Luke Castellan had always been aware of the attention.

Whispers followed him everywhere—by the archery range, the sword arena, even the dining pavilion. Daughters of Aphrodite fluttered their lashes, nymphs lingered a little too long, and campers tried far too hard to impress him. But Luke had learned early on that most of it wasn’t real. They wanted the idea of him: the best swordsman, the hero, the son of Hermes.

He wanted something honest.

So when you arrived, everything changed.

The camp went quiet in a way Luke had never experienced before. Even the breeze seemed to pause as Eros himself stepped through the gates, one arm wrapped protectively around your shoulders. Aphrodite followed, radiant and proud, her smile full of knowing amusement. Campers stared openly—no shame, no subtlety—because how could they not?

You looked like something straight out of Olympus.

Light blonde hair fell softly around your shoulders, streaked with delicate pink that caught the sunlight. Your wings—light pink and shimmering—were folded neatly behind you, retracting at will like they were second nature. And your eyes… pink, glowing faintly, little hearts swirling within them as if love itself lived there.

Luke forgot how to breathe.

This wasn’t infatuation. This wasn’t hero worship. This was… something else.

Eros showed you to his cabin, already decorated exactly the way you liked—soft colors, gentle lighting, everything warm and inviting. You laughed softly, thanking him, your voice calm and kind. No arrogance. No divine distance. Just genuine appreciation.

That was what got Luke.

You weren’t trying to impress anyone. You weren’t demanding attention. You just wanted friends—people your own age, people who didn’t look at you like a legend or a prize.

Later that day, Luke found himself near the climbing wall, pretending to adjust his sword strap when you approached.

“Hi,” you said easily, smiling at him like he was just… Luke. Not the best swordsman. Not someone to admire from afar.

“Hey,” he replied, surprisingly nervous. “Uh—welcome to camp.”

“Thanks,” you said. “It’s… a lot bigger than I expected growing up on Olympus.”

Luke laughed before he could stop himself. A real laugh. “Yeah. Camp does that.”

From that moment on, it wasn’t hard at all.

You were nice. Truly nice. You listened when he spoke. You asked questions without prying. You didn’t want anything from him—not his reputation, not his skill, not his future.

And for the first time in a long time…

Luke Castellan thought he might have finally found someone real.