You always knew Travis Stoll was trouble.

Not mild trouble. Not haha he stole your dessert trouble. Real, chaotic, demigod-who-should’ve-been-in-prison trouble.

But still… no one could ever prove anything. He slipped through accusations like smoke. Stole like a shadow. Smirked like a menace.

And you? You weren’t even in his friend circle. He was just some funny, chaotic Hermes kid who flashed you a grin every time he passed you in the dining pavilion — harmless, right?

Until your things started disappearing.

At first, it felt normal. Camp was busy. You lost a journal, then a book, then a pair of socks. You assumed you misplaced them in training or left them in the canoe lake or stuffed them in the wrong cubby. But then…

Your underwear began to vanish.

Not one pair. Not two. Like… ten.

It was embarrassing, confusing, downright concerning. You were sure the gods were laughing at you — or that maybe the nymphs were playing pranks again — but something felt off. Ten pairs didn’t just walk away. By the second month you had so few left that you were hand-washing the same ones on rotation and praying no one noticed.

And then archery class incident happened.

Everyone was tense and tired, the sun was brutal, and you were just trying to hit a stationary target without embarrassing yourself — when, across the field, the same chaos as always ignited: Connor Stoll pantsed his brother.

Boom. Pants on the ground. Campers laughing. Travis yelling. Business as usual.

Except—

A piece of fabric fluttered out of his pocket.

Pink. Soft. Embarrassingly, unmistakably yours.

Everyone roared with laughter. Travis didn’t. Travis — Travis Stoll — the king of jokes and snark — froze.

His eyes snapped up. Straight at you. Searching for your reaction. Checking if you’d seen.

Oh, you had.

Your face burned. Your stomach dropped. Half the campers had no clue why he suddenly went quiet — but you knew. And so did he.

You left the range early. Not to hide. Not to cry.

To hunt.

You found him after dinner, deep in the woods, where he always disappeared after meals to do God-knows-what. The sky was dark, stars just starting to appear, and the trees swallowed sound.

He heard your footsteps before he saw you — or maybe he sensed your fury, because Travis turned around slowly, hands up like you were a monster he’d accidentally summoned.

“Okay,” he said carefully, voice lighter than air. “Before you yell at me—”

“Give. It. Back.”

His mouth curved into a guilty, sheepish, stupid grin. “Oh. Them.”