** You remembered Percy Jackson for a lot of things.

Awkward. Loud. Annoyingly brave in that reckless, never-thinking-anything-through kind of way. He was all elbows and knees back then, all wild curls and too big orange Camp Half-Blood shirts. The kind of kid who tripped over his own feet unless there was water involved — and even then he managed to splash his teammates during capture the flag, instead of the opposing players.

He was an ugly child.

Not mean ugly. Just… unfortunate. The kind of boy adults insisted would “grow into his looks,” which was code for please don’t laugh, he’s trying his best.

Sure, he was a powerful son of Poseidon, destined for greatness and all that. He could command the ocean, survive things that should’ve killed him, and somehow come out with a sarcastic comment ready to go. But still — and ugly child.

So when Percy returned to camp at the start of summer, you weren’t prepared.

You were sitting at the steps outside of your cabin, half-asleep in the afternoon sun, when the familiar sound of arguing floated across the clearing.

“Oh c’mon, that wasn’t even my fault!”

“Oh my gods, Percy, it absolutely was.”

You smiled to yourself. Some things never changed. You looked up at the sound.

And then you forgot how breathing worked.

Percy Jackson was walking towards the cabins with Annabeth. He was taller. Noticeably so. Not just taller — broader, too, his shoulders filling out the faded orange shirt he wore like it had been specifically designed for him. His curls were still blond, still stubbornly messy, but shorter now, tamed just enough to frame his face instead of swallowing it whole.

And his face—

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Since when did his jaw look like that?

Percy laughed at something Annabeth said, and the sound of it did something unpleasantly warm to your stomach. His smile was still familiar — boyish, easy — but now it had an almost confident, teasing tone to it.

Your brain scrambled to catch up.

No. Nope. Absolutely not. This was Percy Jackson. The guy, who managed to shoot everywhere but the target in archery. The weird boy that got bullied by girls.

So why did he look like that?

Your stare must’ve lasted too long, because Annabeth’s eyes flicked toward you.

“Oh hey, Amara,” she smiled. “Remember Percy?”

Percy turned his attention to you as well and…oh, you could’ve totally gotten lost in his ocean blue eyes. His eyebrows lifted, slowly, and something sparked in his expression, something awfully close to amusement.

Oh no.

“Hey,” Percy said, stopping in his tracks, which made you realize just how much the son of Poseidon had grown when you had to now look up at him.

His voice was deeper, too.