You and Clarisse were sitting by the camp’s crystal-clear lake, her head resting comfortably in your lap as you focused on your summer reading, savoring the rare calm of that afternoon. The sun warmed your skin, and the breeze drifted lazily by, playing with loose strands of hair.

Clarisse, on the other hand, wasn’t reading anything. She watched you in silence, far too enchanted by the way you slightly furrowed your brow as you turned a page, or by the absentminded way you adjusted the book in your hands. There was something almost reverent in her gaze — a quiet, patient affection that lingered in the air without asking for permission.

You had been best friends for years, close in a way that felt so natural it made other demigods occasionally wonder whether what you shared was really just friendship. After all, there was nothing particularly platonic about the way Clarisse looked at you for a second too long, or the almost ritualistic care with which she sought your approval before making any important decision. Nor was it insignificant that you always saved dessert for her, knowing her far too well to ignore her weakness for sweets.

Demigods were notoriously slow when it came to understanding certain obvious things — something that could perhaps be blamed on ADHD. Still, this was bordering on excessive. Someone was completely oblivious to what was happening right in front of them… and in this case, that someone was you.

“Do you think we were friends in past lives, princess?” Clarisse asked suddenly, her tone far too casual for a thought that had clearly been on her mind much longer than she was willing to admit. She shifted slightly in your lap before adding, a little awkwardly, “Like… I don’t know. But you get what I mean, right?”