Loverboy (PERCABETH AU)

Chapter 35

Annabeth POV

The moment I closed the apartment door, my legs wouldn't stay still. My whole body felt wired, restless, like I'd just walked away from a battlefield.

Percy Jackson standing outside my building—that grin, that voice, that please—it felt like the ground had been pulled out from under me.

Days. It had only been days since I left New York. Since I told myself I was finally free of the endless back-and-forth, the constant ache of waiting for him to say words he never could. Days of trying to build a new life here in California, convincing myself that moving away was the right choice.

And now he was here.

I pressed my fingers hard against my temple as I walked, my feet carrying me down the sidewalk almost on autopilot. I couldn't stay in that building. Not when I could still feel his voice ringing in my ears.

Annabeth, please. Give me my two months.

I clenched my jaw, forcing the words out in a harsh whisper: "No. I'm not giving him anything."

The street air was warm, the California sun still strong even as the afternoon wore on. My heart was pounding, but I refused to cry. Not here. Not for him.

By the time I pushed open the little glass door of Minerva's Bookstore, my chest still felt tight, but at least the air inside was different. Quieter. Safer. The bell above the door chimed, and that soft smell of paper and ink washed over me like a shield.

"Annabeth," Minerva greeted, looking up from a stack of books on the counter. She smiled, sharp-eyed but kind. "You're back already."

I let out a shaky breath. "Yeah. I... just needed to get out for a while."

Her gaze lingered on me, reading more than I wanted to admit. "Something tells me this isn't just about fresh air."

I gave a bitter laugh, dropping my bag onto the floor. "Someone showed up. From New York."

Her brow arched, though she didn't press.

"He says he's here to win me back," I said flatly, each word clipped. "Like he can just... fly across the country and fix everything with a smile and an apology. But he doesn't get it. He doesn't get me."

Minerva didn't say anything, just waited.

"I told him I loved him. So many times. Back home, in New York, I said it until the words barely felt like words anymore." My throat tightened, but I forced the sentence through. "He never said it back. Not once. Do you know how small that makes you feel?"

Her silence was heavy, like she knew that kind of ache herself.

I shook my head, biting down the sting behind my eyes. "He thinks he can win me over in two months. But I'm not letting him do this to me again. I won't let him."

Minerva finally moved, coming around the counter. She didn't reach for me, just stood close enough that her presence steadied me. "Then don't. You've already given him enough of your time, haven't you?"

I nodded, a sharp motion, like if I softened even an inch I'd fall apart.

"Yes," I whispered, more to myself than to her. "My answer is no."

And as I moved deeper into the aisles, letting the shelves swallow me up, I repeated it again and again in my head like a vow.

No.