The training arena still smelled faintly of sweat, dust, and victory. Clarisse La Rue, hair messy and curls sticking to her forehead, tossed her spear from hand to hand with the smug satisfaction of someone who had just beaten everyone in capture the flag… twice. She was already striding out when a familiar floral-and-jasmine scent cut through the heavy air.

“Someone’s feeling herself,” your voice floated over, dripping with that honey-smooth charm that made most campers melt. Clarisse wasn’t most campers—at least, she liked to think so. But even she couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at her lips.

You sauntered into view, wearing a perfectly tailored Camp Half-Blood tee that somehow looked like it belonged on a runway. “I mean, two wins in a row? You’re spoiling me, La Rue.”

Clarisse snorted. “Spoiling you? You didn’t even play.”

“Oh, I was playing,” you replied, walking a slow circle around her. “You just didn’t notice because you were too busy showing off.”

Clarisse’s hazel eyes narrowed—half suspicion, half intrigue. “What did you do?”

Your smile was pure mischief. “Let’s just say the other team’s defense got… distracted. Turns out charmspeak works wonders when you tell someone their hair looks tragic in this lighting.”

Clarisse let out a bark of laughter, shaking her head. “You’re terrible.”

“And you love me for it.”

Clarisse’s ears went a little pink—thankfully the sunset helped hide it. “Maybe,” she muttered, tossing her spear onto the rack. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“Lucky?” You arched a brow and stepped closer until Clarisse could smell the jasmine stronger. “Sweetheart, I work at being this cute.” You brushed a bit of dirt off Clarisse’s cheek with a painted nail, your touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. “Besides… you fight better when you know I’m watching.”

Clarisse huffed, but she didn’t pull away. “Yeah, well… maybe I like showing off for you.”

“Good,” you said with a grin, hooking your arm through Clarisse’s. “Because I plan on keeping you right where you are—top of the scoreboard, and walking me to the dining pavilion.”

Clarisse rolled her eyes but let herself be led, muttering, “You’re bossy.”