**Trigger warning: instances of forced drug use, sexual harassment, forced drinking, forced prostitution, implied incest, attempted rape, implied torture, etc.)
(Katniss POV)
My legs feel wobbly as Thread passes me off to someone with perfect looking soft lips and a shark tooth smile. Johannah and Finnick leave the room with blank faces, looking for all the world like they could care less about these new orders they've received. But I know better. The dead look in Finnick's eyes had made me shudder. I look up at my 'handler' for the night, and blink a few times trying to bring the face into focus. A strong jaw...blond stubble...blue eyes with a splash of green...NotPeeta.
Uhhh
Great. He reaches out with a large cold hand and grips me by the elbow. I smile up at him when I realize he's purposefully trying to be rough, it's kind of laughable though. After experiencing the carefully orchestrated utter agony that Thread and his lackeys could inflict on me on a regular basis, his tight grip on my arm is like a playful squeeze. Anyway, I can hardly feel a thing for an hour or two after they give me this much of whatever drug they are using tonight. It feels a little lighter tonight, more bubbly and exciting than the burning and simmering. Maybe they're testing a new cocktail. I stumble as he drags me along. I laugh when I turn around and see NotGale walking quietly behind us with a displeased look on his face. He looks out of place, despite his expensive clothes and I wonder where they found him. He's definitely from one of the districts, he looks too uncomfortable here in the Capitol to be a native. Boredom and contempt are etched into his rugged features and he looks like he's fighting a scowl every second.
Maybe he's never been to a Capitol party. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
We emerge from the dark narrow hallway to a bright and simultaneously shadowy open area. There's loud music pounding that matches the hammering of my pulse. The stage is lit up with spotlights, and flashing lights in all sorts of different neon bright colors. The area beyond the stage is a shadowy indefinable expanse, and I know there are people there, seated at tables and alongside the stage but I can't really make out their faces. I guess these are the patrons we're meant to entertain tonight. There seems to be a haze surrounding everything, and I'm not sure if there's really fog or smoke clouding the air or if I'm just really affected by the drugs right now.
NotPeeta though, seems completely at ease. He grabs two glasses of a sparkling drink and hands me one. I consider throwing it in his face, but he grips my wrist as soon as he sees the intention in my eyes. He's getting too good at predicting my moves.
"Drink." He orders, his hand tightening hard enough that I can actually feel a distant twinge of pain. I smile at him and tip the glass back so I can taste whatever is inside. The night had just started and I'd learned the necessity of picking my battles.
A warmth that is too immediate and hard crashing to be alcohol rushes through me and I feel flushed suddenly, and a little like I'm going to start sweating. There was definitely something in that drink….but what? It made me shiver a little, as it traveled down my esophagus and bottomed out in my belly, pooling into a warm little fuzzy puddle.
My heart pounds away harder in my chest and NotPeeta smirks down at me, releasing my wrist. I fight the urge to rub it. I don't want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he bothered me.
He quickly reaches out and spins me expertly with his large hands and strong arms. And even though I despise him, I can't deny how graceful and lithe he is for such a large and stocky person. He pulls me close, but not indecently so, like he sometimes tries to do at practice, and then begins to sway with me. We start to dance to the pulse pounding music, and I try to keep my head from swimming. But everything I've been given seems to have been enhanced with whatever I drank and I forget for a while about the grudge match I usually try to cling to with NotPeeta. I focus all my energy on staying upright and learning the dance he's showing me.
He's such an amazing dancer and strangely the only time I've ever seen him do something worthwhile is when we're dancing. It's the only decent thing about him. He of course has the advantage of two good legs, and feet, something my drug clouded mind remembers is different from the real Peeta.
My Peeta was never this graceful...but then of course I had never danced with the real Peeta until after our Hunger Games, after he lost his leg. But something tells me the real Peeta would have been nearly as inelegant at the kind of dancing NotPeeta has been teaching me, even with two good legs. The steps are very different from the easy slow dancing or carefully orchestrated formal dances we learned for the victory tours.
Still, the real Peeta was a perfectly decent dancer with practice, and after all the years we had been practicing together, even if a little heavy footed. I'd trade anything to be dancing this song with my slightly clumsy blond boy, instead of this light footed, smooth imposter. We move deliberately off the stage, and down to the small dance floor in front of the stage. We dance back and forth, our moves not so much choreographed, but matching more on instinct. The dark atmosphere and the loud fast music demanded more closeness than the dancing we performed for the interviews. This time we're not singing, and the only thing I have to focus on is the movement of our bodies and the beat. And I try to think of all the ways he is different from Peeta.
Peeta would not know how to dance like this.
Peeta would not dance so freely.
Peeta would at least break a sweat after three or four of these kinds of dances, especially in that tight fitted suit. But the imposter only glistened inhumanly and never faltered in his steps.
Up close NotPeeta smelled like something phony. Indefinitely sweet and unbearable. A popular Capitol cologne I'm sure. The men from here liked to smell as sweet as the women, and I had always found it just a tad odd. I missed the smell of cinnamon and dill and the spicy aftershave that belonged to the large, warm, and familiar body I wanted to hold me more than anything. But he was hundreds of miles away, and I was here in the arms of this stranger who was running his fingers through my hair and dancing with me to this dangerously fast and rhythmic song. He was guiding my hips and gently pulling me along in the new movements.
He was always patient and gentle when he was teaching me new dances. It set my teeth on edge. I distrusted his gentle side more than I did his cruel and aggressive side. Still, I tried my best to mimic the movements he was coaxing from me. I didn't want to make things worse for Johanna and Finnick. My lack of enthusiasm could be taken out on them tonight, Thread had already threatened all of us several times. I looked around but couldn't see them, the rest of the place was so dark the further away from the stage lights you got.
"Roll your hips in time with the beat," NotPeeta instructs and I can feel my eyebrows knit together in confusion.
He looks down at the confused face I'm making and chuckles. I don't like the sound, or the sparkle in his eye.
"You're such an innocent," He tells me in a whisper that makes my skin crawl. But before I can throw out an insult, he grasps my hips with his big hands and pulls me flush against his body and moves against me.
I gasp. He had moved his hips in time to the music, but the upwards motion combined with the fluidness of his descent….
The move was undeniably...sexual, especially the way he demonstrated it.
He grins at me.
"Like that." He tells me, still holding a wicked smile. I narrow my eyes at him, and push against his chest, with all my strength. He takes only one involuntary step back and laughs at me, before pulling me against him again.
"Need me to demonstrate that particular move again, sweetheart?" He asks, his mouth bent low over my ear and I snap my head to the side, catching him off guard. My temple knocked against his cheekbone and nose. It was just a glancing blow, but he backs off, cursing under his breath.
"Careful, you're supposed to be guarding the goods tonight, remember?" I say in a mocking voice and he scowls at me. But it's a good way to get him to back off, reminding him that he's actually supposed to be preventing this kind of inappropriate contact.
"You just wait until after they sell you, Girl on Fire. You'll be begging for me back after the parade of soft, doughy Cabinet Ministers and their tiny dicks every night." He tells me with a hard narrowing of his eyes. I laugh full in his face and he growls angrily. He spins me away from him in disgust.
The move sends me stumbling into the chest of someone else. Two small, sweaty hands catch me and help me right myself, but even after I gain my footing they don't let go. I flinch when I catch the look on the red pudgy face that stares across at me.
I look for NotPeeta, but he's nowhere in sight. Fucking bastard.
I look back at the man who caught me, hoping to say a quick thank you and make my escape. But my gratitude dies on my lips, when I recognize the face before me. It's the Minister of Energy Production. What was his name? I racked my brain but I couldn't remember. But right now I wasn't sure he would even respond. He looked completely drunk, and he reeked of alcohol. If I could tell that in my state he must really be bad off. I took a step away, and he reflexively followed, not letting go of my wrists.
"Mockinjay," He breathed out in a lust filled tenor note. I cringed, and tried to pry myself out of his grasp.
"Where are you going? You're supposed to entertain us tonight, you can't leave." He says in an angry voice as he pushes his face closer to mine. I craned my neck and face as far away from him as I could.
His words threaten to trap me, but then I remember faintly the instructions Thread had given. I don't know what the men here tonight expected from me, but they were out of luck. They weren't allowed to touch me yet, at least for tonight. I looked around for NotGale, hoping he would at least be willing to do his job as my handler tonight and scare this handsy drunk away from me.
The Minister tried to step closer to me. Now he's practically salivating over me in the provocative red dress they put me in. He reaches out to paw at my hip, and I hiss at him menacingly, he backs up a little. With one final push of strength, I wrench myself out of his hands and smooth down my dress casually.
"I'm providing the music tonight. But I'm not supposed to have any inappropriate contact with the guests." I tell him, as my eyes catch on NotGale's uncommon height. He's leaning against the wall, watching the party with a sullen expression, but when he sees me looking at him he reluctantly leaves his spot against the wall and begins making his way toward me.
"Seriously? I'd heard that there was going to be a double show tonight, two victors at once. I paid good money to get in here tonight. Thought Finnick or Gloss would be pounding you for sure." He says with a disgusting chortle and I feel my face drain of color.
WHAT? What was he talking about? People wanted to pay money to watch me have sex with Finnick Odiar? And other victors? WHAT?
Gale, or no, it's not really him, it's NotGale, I think unsteadily, reaches me just as I turn away from the beast of a man, and try my best not to vomit all over the floor.
"Everything alright over here, Minister Pellitor?" NotGale asks in a dangerously low voice that is less like politeness and more like a threat. The minnister blanches and backs up a few steps. NotGale is so much taller than him, much like his real life counterpart, he towers over people easily.
"Just fine, I was just helping Miss Everdeen regain her balance. She seems a bit unsteady. Might want to tell them to ease back on her dosage. She seems a little….unreliable." He says quietly, before scurrying off like the rat he is.
My lip curls in revulsion. Had he seriously just tried to insinuate that I was crazy or something? Did everyone think I was that drugged? My head throbbed with the effort to try and clear my thoughts. Maybe I was that high, I really had no idea sometimes. It seemed though that my body was becoming more and more accustomed to foreign substances they kept giving me. I was burning them off quicker and quicker these days.
NotGale looked over at me with annoyance.
I scowled at him.
"Where's…..Peeta?" He asks quietly, after a pause because he can't seem to find the right words to call the doppleganger. His words anger me, infuriate me really.
"THAT IS NOT PEETA!" I practically scream, and his eyes widen for a second. But I don't care. How dare he call that monster by the same name as my perfect boy with the bread. They were nothing alike. Peeta wasn't a monster, and I wouldn't let anyone take his name and apply it to that...psycho.
Gale blinks at me for a second, before his face gets red and angry and he's pulling me off to the side, behind a small curtain. There's no one behind the curtain, just a table with a circular padded sitting bench.
"Keep your goddamn voice down you stupid idiot!" He exclaims, angrily, before releasing me and taking a step back. I narrow my eyes at him, my blood boiling at his words, at his horrible compliance with all this, his indifference. NotPeeta I at least could understand, he was obviously evil and despicable. But NotGale often threw me for a loop. He didn't strike me as a morally bankrupt person. Yet I could find no other explaination for why he was involved in my torture and enslavement. He acted like he found his surroundings and the people he was working with despicable, but there were moments when he was just as bad as them.
There's a small row of clear champagne glasses on the table and I reach for one, intending to break one and use it as a weapon, against him, against myself. The rush of the idea spurred me to action. But he lunges at me, intending to knock the glass from my hand. But I'm determined, and really motivated suddenly. I held onto the glass and twisted away from him, so that we both fell against the table in a messy heap.
All I could think about as he tried to pry my hand open was what the minister of energy had said.
The thought of being forced to have sex with a stranger was a particular sort of horror, even after all I'd been through. But it was a horror I had come to no certain terms with. It was at least expected and familiar, like a Hunger Games nightmare. But the thought of having sex with other victors, in front of an audience, was even more unbearable. I held onto the glass, almost crushing the glass stem. But NotGale was so strong, and bigger than me. I only held out against him for another second, before he used his size and weight to get the upper hand. The glass clattered against the table as it fell from my hand, and I heard it roll softly across the smooth surface and fall to the cushioned seat.
A traitorous sob escaped me as the thought of my escape, my longed for death rolled away and clattered almost soundlessly out of reach. I hadn't cried in so long. Not even when they gave me venom almost everyday now. Sure I screamed, but I hadn't felt tears on my face in days, maybe weeks. I couldn't afford to start up like that again, so I quickly swallowed down my crippling despair and let my body go limp under NotGale, signalling the end to my ill-timed rebellion. This battle was lost.
But I had learned that there were infinitely more opportunities in a place like this than there were in my cell, or other places in the training center. If I somehow found a way to get away for a second later tonight...
We stay like that for a brief second, and I look up at NotGale, wondering why he hasn't let me up.
He stares at me blankly. His grey-blue eyes digging into me, searching for something, I don't know what. I stare back at him, matching him in lack of expression. Finally, he gets up quickly and hauls me up after him.
"Cut that shit out, and behave yourself." He says to me quietly before ushering me out of the room behind the curtain and back into the larger room.
"Go eat a bag of crusty dicks." I reply, as contemptuously as possible and I can see his jaw clench in frustration. My time spent in the torture rooms, and with the crass prison guards has left me with an expanded vocabulary, and my torture has given me lots of motivation to express myself flippatly whenever anger rose up inside.
"Thought that was your department." He replies, equally flippant. I freeze, then I see red.
I haul off and punch him right in the nose. I hear a satisfying crunch, and he stumbles back. My knuckles are throbbing, but I don't stick around to hear him start cursing me up and down. I take off. If I can find another room, another empty room and some glass or silverware, or anything…
I hear the pounding of NotGale's footsteps echoing behind me and I fight the urge to laugh or cry or scream. I dash into the first curtain off the area I can find and pray it's empty.
It's not.
It's not empty by a long shot.
I stare open mouthed as Finnick kneels on the cushioned bench between a man and woman. The woman is running her long manicured fingers over his bare chest. She's licking his bare skin, up and down his stomach.
The man behind Finnick is running his hands up and down Finnick's back, cupping his ass and pulling his underwear down.
And Finnick, poor Finnick has his eyes closed and his teeth gritted. His muscular frame is held taut with energy, and I know it's not because he wants this. It's because he's trying to force himself not to move, to stay and let these people touch him.
I want to screech, and vomit at the same time.
But all that ends up coming out is a strangled sound.
The three of their heads snap up towards me, and the woman looks startled. The man appears surprised at first, but then he gives me a lazy smile.
"What's this? We only paid for one Victor tonight." He says in an unconcerned way, as he smiles over at me.
He looks remarkably similar to the woman on the other side of Finnick. They both have dark brown hair, and look to be in their 40s. Though they both have obviously had surgery on their eyes. The man's eyes are an inhuman lavender color, and the woman's eyes are an unnatural gold color. Other than that though, they seem more or less normal for Capitol people.
They are still staring at me, waiting for me to respond, but Finnick looks embarrassed and stricken.
I get a sharp pain when I see the humiliation seeping into his features.
It was the same look Deen used to get whenever we'd talk about what they had done to him in the Capitol.
And suddenly, I'm struck by the moment. It's like I'm looking at an older, blond version of Deen. A young beautiful man sandwiched between two deviant strangers, expected to submit to their whims and advances.
The man had won the Hunger Games for god's sake. He'd survived torture, and mutts, and the death of his mentor. And now they wanted to take more from him. It made me angry. But I knew at that moment that we'd never fight our way out of this. NotGale was probably closing in on me right now, and I'd only have a split second to help Finnick.
It was too late to run out of here, I didn't have enough time to go looking for another empty area. Besides, Finnick had helped me once. He hadn't left me to the mercy of those guards who wanted to see me naked.
I owed him.
"Actually I was looking for Finnick. I need him for my act." I say quietly and I look at Finnick pointedly.
"But we already paid!" The woman exclaims and begins to pout.
"Oh, this will be better than whatever you initially bought. I promise. Why don't the both of you follow us down to the stage and sit right in the front row? I'll dedicate my performance to you in front of the whole party, and then you'll get to see two victors for the price of one." I say in a chirpy happy voice, hoping I'm selling this correctly.
"Katniss?" Finnick looks over at me concernedly, and I just beam at him with false confidence.
"Oh, come on Finnick, the whole sex with a victor thing has been done to death. Don't you think these fine people want something new? Something more substantial? My bidding won't be done for sometime...but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun while we wait now does it?" I ask and I wink at them all, hoping to all heaven that I sound as confident and alluring as I am pretending to be.
Something obviously works, because the woman lips her lips hungrily, and the man's gaze darkens.
"Oh, Citron! We'd be the first to get something out of her! And in front of everyone too! And it's unofficial…..so sneaky! You know I love sneaky! Can we please?" The woman asks and pleads with the man.
He's quiet and seems to think this over, all the while looking me up and down.
And while I probably look high and maybe a little out of sorts, but I also know that they prepped us all very well tonight. I look the part, in the red dress. I make myself throw out a lazy smile that matches the one the man had been wearing earlier.
I want to convince him. He seems to be the one in charge. My offer was vague, but I hope it was at least appealing enough. After a beat, he slowly returns my smile.
"Your nickname suits you dear. I have a feeling you'll have set more than a few hearts on fire before the night is over." He tells me in a low, seductive tone and I tell myself to play along.
"Just imagine how many Finnick and I can light up together." I tell him in the closest thing to a purr I can manage.
At that the man lets out a loud amused laugh. He releases his hold on Finnick and stands up. The woman joins in his laugh, rises as well, and Finnick just looks shocked for a moment, before he realizes they've released him.
I reach out my hand to him, and he moves toward me seemingly bewildered.
"What are your names? So I can dedicate my performance properly?" I ask them as Finnick comes to stand beside me, grasping my hand tightly.
"The Brightfall twins." The man says quickly as he holds the curtain open for Finnick and I.
I stomp down on the urge to vomit, again. Twins? As in brother and sister? Oh, just when I thought the Capitol couldn't repulse me any worse…
Finnick's grip tightens on my hands and he shoots me a split second look, warning me to stay in character, and I plaster a smile onto my face.
"How wonderful. There's no way I'll forget that!" I reply cheerily and the woman smiles at me in what I would call a charming manner if I hadn't just walked in on her a few minutes ago intending to have a three some with her own brother.
"You do that dear." The man says and he reaches out and cups my bottom quickly, lightly, but still it's unexpected and wholly unwelcome. I stiffen and he chuckles.
"Sorry, bidding is still on and all that. But you look positively gorgeous in red, dear. Couldn't help myself." He adds with a sheepish shrug. Finnick shoots the man a look.
And I just want to break his nose, like I probably broke NotGale's.
Speak of the devil. He comes rushing over, the second we get two steps back into the main area.
"There you are!" He exclaims in exasperation. He reaches out to grab my arm but I duck away from him.
"Yes, I know I'm running late. I had to get Finnick for the song. We're going now ok?" I tell him over my shoulder as I drag Finnick with me to the stage.
NotGale gets lost in the crush of people who are beginning to trail after us and pile up at the front as they see me making my way to the stage.
"Katniss, not that I'm not grateful but what the hell am I supposed to do when you start singing? Play the tambourine?" He asks incredulously, but there's a hint of smile on his lips. He's happy to be away from those horrible twins and he's enjoying outsmarting them with me. I look over at him as we round the steps to go backstage. I let go of his hand, and turned around to face him.
"Do you know how to look handsome and sexy while sitting on a stool?" I ask him and when he realizes I'm being serious he literally gives me a look like he can't believe I asked. I roll my eyes at him.
Ok so maybe it was a stupid question. He practically giggles at me, and I kind of want to slap him.
"At least give me a challenge, oh mighty huntress." He tells me with a laugh and I punch his muscular arm. He doesn't even wince.
"Fine, you might have to dance with me a little, too. Maybe...like sexy dancing?" I ask, not really having thought the rest of the plan through. I fight the urge to cringe when he stays silent, expecting me to say more.
"That's what we're going with? You singing, me looking sexy while sitting and then dancing with you?"
"Well when you say it like that…"
"Katniss, those people are going to demand their money back!"
"Well, ok what do you suggest? I mean what would be an appropriate trade off...for spending time with you?" I try to ask tactfully but he shakes his head at me like I'm an idiot.
"It could work, and you wouldn't have to do...as much as you would have if I left you there." I say with feigned confidence.
"Unless you'd be willing to do more it won't." He says with a tired sigh and lifts his head up in a supplicating gesture towards the ceiling. As if pleading for some kind of divine intervention. I snort. If we had any sort of credit or stock in miracles we wouldn't be in this situation in the first place.
"How much more?" I ask in a serious manner when his worried gaze lands back on me.
"What?" He asks in confusion.
"How much more?" I reiterate.
"No, Katniss, look, just forget it. I appreciate the gesture, but you don't have to do this. Let's just forget it. I'll go back out there and explain it was a misunderstanding." He says tiredly and tries to move away. In the dim light backstage I almost don't catch his grimace.
"No way Finnick!" I exclaim and I grab his forearm to stop him.
"Katniss-" He says in a sad but unmoved tone as I turn him to face me.
"Look, in case you haven't noticed, we're all vulnerable here. But people apparently want to see victors together more than they want private time with them. So maybe if we can figure out a way to stick together we can minimize the time we all have to spend with...these strangers." I tell him quickly and he stares back at me for a minute.
"And you know Snow's saving me for the end of my bidding, so they wouldn't force us to-" I start to say they wouldn't force us to sleep together but Finnick is looking at me with some indefinable look, something in between frustration and dogged hope.
"They could force you to do everything but that. Do you realize what that would mean?" He tells me quietly and I nod.
"I think that's part of the plan for me anyway. I think it's part of my punishment, for saying what I said last time. I heard people talking about me tonight. I realized that it would be better wouldn't it, if we worked together? I mean, Peeta and I fooled them for years, maybe we could-"
"It's not exactly the same Katniss-"
"No, it isn't but like I said maybe we could help out as much as we can. You could help Johanna too. Don't you think she'd rather it be you than-than-"
"Yes, I know she would. But...I'm not sure how effective we could be at fooling them. You...do you think something like this could actually work?" He asks doubtfully.
"I think it's worth a shot. I mean we convinced those creepy twins." I tell him with a shrug.
"Might not always be that easy." He says, his sea green eyes narrowed in concentration.
"Well, then we'll deal with that too, when the time comes. But until then, I'd rather go through this with someone I can trust. What about you?" I tell him and he looks back at me, into my eyes.
"Well, it worked for you and Peeta for years right?" He comments with a dry chuckle.
"Yeah." I reply, smoothing down my hair self consciously. Oh how I wish now I could turn back the clock. Peeta and I could have been together in truth for more than two years instead of the measly two months we had had.
"Alright, then...if you're sure." Finnick replies, breaking me out of my reverie.
"Yeah Fin, I am. Just...don't strip me naked on stage ok?" I tell him quietly and he blanches.
"Oh, Katniss, I wouldn't…" He starts to say, but I squeeze his arm reassuringly. I know now that he's not that kind of guy. I gave him a small smile to let him know I was kidding. He grins back at me after he catches it.
"Because I don't think these people could handle a practically naked Finnick and Mockingjay on the first night...we might start a riot…." I tell him, trying to lighten the mood as I walk over to the sound person in charge of my line up.
"I hope everyone of those Capitol pricks gets a heart attack and keels over." He mutters under his breath. I laugh darkly. The sound technician shoots me a nervous glance. I smile innocently at him and he goes back to rearranging the songlist as I specified.
I can hear the anticipation building outside, and I wipe my sweaty palms on the sides of my dress to try and calm myself.
"Hey, if all else fails, I can always dance a strip tease." Finnick says nonchalantly.
I look over at him, a laugh on the tip of my tongue, when I notice his green eyes are serious and his shoulders are set confidently.
"Oh, god, please don't Finnick. Whatever song of mine you dance naked to will be ruined forever. I probably won't be able to get up on stage without having some kind of panic attack or flashback." I tell him with a half pleading, half mocking voice.
He grins at me, a wide Cheshire cat smile.
"I know it's difficult when you're in close proximity with such a splendid specimen of male perfection, but try to control yourself, Katniss." He tells me as he cocks his head to the side and gives me that toothy grin I remember from my first victory tour.
And I know he's back in full force, Finnick Odair, sex symbol and shameless flirt. I roll my eyes at him but don't say much more because I need to try and channel the girl from the tours as well. Actually I need to do better than that. I need to find my inner seductress, if we're going to substitute musical entertainment for actual sex.
Oh, crap what have I gotten myself into? It's one of the last thoughts I have before I see the lights cueing down, and the music kicking up. I adjust my earpiece microphone and hear the telltale buzz that lets me know its on and connected to the sound system.
My heart is pounding uncontrollably in my chest, and I think I might faint as I try to force my feet to move in the direction of the stage.
But a firm strong hand reaches out and squeezes mine once, before letting go.
"You can do this. Just empty out your emotions, and play the part the way you would, with Peeta." Finnick whispers in my ear before stepping past the curtain and going to take a seat on the stool I'd requested be set in the middle of the stage.
I try to process his instructions, not knowing whether they are right or wrong. But at that moment I don't have time to analyze them. I just have to trust what he says, because the intro is almost over and my cue is coming up.
And because we're friends.
My red high heels move as if by their own design. I pass the curtain and make a show of sidling up to Finnick who strikes a relaxed but sexy looking pose as I approach him. I turn away, pretending to ignore him, and begin singing.
You should take it as a compliment
That I got drunk and made fun of the way you talk
(I start out slow by shrugging my shoulders in time to the beat, while pretending to sneak annoyed glances toward Finnick who hasn't moved from his place but remain seated and smiling on his stool)
You should think about the consequence
Of your magnetic field being a little too strong
(I start to sway lightly to the music as I circle around Finnick and he nods tries to sneak glances at me now, but I dance and dart away playfully as I sing)
And I got a boyfriend, he's nicer than us
He's in the club doing, I don't know what
You're so cool, it makes me hate you so much, I hate you so much
(I'm swaying my hips lightly now, as I dance just out of Finnick's sight, and I think he's getting the hang of what I'm doing, he plays along, looking for me out of the corner of his eye, shifting slightly, but never in time to catch me)
Whisky on ice, Sunset and Vine
You've ruined my life, by not being mine
You're so gorgeous
(I step close to him now, and trail a finger down his cheek in a soft caress, and to his credit Finnick doesn't react)
I can't say anything to your face
'Cause look at your face
(I grab his face in my hands and swiftly turn him toward the audience, as if to beg for their understanding while beholding his beauty. I can hear whistles and cheers going up and the energy in the room is kicking up to a buzz. I've never performed a song in front of a live audience, its new and kind of intoxicating, the way they respond)
And I'm so furious
At you for making me feel this way
But, what can I say?
You're gorgeous
(I continue to lament Finnick's good looks, as I sway close to him and trail my hand along his cheek, down his neck, and across his shoulders, really trying to sell this whole thing. At the last line of the chorus I spin away from him in aggravation and resume my distant serenade)
You should take it as a compliment
That I'm talking to everyone here but you, but you, but you
And you should think about the consequence
Of you touching my hand in the darkened room, dark room, dark room
(I dance closer and closer to him until I sing the line about him touching my hand, at this Finnick trails a light finger along the back of my hand, and up my arm in seductive move and I wrench my hand away, partly because it fits with the song, and partly because it's kind of confusing. Still, he's playing his part perfectly.)
If you've got a girlfriend, I'm jealous of her
But if you're single that's honestly worse
'Cause you're so gorgeous it actually hurts, Honey, it hurts
(I step closer to him again and place my hand on his bare shoulder in a skimming motion until I lighty trail up to brush my fingertips into his shining bronze hair. I grab a few locks and pull him closer to me, out faces almost close enough to rub noses)
Ocean blue eyes looking in mine
I feel like I might sink and drown and die
(At the mention of his eyes Finnick grins and flutters his eyelashes at me, I pretend disgust and splay my palm out over his face and turn him away from me, as if I can't stand to see his perfection for a moment more)
You're so gorgeous
I can't say anything to your face, to your face
'Cause look at your face, look at your face
(I turn up my dance moves, trying to channel some of the more seductive motions NotPeeta had been trying to teach me earlier. I roll my hoops lightly as I pass in front of Finnick and he pretends to look me up and down appraisingly)
And I'm so furious
At you for making me feel this way
But what can I say?
You're gorgeous
You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah
There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have
(At this I stalk over and step into the space between his muscular legs and grip his shoulders aggressively.)
You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad
You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah
(I inch closer to him, bury both my hands in his hair, and tug him lightly, but quickly closer to me, like I am thinking about kissing him.
There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have
Guess I'll just stumble on home to my cats
(I run my nose along his cheek, ignoring the light breezy scent on his skin and the flush that has crept into my cheeks from being this close. I let my lips hover over his for a second before I I pushed him back, and he wobbled on stool. I move away from him but look over my shoulder before I deliver the next line. )
Alone, unless you wanna come along, oh
(He reads my look, smiles sexily, and gets up from the chair and joins me where I stand front and center, dancing in earnest to the delight of the crowd.)
You're so gorgeous
I can't say anything to your face, to your face
'Cause look at your face, look at your face
(He dances behind me, in easy seductive movements that mimic my moves and then presses himself against me lightly, my backside brushing his front. His hands land on my hips to steady me, and I'm amazed I don't falter, and continue to dance. I remember he said we'd have to do more than just dance, so I tried to calm down and trust him. So far this dancing isn't very bad, and as a bonus, when we do this, the cheers literally skyrocket and turn up to almost intolerable levels)
And I'm so furious, I'm so furious
At you for making me feel this way, feel this way
But what can I say? I say
You're gorgeous
You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah
There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have
You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad
You're gorgeous
You make me so happy, it turns back to sad, yeah
There's nothing I hate more than what I can't have
You are so gorgeous it makes me so mad
You're gorgeous
We spend the rest of the song dancing and playing off each other. Not surprisingly, Finnick is an incredible dancer and he keeps up with me through every step even though all of this was impromptu. When the last note of the song rings out, he turns me around to face him and stares at me apologetically for a moment before he brings my face to his.
He's going to kiss me. I think to myself and I will my lips to respond feasibly, to not give the charade away. But he surprises me.
Instead of kissing my lips, he kisses the corner of my mouth. He's moving his hands through my hair, and then up and down my shoulders, and over my waist. His movements probably look possessive but his hands are actually feather light on my skin. They just give the illusion of passion. And I feel so grateful for his consideration. I smile a bit, and wrap my arms around his neck, completing the illusion.
We pull away to the sound of thunderous applause.
I see a pair of lavender eyes staring me down from the front of the stage and I recognize the Brightfall brother, Citron. I suddenly remember my promise to dedicate the performance to them.
"Thank you everyone, that was Gorgeous, a new song of mine that I was lucky enough to get to perform with the Finnick Odair tonight. Talk about perfect inspiration material. That performance could have never been possible without the patronage of the Brightfall Twins! They are two of the most generous and creative patrons in the entire Capitol! And I'd like to dedicate that song to them! Can everyone give them a hand?" I manage to get the words out like they're not sticking in my throat.
Citron Brightfall and his gold eyed sister stand up and wave to everyone in the room. And Finnick and I clap for them, along with everyone else. We plaster smiles on our faces and hope, against all odds that we've appeased them all.
When I look over at Brightfall, he smiles back at me, that same lazy smile. But then he gives me a little wave as his sister grips his arm and leads them deeper into the crowd of people now clamouring over them.
And I think, maybe, just maybe, we've found a way to sort of survive this.
***Original song "Gorgeous", by Taylor Swift*** I do not own the song or lyrics!