son of Poseidon

Chapter 1 The Girl Who Hates My Guts (And I Kind of Deserve It)

Look, I'm not going to start this the way most demigods do.
I'm not going to tell you about the first time a monster tried to eat me, or the day I found out my dad was an actual god. You've probably heard those stories already. Percy Jackson kinda made them famous.
My name is Christopher. Most people just call me Chris. I'm eighteen, six-foot-two, and the son of Poseidon, Lord of the Sea. I've got a trident tattoo on my arm that glows when I'm pissed, a divine sword named Annaclusmo that can turn into a pen, and enough power over water to sink a small island if I ever lost control. I'm also the Prince of the Seven Seas, which sounds a lot cooler than it actually is when you're living in a college dorm and trying not to accidentally flood the laundry room.
But none of that is the important part.
The important part is the girl on the other side of the wall.
Her name is Georgia Robert Roberts Chen. She's nineteen, a psychology major, and the single most stubborn, brilliant, blue-eyed pain in my existence. She wears glasses that always slide down her nose when she's concentrating, has this black hair with blue tips that she keeps tucking behind her ear, and she studies like the fate of the world depends on her GPA. She's also got a boyfriend who cancels on her constantly, and she has no idea that I've been in love with her for months.
Yeah. I said it.
I'm in love with the girl next door who thinks I'm a complete asshole.
To be fair, she has reasons. Maple Hall has paper-thin walls, and I've... well. I've brought girls back to my room. A lot of girls. Most of them didn't mean anything. Half the time I barely even touched them. It was easier to let Georgia hear the noise and hate me for it than to admit the truth: every time I closed my eyes, I heard her pencil scratching against paper. Every time some random girl moaned my name, I wished it was Georgia's voice instead.
I'm not proud of it.
That night started the same way most of them did. I was lying on my bed in the dark, one arm behind my head, listening to Georgia study through the wall. Her pencil had that sharp, angry sound it only made when she was frustrated. Then I heard the soft, broken little noises she tried to hide.
She was crying.
I already knew why. Her boyfriend had blown her off again. Third time this week. The guy never even showed his face at the dorm anymore. Just texted excuses and expected her to keep waiting like a loyal puppy.
I hated him.
My hand was pressed flat against the wall before I even realized I'd moved. The ocean outside the city felt too far away. The trident mark on my forearm burned the way it always did when my emotions got too close to the surface. I could have knocked. I could have said something. Instead I just sat there like an idiot, listening to the girl I loved cry over someone who didn't deserve her.
Then her chair scraped back. Footsteps crossed her room. A second later her knuckles hit my door hard enough to rattle it.
I opened it.
Georgia stood there in the outfit she'd worn for the date that never happened - white top, short skirt, glasses slightly crooked. Her eyes were red. She looked furious and exhausted and so beautiful it actually hurt.
"Hey," she said, voice tight. "So, mind not getting so fucking loud with your little fuckbuddy? I've asked you so many times. At least try to keep it down. I've been trying to study since my boyfriend blew me off on our date."
She glared up at me like she expected me to smirk or make some crude joke.
I didn't.
I just looked at her.
All the words I wanted to say stacked up behind my teeth.
He's not good enough for you.
I hear you every night.
I'd never cancel on you.
I'm in love with you and I have no idea what to do about it.
Instead I stepped back and opened the door wider.
"Come in," I said quietly. "We should talk."
Georgia blinked, clearly thrown by the fact that I wasn't being a dick for once. She hesitated, arms still crossed, that defensive wall still up. Then, almost against her better judgment, she stepped inside.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Neither of us noticed the faint blue light starting to leak under the window, or the sudden smell of salt and ancient stone filling the air.
Something old and powerful had just locked onto both of us.
But right then, all I could think about was the girl standing in my messy dorm room, looking at me like I was the last person on earth she wanted to talk to...
...and how badly I wanted to tell her the truth.
(To be continued)