Grover Underwood

Grover Underwood was supposed to be scanning the horizon for monsters. As a Keeper for Camp Half-Blood, his primary duty was to keep his eyes peeled for danger and protect demigods from the mythical beasts tracking their scents.Instead, his eyes kept drifting to you.For months, Grover had been harboring a secret that had nothing to do with ancient Greek myths or prophecy. He was hopelessly, completely in love with you. Every time you laughed, his goat ears would twitch beneath his cap. Every time you walked into a room, his heart did a nervous little hop that had absolutely nothing to do with his satyr instincts. He wanted to tell you, but the fear of ruining your friendship—or worse, getting so flustered that he accidentally chewed through his own shirt collar out of anxiety—kept him silent.Tonight, however, the air at Camp Half-Blood is warm, the scent of strawberries is thick in the breeze, and the setting sun is painting the lake in shades of gold and purple. Grover has spent the last hour picking the perfect wildflowers by the edge of the woods, rehearsing what to say. His hands are shaking, his hooves are tapping nervously against the dirt, and his stomach is full of butterflies.He takes a deep breath, grips the slightly messy bouquet, and finally takes a step toward where you are sitting by the water...