Where You Go ― Jason Grace

i. a frat party for the dead

IF THERE WAS ONE THING JASON GRACE would never tire of, it was waking up next to his girlfriend.

He usually woke first, though never by more than a few minutes. Ophelia was a bit of a light sleeper, unless she was really exhausted (which, since they'd left Camp Jupiter, was more common than not).

Yesterday had been a relatively easy day, though, with only one run in with a pack of harpies who wanted to attack the ship. Everyone had gotten a chance to breathe, just in time for their latest mission: figuring out how to get to Greece without getting completely obliterated.

As his eyes opened to the slowly growing light of the rising sun, Jason made no move to get out of bed. Instead, he just turned, seeing Ophelia still asleep, her face a rare picture of complete peace, her mouth open just a little, her breaths moving a stray piece of hair away from her face every so often.

Jason reached out, tucking the strand back behind her ear. Part of him wished he could lay there forever—that the world outside of his cabin would come to a stop, just long enough for him be with his girlfriend until he got tired of it (which would never be long enough).

After a moment, Ophelia shifted closer, burying her face against his chest and reaching an arm up to wrap around his waist—a sure sign she was waking up and she wasn't thrilled about it.

"Taking romance lessons from Edward Cullen?" she mumbled against his chest.

"I don't know who that is," Jason admitted, running his fingers through her dark hair.

"Gi would have a heart attack," Ophelia grumbled. "She's a Twilight freak."

"Is that the movie with the vampires?"

Ophelia hummed an affirmative. "Gi used to say you looked like a young Carlisle, pre-vampire."

Jason was quiet for a moment. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment or an insult."

"Compliment," his girlfriend mumbled. "Definitely a compliment." She turned her head so her cheek rested his chest, her eyes still shut as she savored the edges of sleep. "What time is it?"

Jason turned his head, looking at the alarm clock on his side table. "Seven thirty-three."

Ophelia groaned unhappily. "Why is it so early?"

"You used to wake up at six for morning marches back at Camp Jupiter," he reminded her.

"And I hated it," she grumbled. "And I hate this."

"But you love me," Jason said cheekily.

Ophelia made a face. "It's too early for you to be this sappy, and I'm not about to kiss you when we both have morning breath."

Jason laughed, sitting up to Ophelia's vocal displeasure. "Annabeth said we're leaving at eight, and I am not trying to piss her off this early in the morning."

"I changed my mind, send Piper in my place," Ophelia groaned.

"Come on," he said. He stood, crossing the room to grab a t-shirt. "At least you're not the one who has to masquerade as an old man."

Ophelia snorted, finally sitting up. "Fair point," she said. "I don't want to miss the entertainment."

❖

Being old was not, in fact, entertaining at all.

"Almost there." Ophelia smiled at him. After a chocolate-chip muffin, she was happily awake. "You're doing great."