Déjà Vu (Secrets #2) | Percabeth AU

4- Overthinking Things

Annabeth's POV
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I sat in my room. With my messy ponytail, some sweats and a shirt, I looked like a mess. Of course, there were more important things I thought about. Like how Percy looked different. This isn't weird is it? Thinking about my ex after two years we broke up? It was a messy breakup, meaning I am allowed to dwell into it, right? This is the kind of stuff I wish I could talk to mom about or I wished Piper was here for. I need to have that talk. Talking about how I moved on. I'm done. There's no thinking about it...

But a small part of me, just can't help but think! That's what I do. I think, and think, then overthink. And sometimes, I hate myself for it.

____

Knock knock
My focused brain was spared a second when I took a quick glance at my door. When I knew who it was, I picked up the pencil and went back to work.

"Hi," I mumbled, too occupied to stop what I'm doing. In the corner of my eye, a coffee cup was placed on the table.

"Hey," Mark said, "What are you working on?"

I grabbed the cup, took a sip, and faced him, who was laying on my bed. "Just a thought came on my mind, and I needed to sketch it out or else it'll fly away. Thank you for this," I raised the cup, "How'd you even get up here?"

He sat up. "Your mom let me up." He took a closer look at my sketch. "This would be good, if you placed a third column over... here." With a pencil, he drew a bar on the middle of the building.

"That... looks terrible," I commented, silently chuckling. "The column doesn't even fit there. The person walking up the stairs would have an obstructed view of the intricate wall design by this enormous column-"

"Fine, fine, but if your mom suddenly added a column there, then I'm the genius one." He reached for the eraser, and our faces were close enough to only fit the eraser between our faces. When he realized our faces were close, I could've sworn I saw his eyes flicker downwards. My heart started to race, and I didn't know why. It became a blur that I didn't notice that he quickly pulled his head back and erased the column sloppily, leaving choppy lines and blank spots.

I coughed. "Thanks," I said and took another sip of the coffee. Trying to move past the awkwardness, I tried carrying on the conversation. "About the dinner tonight... any dress codes I should know about?"

______

As it was my last night in New York, Mark's father, David Collins, invited Mom and I to dinner with him and Mark. It was in an opulent restaurant in Manhattan. Filled with classical music and extravagant chandeliers, it was quite overwhelming. The only thing that caught me in awe was the interior.

"-about you, Annabeth?" Mr. Collins asked. In his typical suit and tie, he looked intimidating.

"Sorry, Mr. Collins," I said, my face reddened, "I was distrac-"

"By the interior, I know." He chuckled. "I was, too, the first time. And, please, I know I might come off as an austere man at work, but you can call me David. You and Mark grew really close, so it's all fine."

I gave him a gracious smile. "Okay... David." In front of me, Mark smiled too. For a while, we talked about travel, architecture, future plans, and other things that were relevant. With my mom sitting right next to me, it was like a nice get-together with your family friends. Sometimes it got too loud with rambunctious laughter and there were times that had comfortable silence just to eat food. Everyone looked carefree, which was surprising when the carefree people on the table are the same people you see in a serious office setting.