The Chalice of the Gods (Percy Jackson and the Olympians, #6)

by Rick Riordan

Still . . . no one knew me better, or put up with me more, or held me together as much as Annabeth, and I knew she could say the same about me—because if I were slacking as a boyfriend, she would let me know real quick.

“Okay,” I said, inching back toward the front door. “I’m getting strong Lotus Casino vibes in here . . . like low-rent Lotus Casino, but still . . .”

I am a guy of limited talents. If I can’t kill it with water, a sword, or sarcasm, I am basically defenseless. I come preloaded with sarcasm. The pen-sword is always in my pocket. Now I had access to water, so I was as prepared as I could ever be.

She was at her most Annabeth when she was thinking her way out of an impossible predicament.

This is how you know you’ve found true love: when your significant other is just as bad at singing as you are.

I suppressed a hysterical giggle. I was about to get eaten by horned serpents, but at least I was having fun with them.

“Been there. Killed him. Anyone else?”

It’s one thing being called the son of Poseidon. Getting noticed for being anything like my mom, though . . . that’s a compliment.