the lake's water calmly ripples alongside the wind's force, a breeze cooler than the warm summer air, a perfect contrast to keep you the perfect temperature.

your wet skin sticks to percy's. though soon enough the sun would have dried both of you. the wooden dock beneath you (or, if you were to be realistic, underneath percy, since you had been seated atop his lap) is coated with a darker shade from the lake's water.

your fingers twiddle with a small sea green seashell, your opposite hand entwined with percy's over your bare tummy.

“percy?” your voice is nothing over a murmur.

at your sudden speaking, percy drops his head to your shoulder, placing pecks to it. “sweet girl.”