So this is a story I originally posted way back in 2011, and have re re re uploaded it many times because I wasn't happy with the beginning but loved the story and wanted to just change it up a little bit so I could, I don't know make it better I guess so this is me making it better. I've tweaked it slightly so it wasn't so dated and yeah that's basically all I have to say. So read now, please.
Disclaimer: I have zero ownings of The Hunger Games or these characters.
"We lie beneath the stars at night
Our hands gripping each other tight
You keep my secrets hope to die
Promises, swear them to the sky."
Young Blood - The Naked And Famous
...
Clove
After a long hot summer most of us spent up in The Hamptons attending lavish events, relaxing on the beach, brunching at elite restaurants and attending wild beach parties at night; though some deferred for a while and retired to Europe for sight seeing, sun and shopping, the new school year is finally upon us. We haved hopped on the Jitney, or our private jets, said goodbye to our freedom and travelled back to our penthouse apartments in the ever-growing skyline of the Upper East Side of Manhattan. Naturally, to compensate for the return to the dull greys and browns of city life, a stark contrast to the vibrant blues and greens of the country, there will be party to celebrate our final days of freedom. It usually occurs the Saturday night before the impending doom of school rolls right ahead, leaving most of us with a banging headache for the whole of Sunday, it's our last ditch attempt to throw all responsibilities and obligations out of the window, forget about life and get absolutely hammered while we still can. I mean come on it is The Upper East Side. So it wasn't much of a surprise at all when a text circulated informing me that Finnick was throwing the party this year, I was surprised, however that the obligations didn't end there. For most of the summer it would have been fine for me to go to a party in whatever the hell I wanted and nobody really took any notice, however this annual tradition apparently required formal attire.
I don't really love most of the social scene at my school. I go to the Private Academy for National Entertainers and Musicians also known as P.A.N.E.M. It's either me and my friends; the absolute trashy blonde bimbo sluts no one really likes and the slimy weasely perverted boys that would screw anything that moved; or the dedicated hard-working 'I'm not resting until I get into Julliard, I don't do drugs, I don't drink, I don't party crowd, what a bore. Believe me I love to get absolutely wasted, hook up with some random strangers and completely forget about it the next day as much as the next person, but at least let it be for yourself rather than trying to hook up with some perv and practically flash the whole world. And sure I don't take it too far but I'm not a nun. My friends and I like to think we maintain a healthy balance, we're the people everyone wants to know, be, or date but they won't even get anywhere near.
We were at Eliza's Fifth Avenue high rise penthouse, sitting on her ornate couch which she had imported from England over the summer, exchanging summer stories when the text bomb dropped, and as it did so did my face. That is how I ended up sat in her dressing room, on the plush purple high backed velvet srmchair, with her pacing the soft cream carpet of me lecturing me on how important it is for me to 'look my best'. I don't really mind dressing up at all if I'm honest, but my whole image is based around me really not caring about that kind of thing, I'm the most laid back person you'll ever meet, and what laid back person wears a dress?
...
"Come on Clove, it's the beginning of your junior year of high school, Finnick is one of your best friends and you know how he feels when people turn up dressing sloppily, like I get it that's your whole image, and you totally work it but this is a special occasion could you at least make an effort once in your life! Please!" Eliza stresses tucking her sleek, perfectly glossy fiery auburn hair behind her ears as she dives back into the recesses of her clothes dump she likes to call her closet. Just by looking at her you can tell she's a Drama Scholar, she over reacts to everything, that amount of incessant shrieking was not neccessary, I would've got ready anyway.
"Fine, but only 'cause it's Finnick. And he just texted me saying if I turned up in anything that didn't vaguely resemble a dress he would throw me in the pool." I moan sinking further into Eliza's plush purple armchair strategically placed to pin point perfection in the centre of her dressing room.
"Well finally, oh this is amazing you never dress up, I'm going to transform you!" she shrieks, the sound muffled from inside the many chambers of her enormous closet, thank god, "so are we thinking like full on dress or more of a like a skirt and top type thing?"
"Eurgh, well I know you'll just do whatever you want anyway so I'm going to leave that to you," I say, instantly regretting it when I hear her excited squeal from way back in her masses of clothes.
She's been in there for around ten minutes now and I'm starting to wonder when or if she'll be back out again, and begin to get worried that she got attacked by her hoards of high end clothes all purchased from the designer stores on 5th Avenue or at some fancy fashion district abroad, when she finally submerges.
"Here," she pants, grinning devilishly as she thrusts a bundle clothes onto the antique white wooden dresser on the far side of the room, directing me to get into them as she goes to sort us out with some pre-party drinks. After replying to that with a quick "Thank god, I'm going to need it with you acting like a maniac," I'm left alone in the room and head over to the dresser. I look down to see a soft nude tight dress with multiple confusing straps and an open back, adorned with encrusted gold eccentric accents that flares out at the waist, them hem leaving very little to the imagination. Next to it sits a pair of nude platform Loboutins, thank god we're the same size or I'd have to have gone in my beaten brown Tory Burch riding boots. I mean I guess the outfit is manageable, considering I was planning on going in a tight skirt and a crop top I'd say it's not really any different.
Eliza returns with two small glasses and a bottle of Limoncello she swiped from behind the bar, and by then I'm fully dressed. She gushes over 'how different I look' and 'how if I'd only dress like that more often' while I fill our glasses, to be honest the only difference between this and the usual is that there's a little more effort put into the picking of the clothes. "Look, I'm going to go get changed, we're already running late, but that's fashionable right? Anyway, I'm going to get dressed and by the time we're both finished with our make up it'll be time to go okay?" she says, not really asking as she disappears off again. With a swig of my drink, I settle myself down at her dressing table and dig into her masses of lipsticks and eyeshadows. I've painted my lips a deep rich burgundy, swept on a light dusting of blush and put on a light neutral smokey eye with heaps of mascara and poured myself another glass of Limoncello when she finally rejoins me.
"Jesus what took you so long?" I ask swirling round. She looks stunning. She's wearing a dark burgundy strappy sweetheart lace skater dress with a cut out band at the waist of just sheer lace, paired with some black tall pointed heels.
"You look hot girl, you sure this sexy look isn't for anyone in particular?" I ask waggling my eyebrows as she starts rifling through her numerous makeup bins.
"Come on Clove, Marvel and I have been going out since like the end of the Sophomore year, you can let go of it okayn, it's not that weird, no one else thinks it's weird," she huffs scooting me out of the seat at her vanity.
"Sure, fine, whatever, it's just weird to think that the whole thing started after you guys had sex in my guest bedroom I'll have you know. And that that was your first time. With Marvel. In my guest bedroom. You and Marvel in the guest bedroom. While I was passed out next door," I visibly cringe as I begin to curl my hair down my back.
"Oh would you just let it go okay. Yes my first time was with Marvel. Yes it was in your guest bedroom. Yes you were right next door. Yes it's gross. Yes, yes, yes, okay? Can you just shut the fuck up about it now?" she chuckles a little into the mirror as she begins to brush eyeshadow across her lids.
When we're both finally finished getting ready, we're about half an hour late and half a bottle of Limoncello drunker. "Kay, I'm good. You good? Great, let's go," I say heading out the door and to the elevator.
...
When we exit the elevator to Finnick's penthouse a little giddier than usual we walk straight into a hard brick wall, or should I say the man himself Finnick Odair.
"You two are late," Finnick demands as soon as we've taken a step back and seen him properly.
"I know, I'm so sorry Finn, but this one thought it was necessary to get a little pre-party buzz if you know what I mean," I say suggestively bringing him in for a big hug in greeting.
"Oh it's fine, she wouldn't be alone in that, basically everyone turned up already slightly hammered. Everyone else that we care to know is out on balcony, you guys can go right through." He tells us and I nod as we head through the masses of slutty, slimy teenagers from our school and other prep schools and academy's in the area, occasionally bumping into the odd Sophomore hoping to be the first of their year to be accepted into our group, the elite of the elite. Although, if you're that desperate to blag and invite here, you're probably not likely to make it at all.
...
On the balcony we are greeted with happy smiles and sloppy not-so sober hugs from the familiar faces we've seen and been missing over the summer, handed beers by Thresh and and intergrated into the gathering on the outdoor couches that have been moved into a circle to accomodate us all with a table in front of us full of empty alcohol cans and bottles. We have partially closed the sliding glass doors that section us off from the rest of the party, wide enough that we can still hear the music but at the same time the music isn't ear shatteringly loud and we can't hear the drunken shrieks of the masses.
"So what was the haps this summer Clo? I, of course, was way too busy partying it up in France to have heard anything about most of the rest of you having fun in the plain old Hamptons. You know, massive vineyards, wine tastings, rocking parties, nude beaches, hot dayum," says Gale, our resident douchebag, he's the funniest jerk I think I've ever encountered and he knows it.
"Oh nothing much, went to some wild parties on the beach, me, Glim, Johanna, Kat, Annie and Eliza went skinny dipping with the other boys, you would have loved it," I smirk watching his face dropped at the missed opportunity. The rest of us start laughing at the look on his face when he replies, "yeah, well, whatever, me and my girl Madge got up to some pretty crazy stuff too over in France isn't that right babe?"
Madge just rolls her eyes as he slings his arm over her shoulder and pulls her in tight, he is so stoned. I'm actually surprised she can put up with it really, he must be a really good kisser because god know how that happened. They're nowhere near as cute as Katniss and Peeta who I spot subtly whispering into each other's ears, hands intertwined in the corner of the sofa.
Ten minutes later I go to take another sip of my beer and come up with air, I scan the area for another but only come up with empty bottles, most of which placed in front of Gale. Turning back to my seat I see that it has been reclaimed by Marvel, who has his hand resting very suggestively on Eliza's thigh. Hell if I'm interrupting that. I signal to her that I'm going to go back inside to find another drink and run out of there, or as close as I can to running with these heels on, I feel like a tortoise.
As I slip away I hear a slightly slurred, "Have fun honey!" from behind me like the slightly delayed aftershock of an earthquake and stumble into the kitchen.
I root through the subzero ice buckets strewn throughout the mass of sweaty teenagers and rifle through the chaos of blaring dance music and hormones before I manage to pull out an acceptable can of beer. Upon clicking it open I feel a rough hand snake around my waist, assuming it's some creep I rip their hand from waist and turn round with my hand raised.
I stop my hand inches away from the face of a certain sandy haired blue eyed boy, Cato, "What the fuck? I thought you were some creepy perv, don't ever do that again you twat," I shout, now playfully shoving him in the arm
"Nice to see you too, bitchface," he laughs as he pulls me in for a hug. The hug is warm and comforting and familiar. It reminds me of a million hugs we've had before but at the same time there's something unfamiliar about it. What the fuck Clove? It's a fucking hug chill out.
"So how was your summer? You know considering I was away for most of it," he asks, rooting the ice buckets for a drink. I hop onto the counter top careful not to bash my head on any of the sleek white cupboards. I had to strain my ears to hear him over the throbbing base, which my head was nw throbbing in time with.
"Oh yeah good, I spent most of it up at the beach house, if you an even call it that, more like beach mansion, up in The Hamptons on my own because my mum was off in London and Paris and Milan launching her new line overseas," I say with a sarcastic roll of my eyes. He chuckles as he finally pulls out a suitable drink.
"How is that going, I mean doesn't she make you like try on her dresses all the time?" he asks.
"Yes, and model them, and review them, it's so fucking annoying like my god hire some workers already, fucks sake," I tell him chugging my drink a bit more. I mean I love my mum but that doesn't mean she doesn't drive me mad.
"Well, parents are shit, what else is new?"
"That's true I guess, I'm so sorry about you and your whole dad situation," I tell him and he instantly tenses, his father is a pusher, he always wants Cato to be the best at absolutely everything and doesn't care who he destroys getting there.
"He's already forcing me to play football everyday to get ready for the new season, I'm like chill out man, let me do what I want you know?" He says, inching closer.
"Mhmm I hear ya, life fucking sucks," I reply shaking my head and kinda putting a downer on the situation.
"Oh come on Clove, you are so not fun when you're like this," he says and I gasp.
"Excuse me? So not fin when I am like what? That is rude!" I reply kind of half laughing.
"You know when you're in your old tortured, my parents hate me, nobody really likes me, cry cry cry mood."
"Erm, I can be fun!"
"Oh yeah Clover?"
"Hell yeah Goliath!"
...
Thirty minutes later we're up on Finnick's coffee table suggestively dancing to some blaring pop song, arms wrapped around each other, making jokes, people watching, taking the piss out of Delly Cartwright the big blonde bimbo who thinks she's our one point she tried to get up on the coffee table with us but her million inch heels stopped her and she fell flat on her ass. It's so loud I can't hear myself think, there are people everywhere doing alsorts of things, a few puffs of smoke fog up from various seated areas of the room, people dance, people drink and there's a queue for the elevator after people have tired themselves out too much. My arms are around his neck, his around my waist, shoes on the floor absolutely out of it in hysterics when I hear Eliza screeching something about Apaches from the balcony and I'm afraid she'll jump off. Shit.
"I think we should probably get back to everyone else," I say also noting that Finnick would totally kill us if he saw us right now on his majorly expensive white sleek coffee table but as I try to leave he grabs my wrist, "No, Cloveling, just dance some more isn't this fun, I'm enjoying this. I'm enjoying us."
"Well, me too but if my best friend is going to die I'm not going to be dancing on a table with you while I do it," I say jumping off the table. a slightly moody Cato traliling along after me away from the clamour and the shouts of the makeshift dance floor and out onto the brisk almost autumn breeze of the city night.
We get back to the balcony and the others are leaning over the glass railing playing spits down on the people below us, my friends ladies and gentlemen. The rest of the night is spent drinking, dancing, partying and making complete twats out of ourselves until everyone else has already left and the only lights we have are those from the numerous city blocks across the rest of town and the steady sound of cars on the road below us. They never really stop moving, that's the beauty of the city though I guess. I'm not quite sure when or where but eventually pass out to the sound of joyous laughter and blaring music.
...
Any criticism or things I could improve on, or any suggestions for character types or personalities would be greatly appreciated as I'm still playing around with that. Also nitpicking spelling mistakes would be much appreciated as this is un beta-ed. I'm also thinking of updating another story of mine so If you had any you were a fan of tell me and I will be sure to do that.