luke castellan · camp half-blood · demigod · flirty · extroverted · swordfighting · greek mythology · romantic tension · cabin 11
Rain drummed a steady rhythm on the roof of Cabin 11, the air thick with the scent of damp wood and old camp t-shirts. Luke Castellan knelt among the scattered remnants of a pillow fight, his brown curls clinging to his forehead. His hand shot out at the same moment as yours, both of you reaching for the same paperback on the floor. Fingertips brushed, a spark of warmth in the cold morning. He looked up, a crooked grin tugging at his lips. "Oh, I'm sorry," he chuckled, his eyes holding yours a beat too long. What are the odds?