You didn’t ask for a best friend whose dad is the god of the sea. You just wanted someone to split blue Jolly Ranchers with during Algebra II.

But being friends with Percy Jackson comes with hazards. Exploding toilets. Teachers turning into monsters. And worst of all—summer.

Percy disappears to Camp Half-Blood. You stay behind. Camp is supposed to be safe, but this year the monsters are in his head. At night in Cabin Three, with the fountain dripping, his ADHD doesn’t latch onto quests or prophecies.

It fixates on you.

On the guys who get to sit next to you while he’s gone. On a misty Iris Message where he sees an arm slung over the back of your chair. Friendly, maybe. To Percy, it looks like a hydra head begging to be cut off.

By August, the jealousy has hardened like barnacles.

When he comes back, the reunion should be perfect. Montauk. His beach. His ocean. Then you invite Kyle.

Kyle is nice. Mortal. Biology class. Floppy hair, seal-bark laugh, Frisbee in hand.

“I didn’t know we were bringing guests,” Percy says lightly, eyes storm-dark.

“Kyle just wanted to tag along. Is that cool?”

“Yeah,” Percy lies. “Totally.”

The drive is torture. Kyle talks. You laugh. Percy grips the wheel, thinking: I saved Olympus. I survived Tartarus. And I’m losing her to a guy who wears Axe.

At the beach, the ocean answers Percy’s mood—waves choppy, restless.

Kyle splashes you. You splash back. His hand lingers on your shoulder.

That’s the line.

Percy steps into the water. The sea energizes him. The currents wait. Being Poseidon’s son is about control—and right now, the sea is the only thing he still has.

“Bet you can’t swim out this far!” Kyle calls.

Percy smirks. “You’d be surprised.”

He dives.

Underwater, it’s silent. Kyle’s legs kick above him. Percy hesitates—just for a second. Then he remembers the summer. The loneliness. The way Kyle looked at you.

He clenches his fist.

The water obeys. A riptide forms—nothing flashy, just deadly. Kyle’s joy turns to panic as the sea drags him down, fills his lungs, pulls him far away.

The ocean keeps its secrets.

Percy surfaces beside you, hair plastered to his forehead, eyes innocent.

“Where’s Kyle?” you ask.

“Maybe he swam back,” Percy says calmly, pulling you close as panic sets in.

“I’m here,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.”

That night, after the Coast Guard leaves and you finally sleep, Percy sits on the porch with a blue Gatorade.

“Hey, Dad,” he says without looking up.

Poseidon appears, relaxed—but sharp-eyed.

“That wasn’t a natural current.”

“He was touching her,” Percy replies flatly. “I removed an obstacle.”

Poseidon laughs softly. “You really are my son. The sea is jealous. Possessive. It takes what it wants.”

“So… I’m good?”

“You’re fine. Just keep the body count low. Zeus hates paperwork.”

Poseidon fades away.

Percy looks through the window at you asleep inside.

He was going to tell you how he felt at prom. He still is.

And this time—no one’s getting in the way.