Disclaimer: Suzanne Collins owns the Hunger Games universe.
It was one of those late spring days just beginning to be tinged with golden summer heat, and twelve-year-old Annie went to visit her father at the docks. "Liam!" She caught the attention of her neighbor, a young man with shaggy blonde hair, who proceeded to pick her up and spin her around in his arms.
"Well, hello there, princess," he said, setting her down.
"Has my father come back yet?"
"Not yet. But I'd expect him any moment. He was just-whoa!" There was a flurry of motion in Annie's peripheral vision, and suddenly two younger boys tackled Liam, laughing. Liam stayed on his feet, but overbalanced and staggered forward into Annie, knocking her backward. She let out a scream before hitting the water. Sputtering, she accepted the hand that reached out to her and clambered back onto the dock. Looking down at her dress, now soaked-through, she opened her mouth to take out her anger on the nearest source-the boy who had helped her up. But he spoke first.
"Sorry, we didn't see you there-Annie, right?" He shot her a charming smile, his green eyes sparkling, and suddenly, she recognized him: Finnick Odair. He was two years ahead of her-and undeniably attractive. Unable to muster up the rage that she had been counting on, Annie simply rolled her eyes and sighed disdainfully, turning away before her face turned too red. "Liam," she said, turning to the young man, who now held Finnick's friend in a playful headlock, "I'm going home to change."
"Alright, princess."
Annie marched away, not daring to look back at Finnick Odair and his stupid friend or his stupid handsome face, and pointedly ignoring the pounding of her heart in her ears that had nothing to do with anger.
Barely a month later, at Annie's first Reaping, Finnick was chosen as a tribute. She watched the Games with her father, not daring to look away from the boy with the trident who beat the odds and won it all.