(Not) Crushes and Annoying Brothers
Annabeth has been watching the new boy for a while. In the two weeks since the conversation at Thalia’s tree he has proven to be a mess of contradicting actions and statements; helpful but solitudinous, commandeering yet polite. He is disgustingly talented, already fluent in ancient greek despite having no prior practice (yes, demigods may have the innate ability to speak greek, but it still requires practice in order to achieve conversational status, let alone the scholarly language Tom Riddle seems to possess) and easily adapts to any given situation.
He is, all in all, perfect. Or, as close to perfect as one can be. The betting pool on his heritage grows by the day, though the most popular candidate by far seems to be Aphrodite. A foolish assumption in her opinion — he may be charming and beautiful (and particular with his fashion) but he is clearly the child of some creation god (she personally has her money on Hecate and Hephaestus) or, at most, a trickster god. The only real consensus the camp seems to have is that he’s too smart and/or powerful to be the child of a minor god — another foolish assumption, in her opinion. A minor god is still a god.
But that’s beside the point. The point is that, as far as she can tell, Tom hasn’t approached any of the other campers with his idea for an unclaimed cabin. Even the unclaimed campers themselves seem to have no idea what she’s talking about when she hints at the idea. It belies the boy’s caution — it’s clear now, with the benefit of hindsight, that his goal in telling her had been to determine her reaction.
It irritates Annabeth that she had been used like that, unknowingly, and she spends the days after that revelation gritting her teeth in silence as she restrains the urge to walk up to him and tell him exactly what she thinks of his cleverness. It was, part of her grudgingly concedes, smart of him.
She is, like him, a new camper. She hasn’t yet earned the campers’ trust, unlike Tom, who has been actively building connections with anyone he could. It’s probable that no one would believe her should she come forward with an accusation.
Thus, Annabeth makes sure to keep a close eye on him. She mentally catalogues where and with who he spends the most time and, when she can get away with it, peeks in on his training or his work in the forges.
“So. You like Tom, huh?” An irritatingly chipper voice sounds from behind her. Annabeth shuffles around on her seat to glare. “Woah there! There’s no need for that, I’m just joking… Though if there is something-“
“Shut up Luke! I don’t like him. I’m just observing.”
Luke leans down to put his hands around her shoulders. “Whatever you say, Annie.”
Annabeth huffs, not bothered with arguing, and returns to her previous activity. Observing Tom Riddle with a book open on her lap to serve as an excuse for her presence. Luke circles the bench, dropping gracelessly beside her but otherwise not commenting. A few moments pass in silence before he speaks again.
“Do you think…” He stops, making an aborted gesture with his hand. “Never mind.”
Annabeth side eyes him. “What.”
Luke shakes his head. “Nothing. I was just wondering how Thalia would feel about all this. Camp. And—“ he forces a teasing smile, hoping to lift the suddenly maudlin mood— “your crush.”
Annabeth takes the distraction for what it is. “I do not have a crush! I’m just observing him, I already told you! And I’m eight, I don’t get crushes, especially not on seven-year-olds.”
The rest of the afternoon devolves in semi-playful banter and Annabeth finds she has lost track of Tom in that time. Instead of seeking him out, as she would have before the conversation, she decides not to waste her day and starts pointedly reading her book (a thick text on architecture, which had been nicked from her dad originally, she had specifically asked to be translated).