yeah! I just, uh—" he stumbled — on his words, not on anything, though she probably wouldn't have been surprised if he had tripped on something with the way he was acting — "I've just . . . heard it's a pretty big deal. You've said it, too, you know. And I'm turning sixteen. So."

She looked at him for a moment, before chalking it up to him just being weird. It was like how Annabeth dodged these kinds of explanations, except worded less eloquently by Percy. Emmy, like always ( almost always ), avoided it.

"Whatever," she said. "So. Are you going to let me ride your horse — sorry, pegasus — for my birthday?"

He let out a laugh, one that warmed her from the lingering chill the cold November air had left on her skin. "How did you think I got on your balcony?"

"I thought you were Spider-Man, and you just climbed up the walls or something, duh," Emmy felt a smile tug at her lips.

"Ha ha." Percy took something out from his jacket and handed it to her. "But first, I, uh, got you a present."

"You did?" her fingers closed around a small, wrapped box, spinning it around in her hands. "You didn't have to. It's enough to see you around my birthday."

"It didn't feel like enough," he admitted. "And it's too late now, so you should open it."

She rolled her eyes, but pulled at the wrapping paper until it revealed another box. She threw the paper in the trash and opened the box to see a silver necklace with the moon phases fanning out across the chain.

Her mouth fell open in surprise. "You did not get me this."

"I saw it in a store and thought of you," he said, shuffling his weight from one foot to another. "Do you not like it? I can return it—"