Impossible To Like You: Chapter 18

I woke up well. I had quite a pleasant dream; though, I can't recall what it was. I sat up on my bed and stretched my arms and back, simultaneously yawning loudly. I glanced at my alarm clock and saw that it was still nine in the morning. Good time to wake up, I suppose.

I swung my feet at the edge of the bed when my gaze hit the well-folded blanket and pillow on top that at the end of my completely messy bed which it contrasts to.

Then, I recalled last night: loneliness; Perseus; companionship; slept with me . . .

Oh. My. Gods.

I stood up instantly, left my room, descended the stairs quickly and, smelling the appealing scent of hot chocolate and pancakes, went in the kitchen, to see Perseus cooking the way my mother would cook. With her red apron that said COOKING MOM in white, bold letters with white hearts spread around it. And a pan, of course. It actually reminded me of my mother – goodness, I miss them.

But, good gods, if only I had a camera!

He looked up at me and gave me a dazzling, yet, mischievous grin, "Nice hairstyle."

Slightly conscious, I raised a hand to touch my chair. It was pretty solid and tangled. Well, that's bed hair. And, for some reason, I don't really give a shit.

I looked up at Perseus, "What . . . what happened last night?"

He frowned, looking quite perplexed, "Don't you remember?"

"Remember what?"

"We had a party."

"A party?!"

"Yeah . . ." he nodded. "Somehow, I ended up in your room and, well, my manhood in your v–"

"Oh my gods!" Fucking disgusting! "Do not tell me I lost my virginity with you – of all people!"

He appeared to be offended of my statement, "Hey, I'm not that bad in bed. I've had a few tries–"

"Shut up, Perseus! I don't want to hear about your stupid sex life!"

He flinched before he burst into laughter; he was laughing so hard, he was clutching his stomach and was bending over. It was then that it dawned on me, what really occurred last night. I don't know how I've forgotten. Probably because I had such a good and relaxing sleep.

I wanted to get the pan and hit his head with it.

Honestly, that idea isn't entirely unattainable.

I decided to just relax myself. I sighed and leaned against the frame of the kitchen's archway, arms wrapped around my chest. I wanted to say something, to end the humiliation (crap, my cheeks are burning), to lose the tension and to just . . . (my stomach growled) . . . eat!

In the end, I had to wait for Perseus to stop laughing.

When his laughter died down, he stood straight and grinned at me, "Gotcha," before returning to his cooking.

I rolled my eyes, running a hand through my hair, entangling several knots in the process, but, did not respond. I approached the dining table, sat on my usual spot, reminding me the loneliness yesterday night. I sighed through my nostrils. I still miss them.

I realized Perseus was actually talking. (Talking, because, what is most likely coming out of his mouth is nonsense; unlike, when speaking, what comes out is actually sensible – which is an idea that is utterly implausible for him.)

I placed an elbow on the table and rested my forehead on my hand, just as he inquired, "You hungry? I cooked up some pancakes."

"Yeah, sure," I said. There was a pause as I pondered if I should express my thoughts. I did so anyway. "I can't believe you can actually cook. And you even wore my mother's apron. Honestly, I know how to cook and prepare and provide food and necessities for myself. You didn't really need to do this for me."

He snorted as he brought a plate of five pancakes and placed it on the table, sliding it over to me, "Who said I was doing this for you? I'm hungry too, Annie."

"Didn't you eat already? I mean, like, at your place? Do your parents even know you're here?"

He shook his head, "I woke up earlier than you did, probably around seven in the morning." That sounded like a miracle. "And went back to my room, pretending to sleep, just when Mom entered, said her goodbye since she had a meeting in a publication house or something a mile or two from here, gone for several hours, same as Paul, because school doesn't exactly end for him. After they left and made sure they were really gone, I went back here, and, since I was hungry, I decided to cook four pancakes - then, I remembered you!" he said that in the most cliché tone and smile ever. "So, I added one more pancake."

"Wow, how considerate of you," I rolled my eyes.

"It was my pleasure," he grinned. He went back to the counter and took out two platters and forks. He handed one each over to me, and I nodded in thanks as he sat across me from the table.

He actually still hasn't removed the apron.

Taking one pancake and smearing it with syrup, I casted a quick glance at him. "You haven't removed the apron," I said.

"Yeah," he raised a brow at me. "So?" he was talking in between chews, so, it sounded like sho?

I opened my mouth to express my thoughts about it through sarcasm, but, decided against it. Let him wear it. I can sneak in to take a picture later.

I merely shrugged as response. Though, I couldn't help ask, "Why are you wearing it anyway?"

"It's appropriate to wear an apron while cooking."

I snorted, "As if you do the appropriate. I'm surprised you even know it."

Unpredictably, he didn't reply.

It was silence afterwards; the only sounds were the clanking of our forks hitting our platters, and his mouth that he kept open as he ate. I shook my head – disgusting. He really doesn't do the appropriate. I quietly wonder why; didn't his mother teach him manners? Or was he intentionally doing this to annoy me? The latter, most likely.

"Hey," he suddenly broke the quiet between us.

I looked up, slowing down the pace of my chewing as I am to speak.

"Do you have anything to do today?"

I frowned. Well, that was unexpected. I stared at the plate of pancakes between us contemplatively. Well, actually, no. Since school's over and college is the only thing to worry about (though, honestly, I don't want to worry about that yet), I don't have much to do. I shook my head, "None." I went back to eating, "Why?"

He shrugged, "No reason. I got nothing to do, and I'm pretty bored. Wanna do something?"

I stopped eating entirely and slowly lifted my gaze to gape at him in confusion and slight shock. This sort of reminded me of the lunch he treated me at the diner months ago, when he took all my things and hid them, including my wallet. "Are you joking?" I asked, nearly choking on the food in my mouth.

He shook his head, "Why would I?"

"I don't know. You have your reasons."

"Yeah, but, I don't really have one now."

"Not one? Don't you do this for the pleasure of pissing me off?" I raised a brow.

He shrugged a shoulder, "I guess, but, I've done that already."

"You do it endlessly in a day."

"You know what? Just answer my first question."

I paused, thinking. But I don't know my verdict. In fact, I'm still unsure about this. I placed my fork down, "Okay, let's say, I said yes, alright? Let's just say so. What will we be doing then?"

He tilted his head at the side thoughtfully, as he stopped eating. There's a pause, while I waited for his response.

A moment, then, he shrugged slightly, "Not sure. We could go to the mall, play at their arcade, if you're eager to, or go to a bookstore if you want, and if I'm even willing, watch a movie, eat at a restaurant, or, if you want, go to the park, stroll around, buy ice cream, go to amusement parks, observe people and make fun of them – whatever you want; we have the whole to ourselves."

The last part kind of bothered me a bit, but, I'm too shocked to care. Wow. It nearly sounded like it was a . . . I gulped. Okay. No. Absolutely not. We're just going to out as friends because we're both bored and having nothing to do. Nothing else going on. And, actually, to be honest here, that sounded fun, to a certain extent. "Sure," I nodded, "But," I added immediately, "You better make sure this wasn't a joke, all right?"

He smiled and shrugged with feigned innocence, before chuckling and shaking his head, "Yeah, no worries, Princess Annie. It's not."

I made him swore and he did.

I suppose I could trust him enough.

After we ate, I left immediately, so, he'd wash the dishes.

Once I knew he was out of my house and was in his to change, I took a bath, altered into new clothes – a simple, V-neck violet top with sleeves that reached my elbows, the usual blue jeans and sneakers – and took my cellphone before I went downstairs in the living room to wait for Perseus.

But, he was already there, his feet on the coffee table and ass on the couch, watching some move in HBO. I honestly don't want to question how.

I stood behind him on the couch and watched several scenes of the movie. It has a protagonist, Logan, who, for some reason, reminded me a bit of Perseus.

I poked Perseus on the shoulder for my presence to be known, but, he seemed to already know I am here, as he immediately turned the television off, stood up and was spinning keys, one of which was similar to a car key, with his finger.

I raised an inquisitive brow at it.

"Didn't you hear?" he smirked. "I got a car."

There's a pause of surprise.

"You have a driver's license?"

He frowned at me, "Of course I do. Why the hell would I have a car then, if I didn't?"

I rolled my eyes. "When did you get your driver's license?"

"Last summer, when I turned sixteen. I had a small party. Didn't you see it?" he furrowed his brows.

His question was didn't you see it because, of course, I wasn't invited. Not that I'd care, anyway. I shook my head, "I was at San Fransisco."

His puny mind forced his lips to form an O in comprehension. He started walking towards the front door, just as I snatched the house keys in the white bowl on the table beside the couch. He opened it, and stepped out, me only behind him.

"So, Paul gave you his Prius?" I asked, once I stepped out and locking the door behind us.

He shook his head incredulously, as though he couldn't believe Paul would give him such a car. "No," he said. "Honestly, Paul wouldn't give me a car. Mom and Paul would give me a car."

I rolled my eyes, looking up at him.

Then, his smirked widened, "They gave me this, though." He moved his gaze, as if pointing at something and I followed it.

My eyes widened.

In front of my house, an entirely black car was parked, though the window rain shields were silver as well as the rain shields of the headlights, whose edges were pointy, the rain shields making it look like the car's eyes were half-lidded. The windows were tinted rather dark that I couldn't see what was within it, and it was a bit low, the bumper a few inches from ground, nearly pointing at it, while the trunk several more inches. Even so, it was quite . . . impressive. Through further inspection, I realized it was actually the second-latest Hyundai Accent as I've heard there's a new one; I've seen it lately in television. It's a car, indeed. I looked up at Perseus, "Is this a Hyundai Accent?"

He nodded, "Yep. The newest one."

"I heard there was a 2013 one already."

"Okay, so, not really the newest one."

I allowed myself to smile a little in approval, "It looks really good. Your parents could afford this?"

He frowned at me, "Of course they could. We're not broke, you know."

I rolled my eyes, "I know you're not. It's just . . . doesn't this cost thousands of dollars?"

He shrugged a shoulder, "It probably does, but, they didn't tell me the price. Though, they did hint that they had to take a part of my college tuition fee they're saving up for."

I pulled a face at him, "Aren't you supposed to be saving up for your college?"

"Yeah, but, well, I realized that too late. Besides, we're getting a scholarship," he leered at me before jogging towards the car.

I sighed through my nostrils exasperatedly; let Perseus be Perseus. I followed him and, before I could even reach the passenger seat, he was already there, holding it open for me. He bowed slightly, "Ma'am."

I stared at him in confusion. Yep, totally let Perseus be Perseus. I stepped inside as he closed the door beside me. I looked around the interior of the car while he trotted towards the driver's door.

The car did smell brand new, and actually, it still appeared to be. Even now, most parts of the interior wore plastic and the floor has cardboard pieces. My gaze shifted onto where the radio was supposed to be – and there was a radio, except it was much more enhanced. It has a seemingly touch-screen screen, a DVD player and a USB port, and it most likely included a GPS Navigation System – the car we used to own had it; I think they called it the AVP Navigation System. While above it was the two squares that were the air conditioners.

Perseus entered the car, and, after closing the door beside him, ignited it with the car key, as it roared into life as response, turning on the AVP Navigation System. He pressed and slowly spun several buttons, turning on the air conditioner.

I was about to ask if the AVP Navigation System was included in the car – because the car we used to own wasn't – when suddenly a male, robotic voice said, "Welcome, Boss."

I smiled fondly. I remembered when my brothers and I played a prank on the car. (They were so little that I had to do most of the work.) We were trying to convince Dad to watch the Star Wars movie, because he didn't really like it, and he certainly disliked Darth Vader. We watched behind some bushes as he turned the AVP on and, the usual female voice spoke, "Mr. Chase," then it turned into a deep voice similar to Darth Vader's (we–well, mostly me–modified it a bit, lowering the pitch), "I am your father," which scared the hell out of him, which was probably the reason why he sold the car . . . I think we've forgotten to tell him about it was a prank though, perhaps because we were laughing so hard, yet, so quietly behind those bushes.

I looked up at him to see him frowning deeply, "Damn it."

Confused, I asked, "What's up?"

"Uh, the Blackjack's actually second-hand and it was already programmed like this. I tried to change it yesterday, but then, hearing it now, yesterday seemed to be a waste of my time."

I raised a brow, "Blackjack?"

"Oh, yeah," he grinned, "I named him Blackjack."

I rolled my eyes; pretty weird name for a car, "Don't you like being called 'Boss' for once?"

He frowned at me, "I prefer Sir Jackson." He looked at the AVP, pressed the button that held the icon of a musical note, and appeared a list of songs. He pushed the playlist tab above and emerged a panel of playlists. He chose the one called Fun on the Road: Road Trip! and AC/DC's Highway to Hell started playing loudly at the speakers.

Perseus grinned as I grimaced at the strident noise. I spun the volume button to the left, the song gradually softening. I glared at him, "This isn't a road trip, Perseus."

He flinched slightly as he began to drive forward, "Doesn't matter. This one is the only playlist that fits whatever we're doing."

Whatever we're doing . . . Ignoring the disappointed feeling within my subconscious, I inwardly nodded in agreement.

"So, where are we going?" he asked.

I shrugged, "Anywhere, as long as it's within NYC area."

"Of course," he concurred, "Any ideas at least?"

"How about the mall?"

He shook his head, "I realized the mall's not really fun, unless you want to watch movies or go shopping."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I don't really want to watch a movie or go shopping."

"So, amusement or theme parks?" he suggested.

I beamed, "Sure."

"Which one then?"

"Do you know any places?" I asked him, because, honestly, I don't know any at all, even after several years of being around in NYC.

He paused contemplatively, "How about Olympus?"

I stared him like he was crazy; does he mean going to the home of the Greek gods? "What?"

"Olympus – it's a new theme park near Central Park. It opened two weeks back," he replied – and probably to avoid questions, he continued, "I've been thinking about going there ever since I heard it from the Stoll brothers. I'd like to bring the others, but, well, they're in their summer craze – out somewhere with their families."

I heard the hint of sadness and loneliness in his tone and realized that Perseus was most likely the only one around NYC every summer; I mean, really the only one – with both of his parents busily working. It's not a wonder he asked me to do something with him, so, he wouldn't feel the solitude I felt yesterday night, which, as I see now, he truly understood. Gods, I never thought there'd be a day when I actually felt sympathy for Perseus Jackson, the guy I hate, yet, I'm hanging around with right now.

"Well, sure," I smiled. Then, it hit me. "Shit," I frowned.

From the corner of my eye, I saw him cast a quick, concern glance at me, "What is it?"

"I left my wallet at home."

He beamed and shook his head, "It's alright, Annie. I could pay for you."

My brows rose, nearly reaching my hairline, in surprise; wow, he's being quite a gentleman. I nodded, "Uh, sure. Thanks. I'll pay you when we get home."

He waved dismissively, though quickly grabbing the steering wheel, "No need. It's my treat."

He's being too gentlemanly. "Is there something going on here?"

He rolled his eyes, "It's called being a gentleman, Annie."

"Since when did you act like a gentleman to me?"

"Come on, Princess–" I sighed through my nostrils in annoyance at that, "–it's going to be a good day! Can't we be, I don't know, nice for once?" he asked sheepishly, "you know, be . . . friends?"

I could have said, you're mad, or you are out of your mind – oh wait, you've always been, or I'd rather eat Zeus's lightning bolt and die, or a string of negative curses. Yet, what came out of my mouth without much of a thought process was, "Sure."

He stared at me with the same surprise I have with myself. I immediately added an indifferent "I guess." As if that would change anything.

He merely said a satisfied "Good," but when he faced the road, I saw he was smiling rather widely – not his signature mischievous smile, however; it's actually a genuine one, the kind that expressed genuine delight.

I didn't realize I was smiling the same smile, until I saw my reflection on the window.

At last, after two minutes (I counted), we made it to Olympus.

First, Perseus parked the car (fortunately, the parking was free), and, together, we walked towards the main entrance, which was a large, white, most likely Greek archway, with green vines wrapping around it, leading to the word golden Olympus. From here, I could see the railways of roller coasters and tall houses and restaurants and other rides – all of which were Greek.

Below the archway was the ticket counter, which, luckily, has no line.

We approached it and stood in front of the glass window, showing this girl, who has really, really curly brunette hair, wearing a hair band, made out of vines and Lily flowers, eating what seemed to be a bubble gum as she just popped a pink bubble. She looked up once she saw us, bearing a bored expression, "Welcome to Olympus. You buying a ticket?"

Perseus nodded.

"One ticket, one gold coin," she stated.

I glanced at Perseus, puzzled, "Gold coin?" I mouthed.

He brought out his wallet and took out a dollar.


He was about to take another dollar when I saw a flier taped on the glass window; it said in bold and golden letters:

Remaining within the home of the gods for a long time?

It is suggested for you to wear a golden bracelet for free rides, no matter how many times you ride them, and to avoid disturbing or angering the gods.

At the bottom of it stated:

P.S.: Purchasing of food not included.

I tugged Perseus' sleeve and pointed at the flier. He read it and nodded in comprehension; he turned to the girl, "Hey, how much is this golden bracelet?"

The girl sighed in exasperation for a full two seconds in which Perseus and I exchanged a quick glance of annoyance, "For two, eight gold coins."

Instead of two dollars, Perseus handed over a ten-dollar bill. After registering it in the register, the girl gave him two dollars as change, the receipt and two golden, plastic bracelets.

Perseus took one as he handed the other to me, which I took and wore, just as we were about to leave, politely nodding at the girl as thanks.

We went through the gate a meter away from the ticket counter by showing our golden bracelets to the theme park's employees, who're mostly dressed in white robes, pinned by a gold clip on their shoulders, and vines sticking out of the top of their ears, some even wrapped around the head.

I wondered how they could walk around all day wearing those, when people could easily see their underwear by merely looking beneath their robes. I inwardly shook my head, frowning; gods, poor them.

I looked up and allowed myself to smile.

Finally, we entered Olympus.

A/N: Hey guys, I'm sorry for not updating for a long time. I'm writing a novel, you see, and that's pretty much my priority for the next few months.

I really apologize if there are mistakes, and that Percy and Annabeth are OOC.

And I'm also sorry for updating a boring chapter, if ever it was. [Honestly, I wanted to leave you with a cliffhanger – because, the nineteenth chapter is where most of the fun are. (:] I just hope you're satisfied (aren't you? Even a little bit?) for the little fluff here and all the other stuff . . .

Honestly, I wanted to complete this until the day ends, but then, we're going to the province today and there's really no internet there – and we're even going to stay there until 2013, so, that means, I can't really give you this chapter this year; it'll be on 2013, and I don't want you guys to wait anymore for this.

I apologize, once more, if ever I did not expect your expectations.

Anyway, at least, I updated, right? (:

Anyway, guys, happy holidays! I wish you all a wonderful 2013!

Read, Enjoy & Review! – YbM