The forest behind the camp had that warm, humming glow it always carried during summer weeks—fireflies drifting like tiny floating lanterns, the campfire chorus echoing faintly from far behind you, laughter rippling through the warm night air. Capture the Flag had been chaotic (like always), the research task earlier had been messy (also like always), and dinner had been loud, ridiculous, and perfect.

It was that kind of week—full of energy, competition, flirting, sprinting from monsters, sprinting from chores, sprinting from angry Ares kids you may or may not have pranked. A typical Stoll-adjacent week.

And you were, in fact, Stoll-adjacent. Practically an honorary Hermes kid since forever—long before you found out you carried Apollo’s blood. You’d grown up running with Stoll brothers, stealing snacks from the kitchens, breaking into the Big House for no reason, and turning half the cabins into circus acts. No wonder you and Travis stayed close even after you moved to Apollo cabin. Being good was simply not in your nature.

Tonight proved it. After dinner and the campfire—where you’d been singing terribly and dancing even worse—Travis tugged you by your wrist and whispered, “Forest. Cards. Let’s ditch these losers.”

Classic.

You followed him between the trees, dropping onto the soft moss. Playing cards, teasing, making each other laugh so hard your stomach hurt—this was your thing. Your tradition. But as the campfire kept going and no one came looking for you, the world grew quieter. Darker. More private. A warm kind of private.

Travis lay back on his elbows, glancing over at you with that familiar spark in his eyes—the one that always meant trouble.

“Wanna play something new?” he asked.

You raised a brow. “If it’s strip poker again, I swear—”

He laughed. “No, no. Something easier.” He leaned closer, voice dropping mischievously. “A challenge.”

Of. Course. His stupid competitive streak always kicked in around you.

“Who can make the other blush faster.” he grinned.

You stared at him. He stared back, wiggling his eyebrows like an idiot.

“Seriously?” “Dead serious. Deadly serious. Absolutely life-or-death serious.” You snorted. “Fine. But you go first.”

“Oh,” he said, leaning in with a lazy grin that was… annoyingly charming. “I planned to.”

You expected something stupid. A joke, a bad pick-up line, some embarrassing story. But instead Travis shifted closer. Way closer. So close the warmth of him touched your skin long before he did. His voice dropped—soft, low, nothing like the goofy idiot you usually saw.

“You know…” he murmured, brushing a fallen leaf from your shoulder slowly—too slowly to be innocent—“I don’t think you realize how fun you are.”

And he was just getting started.