Thalia POV
"Hello, People of Camp Half-Blood! It's great to see you all again!" Luke's still-familiar voice washed over my ears like water over a stone.
Oh Gods.
Why was he here?
Why am I cursed? It's bad enough that I see his gold eyes haunting my dreamscape, but in real life, with his bright blues even more hypnotic than in my sleep? No time to dwell on it now. I pushed past a girl from Demeter and two boys from Apollo, none of whom even tried to stop me as I shoved my way to the front of the que. At the head, Marcus stood holding back Chris Rodriguez from forging his own way through to Clarrise, who's been missing for at least three centuries. Even Marcus shied away from my murderous glance, even though I was aiming it at the man who stood well behind him. I stalked up the hill, my grown-out black braid tracing the backs of my knees, my sapphire eyes practically glowing with undeniable hatred, I was later told. They also said I looked like a Roman war goddess. For this, I punched them.
I soon stood before Luke Castellan, who still had to look down to see me. He was taller. Always had been, but now he was a good eight inches taller than me. I gathered the air into a thick, angry gray stormcloud at my feet. I stepped onto it, my fear of heights gone. I willed it to rise, and I soon stood eye-to-eye with my once-crush.
He grinned, in that mischievous way that makes you think he's put a whoopee cushion on your chair. "Nice party trick you got there, Thals. Learned any more?" his voice was teasing, but not in a way that made you think he was toying with your emotions. It was a competitive tone, like he wanted to resume playful banter that we could do for hours in the old days (Our record was five hours, sixteen minutes, and fifty-seven seconds. Not that I had meant to remember, or anything. It just stuck in my head.).
I didn't even respond. I instead raised my hand, as if to caress his cheek. He smiled a bit more. However, he didn't get a soft, loving touch.
I backhanded him across the face, like any girl in her right mind would never have done to a commander of otherworldly forces. The silver spikes I had long since affixed to silver rings tore his face, but I didn't care. I just wanted to cause him as much injury as I could in as short a time as I had before someone pulled me away. But, Luke just took it like a man, and reached up as if to touch his own cheek to check for blood. His hand came back crimson. But thenI just slapped him again.
And again.
And again.
I soon stopped counting the times I struck his face. It wouldn't have changed the outcome. But it must've been somewhere around 30 when I finally lowered my hand.
"You filthy, flea-ridden, yellow-bellied, son of a bitch! Do you have any idea how much you hurt everyone here? You have balls, coming back here, when all the heroes of the Second Titanomachy are immortal? Prepare to be tortured, son of Hermes." I spat at him, and the gob of saliva managed to find it's way into his eyes. I panted, my tirade, however short, wore me out. I had been pretty loud.
And you know what he did?
He laughed. Not a cruel, harsh bark, but a deep, heartwarming chuckle. Soon enough, it turned into a rumbling, bass melody. An Aphrodite girl giggled, her voice a horrible, high soprano to Luke's angelic laugh. Then, a boy from Hermes. A boy from Hypnos and his half-sister. A Hephaestus girl. A platoon of Ares campers. Before I knew it, the whole camp was laughing except for me. Most were rolling on the ground, though they probably didn't know why.
Luke glanced at me through watering eyes. The mirth in his baby blues was genuine, and I couldn't figure out why he thought my attempts to tell him off were comical. He straightened, no longer doubled over. He looked straight into my eyes, and the world stopped. Nothing else existed, except for him and me. And, as much as I'd like to say I didn't have any feelings left for him, I'd be lying if I did. Without warning, he did something I should've expected. So you should be able to guess what it was.
