Wizards in New York

The Grove is Pretty.

    *Reyna's POV*

    What have I gotten myself into?

    The thought dominated my mind as I led George through the trees, slashing through vines with my silver knife.

    I was never this open with people, or allowing. The guy pushed me, but instead of running away, I conceded.

    What is going on with me today?

    Was it because...no, what are you thinking, Reyna? Remember the words of Aphrodite?

    I scowled at myself of even considering...

    "What's wrong?" George popped a red berry into his mouth, speaking with that annoying British accent...

    For some reason, I didn't bother scolding him for taking potentially poisonous berries. "Nothing. We're close."

    I found myself glancing back at the ginger to check on him. His red hair had twigs sticking out of it, and red juice was smeared on his face, mixed with ashes from his hearth appearance earlier.

    Suddenly something plowed into me from the back, sending me crashing to the dirt.

    I flipped onto my back and found myself nose to nose with George Weasley.

    "Hi." He wiggled his eyebrows flirtatiously.

    I probably could have pushed him off, but I was lost in his eyes...those sad, beautiful eyes...

    George got up, brushing himself off. "Well, then!" he exclaimed. "Is this the famous Grove?"

    I snapped out of it and sure enough, we had plowed right into the grove.

    A decrepit marble fountain trickled water through the cracks in the stone in the center of a circle of weeping willows. Vivid green grass and wildflowers dominated the space. The dent in the grass from last summer where I put my blanket was gone.

    George's eyes widened. "Whoa. This is...this is beautiful, Reyna."

    I looked around the Grove with fondness, but also annoyance. This was my sanctuary here, not his. "Yeah...can we go now?"

    "No way!" He plopped down next to the fountain and laid on his back, his eyes closed.

    Gazing at him now, so serene, I could start to appreciate his more attractive features - a sharp jawline, hair that looked good messy, plump lips. But I could also see the red shirt loose against his stomach, as if he hadn't eaten in a week. I felt a surge of protectiveness, like I did whenever I saw Nico di Angelo.

    What the hell, I thought, laying down next to George in the grass and staring up at the clouds.

    We stayed this way for about ten minutes, and then I heard his accented voice pipe up. "Reyna?"

    "Yes?" I replied, my gaze never wavering.

    "Tell me about yourself."

    I was surprised. "Why do you want to know?"

    He sighed, his eyes still closed. "I dunno. Just talk."

    "Okay..." Why am I agreeing to this?

    "I am the praetor of the Twelfth Legion of Rome, and I helped save the world last summer."

    I mentally kicked myself. Great job, Reyna, straight in with the hero status.

    Then I was confused. Why did I care so much about what he thought of me?

    "No..." George's pinky touched mine, sending a tingle up my arm. "I mean about you. You know, favorite color, family, hobbies..."

    "Alright." I closed my eyes. "My favorite color...wow, I haven't thought about that in years. I think it's either purple or black."

    He chuckled. "Ooh, a punk girl. I like it."

    I snorted. "Yeah, okay. I have a sister, she's part of the Amazons."

    "A warrior girl. Cool."

    I stifled a giggle. A giggle? Okay, this was getting scary.

    "What about your parents, Rey Rey?"

    The question. I knew it had to come up eventually.

    I decided to say it plainly. "Well, like I told you, Bellona is my mom, and my father's dead."

    Of course, he had to push it. "I'm sorry. What happened?"

    "I would rather not talk about it, if you don't mind," I said through clenched teeth.

    Instead of trying to ask about it further, George just nodded. "Okay. Let's just lay here then."

    And we did, our eyes closed, until we fell asleep in the grass.