Discolored

7: Percy Gets Smitten on the Beach

WPOV

Okay, maybe I'm weak against him, because apparently all it took for me to forgive him for this whole mess was an attempt to bring me flowers and a smooth remark. I still can't really believe I'm inviting him in tonight—it doesn't even make sense. It's the middle of the night, and I'm pretty sure less than an hour ago, I was extremely upset with him.

But there's something in the way he holds himself—it's like he's convinced I'm about to scream at him.

I thought you didn't want me, he had said. That's ridiculous. He's the one who ran from me. I think I'll probably have to teach him what communication looks like. Maybe no one has ever shown him.

My cabin is a lot of yellow, and I love it. It would be nice if the cabin was a mix of bright colors, like some pop art masterpiece, but I'll settle for yellow. Some of the cabins that have darker colors, like all the navy in the Poseidon cabin, seem a bit depressing to live in.

I glance at Nico as I lead him quietly down a hall. The Apollo cabin soundproofed our common area, so Nico and I should be free to watch a movie as loudly as we want without waking up my siblings. He's fidgeting nervously when I open the door to the common area and make a gesture that says, After you.

He swallows nervously and walks in.

Technically, we aren't allowed to have televisions in our cabins, but Apollo—er, I mean Dad—gave it to us under some kind of magic spell so we aren't slaughtered by a Minotaur while watching Gilmore Girls. There were a couple of bean bag chairs in the corners of the room, plus a long yellow couch and a reclining chair. The couch is ours, but the rest of the seating was from trading with other cabins—most of the cabins get tired of the same old furniture eventually, so sometimes we send representatives to try to barter. The only cabin that we normally don't trade with is Hermes's—they have a reputation for unfair trades. Only the most talented representative can get a fair deal out of them.

Nico doesn't seem quite sure what to do. I close the door behind me so my siblings can sleep soundly.

"What do you want to watch?" I ask, smiling.

"Oh, uh—" His eyes are wide, as if I just placed the fate of the world on his shoulders. "I'm good with anything. You pick." I try not to swoon over the Italian accent—it takes a massive amount of effort.

"Okay, then, if you say so," I tease, grabbing the remote and claiming my favorite spot on the couch. I pat the spot next to me, and Nico takes the cue to join me. He sits at a respectable distance away from me, which is a little disappointing, but we have the rest of our lives to work on that.

I put on The Office, and Nico frowns. "Will, that's a show, not a movie—"

I cut off his negativity with a kiss to his cheek, and he shuts up immediately. He's now very pink. "Oh—uh—maybe a show is actually a good idea."

I laugh, and the first episode plays.

-*-*-*-*-

I wake up with the television still playing. Nico is lying horizontally on the couch, and I'm resting on top of him, my face in the crook of his neck. I'm vaguely aware that I should probably feel embarrassed, but after the events of the past twenty-four hours, I kind of just want to lie here forever.

Nico looks peaceful like this—not nearly as anxious. His hair looks soft—I want to touch it, but that would wake him up, which would be a tragedy.

I pass the time by listening to the calming rhythm of his breathing—it's even and steady and so nice. It takes fifteen more minutes after that for him to finally shift a little—he's awake. I smile at him as he blinks at his surroundings, slowly remembering the events that led to his presence here. And then, slowly, a smile starts to form on his lips.