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CHAPTER EIGHT / VOL. I, BAD FRIEND
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IT STARTS LIKE THIS: a boy with golden skin and blue eyes that should be haunting, but hold hold nothing but warmth for the young girl next to him. Luke is every bit his father's son—freckles from the sunlight scattered on the bridge of his nose and his petal lips that twist into a coy smile like he always knows something that you don't. One hand is flat against the roof to support him while the other is rested on his knee, toying with edge of his shorts. His eyes are on the setting sun, watching as Apollo sinks further into the sky and Artemis rises higher, darkening the night with her presence. But Will is watching him—only him, and thinking that it shouldn't be this easy to form attachments to people who could just as easily disappoint you.
Luke pulls his eyes from the sunset, letting his gaze rest on Will who furrows her brow at his sudden attention. "I don't think I mentioned it earlier, but happy birthday."
Will looks up in surprise before a sour expression crosses her youthful face. This causes Luke to smile. "How'd you know?" she grumbles.
"Well, you always hate when campers celebrate their birthdays and you seemed particularly moody today—especially when you threw that smoke grenade in the Aphrodite cabin. Normally I'd have to reprimand you for that but it was pretty funny," he admits. "Besides, the Stolls probably would have done it if you hadn't. Anyways, I added two and two, and came to the conclusion that you," Luke sings, pointing an obnoxious finger towards her. "Are eight years old today."
Will feigns annoyance but there's nothing akin to resentment in her heart. She's pleased that Luke figured it out and that it's just the two of them who know. "It's not a big deal."
"It is a big deal," he insists. "Plus, it's been six months since you arrived at Camp Half-Blood. Six months since we met," he says with a soft smile.
She returns it.
"Now that it's been so long," Luke continues, "I figured that maybe it was time for you to move on from the Hermes cabin."
