Summary: Annabeth is the little sister of the most famous musical artist in the world- Mal Chase. Attention-grabbing, flashy, perfect, and undoubtedly the hottest star in the world, Mal rocks just about everybody's socks off. She also happens to claim the unbelievably-attractive, up-and-coming TV-actor Percy Jackson. When Annabeth gets to know Percy, almost immediately she's got a crush on her sister's boyfriend… who also happens to be crushing back.

I do not own the Percy Jackson characters; all credit goes to Rick Riordan.

Sometimes Things End Right

Annabeth

Chapter 1

All I knew was that I had a definite crush on a boy whose name I didn't even know.

"Yes, Mom," I rolled my eyes as I cradled my phone into the crook of my neck and pulled my bags behind me in the huge airport. Like, if this place was a t-shirt, it would be a XXXL. My shoes made scuff noises as I struggled to pull the bags and focus on where I was going, which was the bag checking place, whatever it's called. Yeah, I had more bags.

It's not my fault I have to drag all these bags around, it's hers.

"Okay, Ma," I said, biting down on my lip so I would snap something inappropriate at her through the phone. "I get it, I'll call you when I get to his house, okay?"

Her voice was shrill and weird-sounding through the phone, but maybe that was because I dropped the damned thing in the toilet of the plane's teeny bathroom. It would hit turbulence right when I was texting Katie, and only I would drop the phone, sending it flying into the nasty toilet bowl.

I was so glad I hadn't used it yet, because then I definitely would not have retrieved it. Instead, since it was only waterlogged, I pulled it out and grumbled all the way back to my seat as I wiped it down with the paper towels I yanked out of the dispenser.

As soon as the plane landed I found a foreign-styled airport restraint, something like the Panda Express, and begged for a baggie of dry rice. I paid six bucks for the little Ziploc of dried rice, but it was so worth it, because the moisture in the phone was sucked up by the little grains.

Now it was working, to say the least, but the sound was really close to being shot. I snorted as I thought about asking my father to replace the phone, and smirked when I realized he would have to. It made me smile coolly when I realized my new phone would be bought with my sister's money, and I was determined to get the nicest, newest model out there. I would finally get an iPhone.

"Yeah, yeah, I love you, too," I told her, eager to end the call. Besides, I only had about thirty minutes to board my next flight, anyway; the flight that would land me right in the heart of California, where I would be staying with my father and brothers for the rest of my next two high school years.

Oh, and my sister; can't leave her out. She was the main reason my father was all the way in California, anyway. Mal could be blamed for a lot of things, actually. My constant annoyance at her appearances on the television, the reason I only saw my brothers on holidays, my parents' divorce…

Okay, maybe Mal didn't straight-up cause the divorce, but I'd bet the last fifteen dollars of my babysitting money that she was the final reason Dad moved out. She couldn't move to Hollywood on her own at the age of thirteen. If she hadn't put that stupid video on YouTube, my parents might still be together, and I wouldn't have an irritating stepfather.

After I finally had my mother convinced I was just fine, I boarded my next and final flight. Since I was still a minor and under the age of eighteen, I had to flash my driver's license in place of an ID to the lady checking tickets. She waved me on to my seat in first class.

Yeah, my seat was in first class, but only because my father had to buy the tickets, and he wanted me to be supervised well instead of flying with the other middle-class flyers. Everything my father bought was high-class, to be honest. He was a partner at this architectural business, which brought in a decent amount of cash. If you add Mal's income from her stupid singing career to my father's business cash, it's safe to say that side of my family is pretty wealthy. They weren't, like, millionaires or anything, but they had more than enough money for the family to live comfortably.

I hassled with my carry-on bag, glad that I had but the other bags on the baggage belt so they could be stowed wherever they stowed the bags on the plane. My duffel was just stuffed into the box above my seat when an elderly lady stopped in the aisle facing me.

"Honey, I think you have the wrong seat," She mumbled, looking down at the paper in her long, twisted fingers that shook with the shake of her hands. "My grandson printed off this paper for me, and it says we are seated in 22. I think you're sitting in his seat."

"Well, there are two sets of seats," I explained with a smile, hating that she had called me "honey". "See, this is 22A, and I think your paper says 22B,"

I peeked over to see that, indeed, the paper read 22B and smiled wider. "22B is right over there." I told her, pointing across the aisle. "There are two seats; one for you and your grandson."

The lady smiled at me and thanked me before she slowly and carefully lowered herself into the seat beside the window. "I like to see the clouds when we pass over them," She told me.

"Me, too," I said, making sure I had everything I needed in the flap of the seat in front of me. I had my paperback book, my neatly-coiled purple headphones, and my little bottle of travel-sized Tylenol. After my first trip to California when I was eleven, I found out that I got nauseated when reading and flying, so I always popped two pills before the plane took off.

I curled my feet under me in the seat, plugging the headphones into my iPod and flipped to the bookmarked page in my book. To Kill a Mockingbird was one of my favorites, and I was re-reading it because the new school I was attending had it listed on their "summer reading" list.

"Gran," I heard a voice say before I started my music, "Our seats are over here."

I looked up to see a tall boy with dark, messy, black hair and really tanned skin. I was really surprised- I had thought that the grandson would be smaller, and much more kid-like. I guess grandsons can come in any size, though. He had very nicely sculpted calves and thighs, along with a very nice bottom. I desperately begged God not to let my mouth-watering be noticeable.

"Actually, the sweet girl showed me that we're sitting here," My elderly friend waved the paper at her overly attractive grandson. "See? We're in 22B, not 22A."

The grandson grumbled as he stashed a black duffel bag above his seat and took his seat next to his grandmother. He glared at me, following with a shake of his head. I avoided his eyes and turned so I was squished closer to the window.

After the plane had taken off and the pilot had notified the passengers that it was okay to turn on all electronics, I settled myself into To Kill a Mockingbird and blocked out all my surroundings.

Halfway into the next chapter, I bookmarked my page and looked around in curiosity. It was starting to get dark outside, and the clouds below us were turning to swirling masses of puffiness. I was struck with amazement as I looked for the little moon through the window.

"Hey, I'm talking to you," I heard somebody's raised voice through my earphones and the noise of Kelly Clarkson in my ears. I pulled out the buds to see that the grandson was scowling at me from across the aisle.

"Excuse me?" I crossed my arms over my chest uncomfortably. It was starting to get cold in the small airplane.

"I wanted to know if I could borrow some of your Tylenol," The guy's face softened as if he thought he was the reason I was hugging my arms close.

"Of course," I reached for my bottle as he unbuckled himself and planted his bottom in the empty seat next to me.

I spilled out at least five into the top so he could pick out however many he wanted. When I looked up into his eyes to offer it to him, I noticed how green they were.

I had never seen eyes as green as his were. They reminded me of the sea, with all the miniature blues and different shades of jade, green and browns swirled together to make his glass-like irises. It was rather breathtaking, and I realized with embarrassment that I was gaping.

"What?" He asked, swallowing three pills. "What are you staring at?"

I muttered something about how pretty his eyes were under my breath before replying to him. "The bottle says you're only supposed to take two at the most."

"Yeah, fuck that," The guy sneered, "I need something to make me numb… I hate flights."

"I know how you feel," I muttered, "I don't do planes."

"Well, you're on one now, aren't you?"

"What's your problem?" I finally asked him, "Why are you being such a jerk to me? I don't even know you."

Dude stayed quiet for a little bit as he looked down at his hands. I crossed and re-crossed my legs underneath me in an agitated matter. When I looked up again at him, I was a bit annoyed that he was still sitting beside me.

"Well?" I demanded, "Either you're just an outright jerk, or you're just feeling like being an asshole to me."

"Sorry," Sea-green eyes said in a much more smoother, appropriate, and softer tone. "You just look a lot like my girlfriend."

"Oh?" I said, "That makes absolutely no sense. If you treat your girlfriend the way you're treating me…" I trailed off with a scoff. Poor said girlfriend. I mean, the guy was stunningly handsome and all, but he was a downright, complete pain in the rear. A pain in the rear with a nice body and very sexy lips…

"Actually, we're kind of off and on," He said, "At the moment we're way off."

"No wonder you two are off. With your attitude…" I trailed off again with a huff of my breath.

"Hey," The guy said defensively, "I'm not all that bad, I swear. You just remind me so much of her, and she's a bitch most of the time. Also, I'm terrified of planes and heights…"

"If she's so terrible, why do you keep going back to her?" I questioned him, closing my book. There was no point in reading now. He had caught my attention.

"She's just," The guy leaned back in his seat, closing his eyes for a moment in thought before opening his mouth again to continue, "She's very careful, you know? She likes to have it her way, and if something goes wrong, and isn't perfect, she's got to start all over; hence the re-doing and re-starting of our relationship numerous times."

"Sounds stupid if you ask me," I put in, "There's no point in starting over. So if she's weird like that, why do you keep going back? I still don't understand."

He shrugged, "It's complicated, really. I can't seem to find anybody else that fills the absence of her when we're apart. When we're together, though, I want to be away again."

"That is complicated." I responded.

"She gets me, and I think that if she was permanently removed from my life, I'd be pretty messed up," The boy mused. "Without her, I wouldn't be where I am now."

I didn't really understand that, but I didn't press on what he meant, either.

"So, do you have a love interest?" My new friend wiggled his eyebrows at me in a humorous fashion.

Smirking, I promptly told him no. "Boys are stupid."

"I haven't heard that one in a while," He laughed, running his hands through the mess of his dark hair. "Since grade school,"

"How old are you, exactly?" I asked him.

"I'm nineteen," He flashed a smile at me. "And you?"

"I'm sixteen," I said before the thought of lying about my age came up. "I mean, I'm mature for my age."

"Uh-huh," He smirked, closing his eyes again. "I thought you were at least seventeen or eighteen."

I pursed my lips, somehow agitated at this. I definitely could have said I was older.

But what would it have mattered, anyway? It's not like I'll see the guy again, and besides, I had no shot at a relationship with a boy I had met on a plane. I was overthinking things. Who ever said anything about a relationship? I mentally smacked myself.

"What's it matter?" I questioned him.

"It matters because you're hot," One eye peeked open at me, "And I've never had an airplane hookup before."

I gaped at him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Did he really just say that? So the boy thought I was attractive, too? And he'd considered hooking up with me?

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," He said quickly, "I was only joking."

I closed my mouth and turned away, back to my closed book in my lap. I felt my face heated up, too, and I knew I was blushing.

"What if you weren't joking?" I said the question in a very low voice, so quiet that I was actually hoping maybe he didn't hear me. Of course he did, though.

"If I wasn't," The guy hummed, "We'd have to make a trip to those unoccupied seats towards the back, because God help my poor gran if she was to wake up and see me groping a girl right before her."

I gasped quietly, feeling a tingling in my stomach that felt like I had just dropped off of a steep cliff or something on a roller coaster. He continued on with a smirk.

"But, since you're sixteen, you aren't exactly in the age of consent, and I'd go to jail."

"The age of consent is three to four years younger than eighteen," I closed my mouth with a lick of my lips, "That would mean that I'm eligible."

"Mmm, let's just pretend you're seventeen, just in case," He answered with a sly wink. I felt my cheeks grow hotter as he stood, slyly and casually looking down the aisle to the earlier-mentioned empty seats. Unnoticed, he slipped into the seat by the window and smirked back at me, as if challenging me to join him.

Of course I did.

Almost tripping over myself to unbuckle, I stumbled down the aisle until I was facing him again. I took the seat beside him, and he wasted no time as his hands came up to grip my face.

His hands were huge, but they were still rather gentle as he pulled me closer to him.

I had thought his hands were smooth, but his lips were even smoother. They were soft and like I thought earlier, very sexy. As I was being tugged even closer, I collided with his body. I hoped I wasn't being too clumsy.

His hands moved down my body until he cupped the skin behind my knees, dragging me slowly until I was on his lap. I swung around one leg so that I sat comfortably on him, straddling his long, denim-clad legs.

As the guy's tongue darted out to swipe along my bottom lip, I shuddered. My legs felt like they were shaking, and I guess he noticed, too, because the glorious, large hands were on my thighs and rubbing up and down in slow, comforting passes. I couldn't help the groan that escaped my lips as the sensation of his hands rubbing my legs and the pull of his teeth lightly nipping at my lip mixed together to make me feel like I was on cloud nine.

I slipped my own tongue into his mouth, and we battled until I won dominance. I happily explored, tasting the wonderful insides of his mouth. Not once did our teeth clack, or did we mingle incorrectly. It was like we were perfectly formed, and this was a successful makeout. I also noted, with extreme glee, that no saliva was surfaced when he pulled away to suck at my neck.

When his breath fanned over my neck, a chill went through me, sending me shuddering and squeezing my eyes closed. I let my hands roam and wonder, and they found residence in the hem of his shirt. I waited for approval to dip my hands under.

I was thoroughly surprised that nobody had stopped us yet. I wondered with amazement if anybody even would, and if it was even legal to hookup in a plane. I hoped the stewardess wouldn't demand us to separate or something stupid like that. That would be embarrassing.

He captured my mouth again, and I took it with delight. Kissing was awesome. Kissing him was awesome.

It was my turn to pull away as I kissed down his jaw, loving the light scuff of his not-so-recently-shaved hairline. He tasted kind of salty and fresh, and his skin was so soft.

I realized I knew nothing about this guy, besides meaningless facts about his girlfriend, and his age. All I knew was that I had a definite crush on a boy whose name I didn't even know.

And that I was currently mid-hookup with him.

I had forgotten that I was waiting for his cue for me to run my hands under his shirt, but was brought back to the idea when his arms wrapped around me to hold my waist while he shifted under me. Without bothering to ask again, I met the warmth of his stomach's skin as I swept my hands through. I was relishing in the fact that the guy had a nicely cut set of what felt like a six pack of abs when he let his own sound of pleasure slip. I swallowed a smirk and kept exploring.

I discovered his very muscular chest and the little "happy trail" of hair that dove straight down to the waistband of his jeans. I wondered what that trail led to, and smiled into the kiss when I felt exactly what it was underneath me.

Before we got too into it, he pulled away from me. I was caught in confusion when he started to push me off of him.

"What?" I questioned, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," He said, his eyes gleaming with what seemed like surprise, "Did you not see the look that lady gave us? I think she's going to get the stewardess."

"Oh," I said, fiddling with the hem of my shirt. "I didn't know."

He smiled down at me. "Of course you didn't. You were too busy admiring my body."

I gasped, "I was not."

"Oh, you were," He chuckled, "Don't think I didn't hear your sounds."

I blushed for what seemed like the millionth time on this trip. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," He said, unbuckling himself. "It was cute."

"I don't think the lady thought so," I whispered with a giggle, "I guess I woke her up."

"Ah, that might have been partially the co-pilot's fault. I guess you turned off your hearing aid, because he announced that we were landing about five minutes ago."

I so did not hear that. "Oh, ha-ha, if anybody's wearing a hearing aid, it's totally you, Mr. Nineteen."

"Miss Six-Seventeen, it was a pleasure making out with you." He said, leaning down to brush his lips across mine one last time. "I'd do it again sometime."

I felt a wave of bravery overtake me. Screw it; I'd never see him again, right? "If it doesn't work out with your girlfriend, you can always give me a call." I said, "I'll give you my number."

Mr. Nineteen smiled at me. "I'd like that."

So I gave him my number, not once thinking that I'd see him ever again.

But, oh, was I wrong.

Okay, guys, I hope you liked the first chapter of my newest fic! I'm really excited for this, I think it'll be as big as my older one, Bigger Than This. I kind of like writing about celebs... haha.

Anyways, I think this sotry is more of a T/M, but there won't be any sex (I don't think), but there will be descriptive makeouts and cussing every now and then from a few characters. I think I'd only advise 14+ to read this, but I guess it all matters about how mature you are..

So, tell me how you like it, if I should continue, etc. I'll be posting another chapter soemtime this week if all goes well.

EDIT: I changed the story's title... Sorry for the confusion

R&R, next chapter: "My mind was so completely on the make-out that I never noticed who was standing right in front of me."