Percy was perfect.

He was a hero.

Confident.

Hot as Tartarus.

And as of lately, an emotional wreck.

Annabeth, his now ex, had dumped him. And he was devastated. Completely unlike him.

He refused to eat much, go to bed, or socialize, even though he kept getting hit on. He spent most of his time at the beach, staring at the Sound as if expecting someone to come drag him out of camp, and into the water, where he felt most at home.

Then came the day when he was sitting at the Poseidon table in the dining pavilion, the campers talking around him becoming white noise as he stared at his plate.