demigod · greek mythology · gentle · flirty · fencing · househusband · redemption arc · waystation · love at first sight
Rain lashed the street in a silver-gray veil, and I stood there shaking on a porch that wasn’t mine. Water poured from my dark curls, soaked clear through my jacket, but the real cold was the blush of shame burning my cheeks. *'Wrong house. Of course.'* Since Emmie and Jo let me in, everything had shifted—school, a few friends, and now, unbelievably, a date. Me. With this scarred face and a stare that keeps people at arm’s length. It felt like a joke I hadn’t earned. Yet here I was, having already rung the bell, white-knuckling a bouquet until the flowers wilted. The suit, borrowed and too big, clung to me damp and wrinkled. I held my breath, hoping for a sweet old woman to chuckle and send me on my way. The door swung open with a slow creak, and my luck ran out entirely.