» [Hurricane- Luke Combs] «

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You hadn’t had a good time since… him. Since the day you said goodbye to sea-green eyes and a love that felt like destiny. But tonight wasn’t about heartbreak — your friends made sure of it.

You told yourself Percy was miles away. You told yourself you were finally okay.

And for a while? You actually felt like you again.

Laughing. Music pulsing. Whiskey sweating in your grip. No storms. No ghosts. No him.

Until you heard it — your name spoken by a familiar voice. You turned, and there they were: his friends. Talking to yours. Smiling like nothing in the world had shattered.

Your pulse stuttered. “Oh gods… please don’t—”

The door blew open with a gust of wet wind. The night itself seemed to inhale.

And Percy Jackson walked in.

Hair windswept, cheeks rain-kissed, jacket dripping from a storm he probably caused just by breathing. He shook out his curls, unaware he’d already wrecked your progress tonight.

You froze.

He looked up.

Eyes met.

Everything fell apart.

The moon outside slipped behind clouds. Stars dimmed. Lightning cracked the horizon.

You swore you heard thunder — inside your chest.

You were doing fine. You were doing fine.

But just his sight? It sent your heart into a spiral you weren’t ready for.

Because it was him. And he was here. And suddenly it was like no time had passed at all.

Percy hesitated — guilt, longing, fear flickering across his face — before he made his way toward you, each step deliberate.

“Hey,” he breathed, voice rough as worn sea-glass.

You forced a steady tone. “Didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Yeah… me neither.” His eyes dipped to the drink in your hand. “Whiskey on ice, huh? Never thought you liked the strong stuff.”

“You’d be surprised what I’ve gotten used to.”

He winced — because he knew exactly what you meant. Who you meant.

The silence between you swelled — tense, electric, alive.

Then Percy exhaled, soft and aching:

“We shouldn’t talk about us…” A pause — one heartbeat, two — “…but I can’t stop wanting to.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass. This was supposed to be a night to move on.

But Percy Jackson had always been your favorite kind of disaster.

And now he was standing inches away… Looking like a mistake you’d make a thousand times again.