The story of how Aviva, granddaughter of president snow falls in love and looses everything.
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The first time I meet him I am in the gardens besides Panam. I have just left Seetas house and the ghost of my smile from the afternoon refuses to leave my face. My clothes are plainer than I'd normally wear, and my face is bare of most make up. I lay myself in beneath the oak tree and let myself feel safe. I am not anyone important to the Capitol in these moments. I am not my grandfather's granddaughter. I am only Aviva.
It is in these moments of complete solitude that a tall shadow peaks over me. I jump up to find a handsome boy with blonde hair and green eyes. Many do not know me, but if they did, I would not be breathing. I try to keep the capitol lit out of my voice as I ask who he is and if he has followed me. This spot if so far out of town that I doubt he merely stumbled across me.
The does not look troubled by my questions he merely smiles lazily and replies that he was taking a walk and spotted me among the weeds. "I thought you may be dead," he says and for a moment the nonchalance leaves his face.
I keep the ends of my words downturned because I am not dead and clearly wish to stay that way. "Well, I'm not. So you can leave now."
He smiles at me and I'm fairly sure he thinks he is quite charming. His tunic is a deep jade color and made of the finer materials. I notice a blue ring on his left hand and a freckle above his lip. Besides this, I am sure every inch of him has been made perfect.
He holds out a large, tan hand to me. "Finnick O'Dair," he cooes, making his smile even larger.
The name sounds firmiliar. In fact, I am sure that I have seen this boy before. Something about his charm strikes me as false. What is not false, is how highly he thinks of himself. I am not sure whether he expects me to faint or fawn at the hand. I manage to do neither, choosing to only nod.
"And you are?" he pushes.
"Leaving," I wave as I walk around him toward the lights of Panem. I am sure that I see his face turn dumbstruck for a moment as I pass. By the time I am over the first hill, he has scrambled up behind me. I manage not to panic as he follows. He is not as pulled and plucked as most citizens, but I know this boy has gone under some knife, his skin is too perfect otherwise. He does not dress is wild colors, or wear his hair blue, but I am sure he is too afraid of Cori to hurt me. Of course, he could make it look like an accident, as if I have fallen while climbing the old fence and broke my neck, or I swallowed a black berry, not knowing any better.
As I plan all the ways this boy can kill me, I miss every word he is saying. "-met before. I'm sure I've seen you're face."
"No," I lie. "I am only a baker's daughter." I hope he does not question me on the workings of bread. Seeta is the true baker's daughter. She knows each flake of the 12 types of bread. I stiffen my spine, hoping for a reprive.
He makes an acquesed sound in the back of his throat and I manage to not let all of the breath inside of me out in relief. We continue our walk and the blonde boy peppers me with all types of questions of Panem life. I try to answer them as if I am Seeta, a baker's daughter, but still the best baker in all of the districts.
It is not until he asks of the Hunger Games that I find myself slipping out of this character. A scowl lights my face and I instantly regret it. "You don't crave them like everyone else?" The boy, I already can't remember his name, has seen the face and I feel myself let go of the façade. I train my eyes on him, noticing his strong shoulders, the way his body fills out his shirt and pants. If he is planning to kill me, he is sure taking his time first.
I am angry that he has ruined my afternoon alone, angry that I have to be so afraid and suspicious whenever a stranger a word toward me. It is within this anger that I let my carefully built walls of nonchalance and obedience slip.
"The Hunger games are barbaric," I voice and watch as his face changes into something different. "Listen, Flipper, I have to-"
"-Finnick!" He looks outraged that I have bodged his name.
"Right. I have to go," I point a finger toward him and mimic Cori's scariest face. "Don't follow me."
Not waiting for his response, I turn and jog away. I am out of breath and seeing black spots as I slip into the back entrance of the palace, weave my way up to the fourth floor, shake away Hara and banish all thoughts of Finnick.
It is not until later, wrapped in the silk sheets of my bed that I begin to compare the boy to Narcissus. I fall asleep giggling at images of Finnick staring lovingly into his reflection in the palace fountain.
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