Loverboy (PERCABETH AU)

Chapter 22

Percy POV

A week after the pier, I'd started to notice a pattern.

Annabeth Chase—architect of our school's group projects, queen of note-taking, champion of always-being-right—had apparently decided that my schedule was now her schedule.

It wasn't... bad, exactly. I mean, she's Annabeth. But every lunch, she'd save me a seat without asking. Every passing period, she'd find me in the hallway like she had GPS coordinates. And whenever I so much as talked to another girl—like literally, to ask for a pencil—she'd appear out of nowhere, sliding into the conversation with a hand on my arm or some comment that made it clear I was already claimed territory.

Case in point—last Tuesday, I was halfway through asking Clara from biology if she had the extra worksheet, and Annabeth swooped in like a hawk.
"Oh, Percy already has one. I made sure," she said, handing me a copy before I could even open my mouth. Clara gave a polite smile and left.

I turned to Annabeth. "Do you have some sort of sixth sense for this stuff?"

She just smirked. "You're too trusting, Seaweed Brain."

So, yeah. That's where we were when she asked if I wanted to go to the movies on Friday.

Friday afternoon, we ended up at the ticket counter. I spotted the poster for the new Spider-Man movie and immediately pointed at it. "That's the one. It's destiny. Webs, bad guys, and sarcasm. It's basically me in spandex."

Annabeth crossed her arms. "Or we could see Cinderella. I've heard it's actually really good."

I stared at her. "You're telling me we're skipping Spider-Man for a princess movie I could've seen when I was seven?"

"This one's live-action," she said. "And besides, I already saw Spider-Man with Piper and Jason last weekend."

"Traitor," I muttered.

She tilted her head. "Come on, Seaweed Brain. You'll like it. And if you don't, I'll... buy you popcorn."

"You were already gonna buy me popcorn."

"Then I'll get you the big one."

I groaned, but there was no winning against that look she gave me—the one where her eyes went a little sharper, like she'd already calculated ten steps ahead and my resistance was useless.

"Fine," I said. "But I'm picking the snacks."

Inside, she dragged me to the third row from the back ("Best viewing angle," she claimed) and sat just close enough that her shoulder pressed against mine. Not like casual touching—more like deliberate, you're-not-getting-away-from-me touching.

Halfway through the movie, she leaned over to whisper something about the set design and left her hand on my arm. I pretended not to notice, but my brain was very aware of it.

By the time the credits rolled, I had to admit... it wasn't bad. Not Spider-Man level, but not bad.

"So?" she asked as we walked out.

I shrugged. "Better than I thought. But next time, we're watching Spider-Man."

She smiled like she'd already decided what "next time" was going to be. "We'll see."

We headed toward the food court after the movie because apparently watching Cinderella burns calories.

I was halfway to the burger place when Annabeth hooked her arm through mine. "Seaweed Brain, let's get pasta."

"Pasta? At the mall?" I asked. "That's like getting seafood at a gas station."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll survive." And just like that, I was being steered toward a little Italian spot I hadn't even noticed before.