Her Cowboy

Chapter 19

If it wasn't for Percy's quick thinking, the paparazzi would've gotten plenty more pictures.

But before any more cameras could be clicked, Percy slipped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me closer to him. I went crashing into his chest, and my first thought was, Weird timing for a hug.

Then I realized that my face was now hidden from the cameras and a burst of gratefulness bloomed in me for Percy's snappy reflexes.

After that, it was pandemonium. My senses were all confused—all I could see was Percy's shirt. I heard more flashes, many people starting to yell, but Jason's voice—bless him—boomed above them all.

"What are your guys' problems?" he yelled. His voice moved, and I knew he had stepped in front of me. "Why are you saying 'Annabeth Chase'?" More quick thinking on his part. I hoped to the gods that Piper hadn't walked out yet—she was well known enough, and known as my friend, that they could piece two and two together.

Percy started walking away, and I kept my head buried in his shirt, my heart pounding around my ribcage.

I felt hands grab at me—unfamiliar hands. But Percy kept walking, and he shoved the unwelcome palms off of me, drawing me closer to him. Endless questions were being thrown at me mercilessly, and I pressed myself even farther into Percy, searching for that comfort his presence gave me.

"Hang on, Wise Girl," he told me calmly. I could hear his heartbeat—it was so steady. "I'll get you home."

Quickly, for some reason, the paparazzi behind me seem to have faded. After a moment, a car door opened and Percy gently sat me down in a seat. I was detached from him, losing his warmth. I kept my hands on my face to hide myself, but now I peeked through my fingers.

I was in a car—one I didn't know. It was a small car, with a McDonald's meal in the front cup holders and a car scent tree dangling from the rear view mirror.

The door on the driver's side opened and I hid my face again, but I heard Percy instead of a reporter. He closed the door shut quickly behind him.

"It's okay, Annabeth," he said. He sat down and started the engine. His calm tone belied his panic, it seemed, for I was almost thrown into the dashboard as he backed up quickly then threw us into drive.

"They're gone," he said.

I slowly lifted my head, taking my hands away. We were driving down through town, heading back home.

Home. It was weird, but whenever I thought of home, my mind brought me to the farmhouse in a small town of Colorado.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked me.

I sniffled, wiping my face. It didn't help, seeing as though my face was coated in makeup. When I brought my sleeve away, I saw a myriad of tans, blacks, and pinks. I probably looked like a half-melted doll right now.

"I'm fine," I managed to say strongly.

But no. I wasn't. The paparazzi found me. They got at least one picture of me, and that could be enough. I could be recognized, and the next magazine would be about how Annabeth Chase is in a small, good-for-nothing town in Colorado, with nobody friends and is probably pregnant with one of the nobody's kids and that I was ending my career and becoming a saloon girl.

Utter rubbish. But that rubbish would ruin everything for me. My mother would be furious. She'd take me away from here, and put me in a dungeon—A.K.A. my house in San Francisco where I was bombarded with angry fans and eager reporters who were out to damage my life even more.

My mind paused on the "take me away from here" part. I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to leave Colorado, the big house on the hill I called home now, the horses, Porkpie especially, my new friends, and—Percy.