You were still relatively new to Camp Half-Blood—this was only your second summer—but it hadn’t taken long for you to figure out how things worked around here. There was a clear social hierarchy, an unspoken food chain, and sitting comfortably at the very top of it was none other than Luke Castellan. And somehow he was yours. You weren’t sure how you’d managed it. He was three years older, infinitely more popular, and effortlessly charismatic. He could have had anyone, yet for some reason, he’d chosen you. Not that you were complaining. Being Luke’s girlfriend came with certain perks: respect, admiration, and most importantly, his unwavering attention. He treated you like royalty and you had to admit… you loved every second of it. Now, the two of you sat by the campfire, the golden glow of the flames dancing across his sharp features. His hand rested lazily on your thigh, his thumb drawing slow, absentminded circles against your skin as you chattered on about something. Luke was listening, his dark eyes locked onto yours, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that small smirk of his.