𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐆, luke castellan

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

Luke hadn't anticipated that Keira Blackwell could cause him so many headaches in just one day.

After the conversation in the forge, where once again she had come out on top of their subtle confrontation, he was sure that nothing she could do could make his day worse.

He was wrong.

As always, the daughter of Athena had the innate ability to infuriate Luke even without her presence.

After lunch, Luke spotted Annabeth making her way to her archery class. Waving to her from across the camp grounds, he quickened his pace to greet her. It had been too long since they last caught up. While Annabeth had been deeply involved with the campers from her cabin, Luke had shouldered the increasing responsibilities as the counselor of Cabin 11 on his own.

"Annabeth," Luke called out, slightly out of breath as he caught up to the blonde.

She kept walking, her gaze fixed ahead, seemingly ignoring his presence. Luke frowned, perplexed by her behavior, and halted in his tracks, watching her continue on. He couldn't comprehend why she was disregarding him, especially considering the significant amount of time that had passed since they had last seen each other.

With a sense of urgency, he hastened to catch up once more, reaching out to gently grasp her wrist and coax her into facing him. "Annabeth."

The girl turned, her expression reluctant, and rolled her eyes. "What do you want, Luke?" she asked, her tone laced with rudeness, clearly indicating her disinterest in his presence.

Luke felt a knot tighten in his stomach. He wasn't accustomed to arguing with Annabeth, and her sudden hostility caught him off guard.

"What's wrong? Are you mad at me?" he inquired, his voice tinged with concern.

"You forgot," she stated dryly, her voice barely above a whisper. Meeting his gaze with a blend of disappointment and hurt, she then averted her eyes towards the forest, seeking solace in its depths. Luke could discern the tears welling up in her gray eyes, and she swallowed hard.

"Forgot about what?" Luke asked slowly, wracking his brain to recall what she could be referring to.

"Our canoeing Sundays. We did it every month."

Luke felt a sinking feeling in his chest. He had indeed forgotten about it.

Every third Sunday of the month, Annabeth and Luke would paddle together on Canoe Lake, exchanging conversations about life while snacking on grapes he'd pilfered from the dining pavilion during breakfast. It had become a tradition for them since they first arrived at camp the previous year. However, this past Sunday, the third of the month, Luke had completely forgotten about their arrangement because he had gone on a picnic with Jane.

He scratched his neck uncomfortably, feeling a wave of guilt wash over him for letting Annabeth down. Their canoeing Sundays held significant meaning for her, and Luke was well aware that he was the only family the girl had left. It was the first time he had ever felt like he had failed her, and it left a bitter taste lingering in his mouth.

He didn't know it yet, but it wouldn't be the last time he disappointed her.

"Annabeth, I—I'm sorry," Luke stammered, his voice laden with regret as he struggled to find the right words. Annabeth continued to avoid looking at him, her eyes fixed on the distant trees. "I really regret forgetting. I was on a picnic with..."

He hesitated, grappling with the awkwardness of admitting that he had spent their cherished Canoeing Sunday on a date with Jane instead. Luke couldn't ignore the discomfort Annabeth displayed whenever the girl was present. It struck him as odd, considering Jane's persistent attempts to bond with Annabeth, such as offering to braid her hair or teach her makeup techniques. Despite Jane's efforts, Annabeth consistently rebuffed these gestures, and Luke had initially chalked it up to differences in their interests.