"He cares about you, you know."

I opened one eye, and then the other, lying on my bed facing the ceiling of the cabin.

"I'm serious," Nico repeated. "He really does."

I sat up, leaning against the wall my bunk was pressed against. "You keep saying that," I groaned. "And each time, I'll say that I don't believe you. Give me some proof, Death Boy."

Nico rolled his eyes and plopped next to me on the bunk, my backpack separating us.

"Well," he started, "he brought you back to camp."

"Anyone could have done that," I replied hastily. "I'm not very stubborn."

Nico swung his legs in black ripped skinny jeans over the edge of the mattress. They weren't long enough to touch the floor, not yet.

"And what about the two times he saved your life?" he continued. "That counts for something. Not everyone would charge into battle against a Minotaur the way he did."

"It's just another monster to kill," I said. "It means nothing."

"Jesus, Y/N," Nico muttered. "You're wrong when you say you're not stubborn. Just admit that he cares about you."

I brushed the long hair that my mother once braided tightly. Sometimes it was too tight. I miss those braids.

I should cut my hair soon.

"Or maybe you're just blinded by how much you care about him," Nico whispered.

I stood up briskly.

"I'm going out for a walk," I said. "Don't follow me."

Nico clicked his tongue the way a disapproving grandmother would. "You're gonna have to face this eventually," he responded.

I closed the door and faced the same snowflakes that fell this morning.

Except they're different. Each and every one.

I swear, I can still feel his delicate lips against mine.

But it's not like he loves me.

I don't deserve love.

I don't deserve Percy Jackson.