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LOVERS DOUBLE ACT

Peeta and I collapse into his bed that night, neither of us willing to converse about the people we encountered at the party. Although, I can't stop the wheels from spinning in my head-realizing the sort of threat that Snow is entirely serious about. Beneath the covers, I grow cold and begin shaking uncontrollably. I have to marry Peeta, I have to. Maybe the sooner, the better. The only problem is, I don't believe for one moment it will quiet the districts. I haven't even spoken to anyone about the footage of the uprising in Eight I witnessed during a late night stroll on the train. Surely, there must be other uprisings, perhaps ones that the Capitol has kept hidden from the public. How can Peeta and I be expected to suppress peoples' pain with some obnoxiously staged love affair that only the Capitol eats up? If we fail to keep the districts in line, only I should be punished and not Peeta. At least, he should be spared from being forced into prostitution because of his innocence involving the berries.

Somehow, I drift off despite the intense worry and shaking. I hover between the world of sleep and reality, in and out of horribly realistic dreams of having my clothes stripped off and getting pinned against a wall by a dark figure, and then waking half-conscious with Peeta wrapping a warm, comforting arm about me.

I don't return back to sleep around five in the morning, my eyes falling on my hair piece with the little birds on the bedside table. I laid out my dress on the chair by the dresser, and my slippers somehow ended up thrown together with Peeta's shoes on the floor. I bury my face in the pillow, trying to smother away the images of my most recent nightmares. I hear a muffled bang from out in the hallway and shoot up in bed. After a pause, another bang follows. I look over at Peeta, who doesn't seem to be stirred by the noises. He's a deeper sleeper than I am.

I get up and creep out of the bedroom and over to the door. Two voices are arguing outside, one shouts some remark, and then there are footsteps that hurry away. I crack the door open to see who is disturbing everyone this early in the morning. Finnick Odair leans against the wall a few doors down, watching some woman in a magenta robe fleeing towards the elevator. Finnick's bronze hair is messy and sticking up oddly in the front, and he's only wearing a silk dress shirt from the night before along with boxer shorts.

I quickly try and shut the door, but his head swings around and I'm caught. I stand there, only in a slip dress myself, my cheeks reddening.

"I knew someone would wake up to all of that. Sorry, Katniss," he apologizes, hardly suave this morning. His eyes are dim and seem a bit... frightened. I'm taken aback by his demeanor.

"Uh-it's-it's fine... I should-I should go back to bed," I reply, to which Finnick's gaze slowly grows brighter. "Okay, hopefully Peeta didn't wake up, either," he adds, his mouth tugging upwards. I try not to react and shut the door. My face seems to grow even hotter. He knows Peeta and I are sharing a room. Of course, he'd pick up on that. I trudge down the hall to return to the bedroom when Peeta bangs into me, nearly knocking me backwards. He lunges forward and grabs my forearm before I hit the wall.

"Katniss! I'm sorry, I just got worried because I woke up and you were gone," he explains hurriedly.

"It's fine, I'm fine. I just... went to see what was so loud outside in the hall," I reveal.

"What is it?"

"Just Finnick... and some woman," I add, which leaves Peeta unfazed.

"I can't believe he ended up in the same hotel and on the same floor as us," I mutter.

"I bet it was on purpose... you know, to give us a glimpse of that side of being a Victor," Peeta speculates in dark tones. My insides twist at his words. The idea that Finnick, only a few rooms down, is working as a sex slave startles me a bit. It really shouldn't, considering the ways of Snow and the Capitol, but the thought that Finnick is surely being threatened into that kind of work...

"You don't have to feel uncomfortable about it, Katniss," Peeta mentions with an annoyingly knowing look. I shoot him a glare that I hope causes him to reconsider his choice of words.

"What do you mean by that?"

Peeta tries to act apologetic, but somehow still attempts to stand by his words. "Okay, I'm sorry, but... I can just tell that it bothers you, Katniss. You don't have to feel strange about Finnick. I mean, I actually think you should feel really bad for him. His situation, it's awful."

His seemingly arrogant words (although a bit true) cause me to snap. "You don't think I know that? Obviously, it's awful because otherwise I wouldn't be forcing myself to get married! How do you know what I feel, Peeta?"

Hurt spreads across his face. I practically suggested that being with him is not much better than Finnick's situation. He injured my feelings in alluding to the fact that I'm too naive to relate to Finnick's suffering, and so I, in turn, hurt his. Angry at Peeta and at myself, I bury my face in my hands and let out a groan.

"I don't mean it like that," I mumble into my hands, tears threatening to fall into my palms. I don't like feeling so emotional lately, but sometimes the stress of everything releases itself in odd ways.

"You're right. I don't know anything about how you feel," Peeta quietly speaks. Somehow, that cuts me deeper than his previous words. I let out a sob, turning away from Peeta and into the wall. At first, he simply stands there, allowing me to let some of it out. Then, he gradually guides me into his arms and we slide down onto the ground together. I think this is the first time I've openly cried in front of him. Not in the dark and half-awake while only just coming out of a nightmare.

His presence feels more real in the daylight, with my body huddled close to his. His messy blond locks are pressed against my forehead, some strands clinging to my wet lashes. I stare down at our interlocked hands, becoming soaked by my tears. I should feel awkward about this, we should feel awkward about this when we clearly established that we will only be friends despite our public announcements. But then why at night is it all different? I've grown so accustomed to his arms around me in sleep that it feels like second nature.

"I'm sorry, Katniss. Forget what I said," Peeta whispers, rubbing my back. I haven't told him, but he knows how worried I am about all of this. How could he not feel the same? Just because his feelings are more certain and sincere doesn't make our situation less dire.

"No, I'm-I'm sorry," I sputter, trying to catch some breaths. I wipe my eyes on the hem of my dress. I somehow muster the strength to look up into his eyes. I find them are glazed and full of sympathy. I feel his breath reach my lips, his face only inches apart from mine. I've allowed him to hold me here for far too long, risking the cross of a forbidden line. I suppress the longing for his kiss instantly, trying to appear better as I hastily stand up.

Fortunately, Peeta doesn't bring up Finnick again or mentions my crying episode. We order breakfast up to his room and eat quietly until I mutter something about needing to go get dressed. It's just my luck that I run untimely into a second person out in the hallway.

"Oh, there you are. I was just going to look for you and Peeta to discuss the details for tomorrow," Haymitch tells me, looking from me to Peeta's door.

"We've already discussed it. I'm going to my room now. I'll speak to you and Effie about it later," I reply flippantly before hurrying into my room. I don't need a confrontation from my mentor about why I was with Peeta last night. I don't even want to know what Haymitch might suspect.

I'm grateful to pull on some comfortable clothes. I rummage through the dresser and find a warm gray sweater and some baggy pants that I'm pretty sure are sleepwear, but I could care less. I feel like I should maybe go find Peeta after I deserted him over breakfast, but I'm a bit abashed after crying into his chest like some pathetic child. I venture out onto the balcony, taking in the perfect view of the city with the mountains in the background.

I try to figure out how I should spend my free time today. I don't have the desire to think about anything to do with the party tomorrow until at least this evening. If Haymitch mentions anything about it before dinner I'll simply ignore him. I know he's trying to help us, but there's only so much planning that we can do.

I sit around my hotel room until lunch, dozing on the couch and browsing through channels on the television to find various news reports of Peeta and I and our arrival to the Capitol, the usual report on the hostile environment of what once was District Thirteen, and some reality shows featuring bored and extremely wealthy housewives from the west end of the Capitol. I guess they feature other kinds of reality entertainment than just child murder for citizens here.

I emerge from my solidarity around lunch time, as I was sought out by Cinna who convinced me that I should put something decent on and meet everyone for lunch in the lobby.

"You won't feel any better watching things that only justify your hatred for here," Cinna wisely speaks, taking the remote from the coffee table and turning off the projector screen.

"Fine, I'll go downstairs, but only for you," I tell him begrudgingly. I throw on a decent outfit and comb out my hair before wandering into a lavish restaurant somehow still inside the hotel. I discover Haymitch, Effie, and Peeta having appetizers at a table in the corner. Apparently, my prep team is busy steaming my dress and preparing the finishing touches for tomorrow. I sit beside Cinna, who is conveniently furthest away from Peeta and Haymitch.

"I thought Finnick might be able to join us, too. He should be down here soon," Haymitch mentions to the table as I pick out an array of meat and cheese and fruit to eat.

Is Haymitch good friends with this guy? How come I always end up eating a meal with Finnick?

I dread seeing Finnick after our uncomfortable interaction in the hallway, but sure enough, he struts towards us from the lobby.

"Thanks for letting me join you, I don't mean to intrude on the Victors' success. I'll only be here until Sunday," Finnick explains, greeting Haymitch with a familiar handshake and squeezing in between him and Peeta.

"Well, I thought you should get to know Katniss and Peeta better. After all, you are similar ages and will be seeing each other at least once a year for the future games," Haymitch expresses, irritating me. It's as if he's a parent trying to encourage his kids to play with his best friend's kid. What's it to him that we become friends with random Victors?

"So, what's District Four like?" Peeta begins politely, knowing all too well that I won't start the conversation. Finnick grins.

"I love it. I miss it every time I'm here. It's on the other side of the country, far from Twelve. Our weather is very pleasant, and the main part of town is by the water."

"So, you learned how to be a fisherman from a young age?" Peeta asks. District Four is known for catching all of the seafood for the Capitol. I know that they also build various ships and have some small dams for energy.

"Oh, yes. Everyone in my district is required to learn sailing, operate other kinds of naval equipment, and fishing, of course. I don't do much of that anymore, though," Finnick adds, a hint of regret in his voice.

"How's Annie?" Haymitch asks with a knowing smirk.

"She's fine. At home right now," Finnick replies briefly, eyes on his food. Haymitch doesn't press it because clearly this person is someone he seems guarded about. Finnick then directs the conversation to Peeta and I.

"Are you two excited about your wedding? It's all anyone is talking about here. I wouldn't be surprised if people faked invitations just to get in to the reception."

Great, now it's time to put on the performance.

"Yes."

"Definitely."

Peeta and I both respond. My eyes meet his, and we both smile at one another. I'm surprised when Finnick chuckles.

"You two are better than I thought."

I stare at him strangely, but before he elaborates the main course of our lunch arrives, creamy clam chowder and strips of bacon on stuffed rolls. I try to sort out Finnick's oddity as I eat. I sense that he perhaps isn't convinced of the star-crossed lovers act, and is trying call us out on it because he finds it amusing.

How dare he tease us about something like this? Shouldn't he understand the seriousness of this? I don't like being made fun of, and more importantly, I don't like someone who questions our act because it could reflect badly on us. So, after lunch I wander over to Peeta and give him such a steamy kiss that it will surely make everyone in the restaurant shift uncomfortably in their seats. Hopefully, that will shut Finnick up for now.