Happy Saturday, everyone!

So this update came a lot sooner that I thought it would have, but I was feeling inspired so I decided to sit down and start editing... And this sort of just happened :) I hope you guys like chapter 3, and PLEASE review and follow and tell me what you think. It keeps me writing.

And thanks to everyone who has reviewed. Your comments mean the world.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3: Like I Do

The next day, when every single District team has arrived at the Training Center, people are scurrying and shouting as preparations are made for the City Circle parade. The ominous-looking wooden gates swing open over and over again, revealing stressed mentors and crazy Capitol attendants bustling in accompanied by freakish stylists who are screaming in worry about the absolute downpour outside. I simply stand by my tributes' chariot, stroking District 4's horse Oceania and popping sugar cubes. About two years ago, I'd thrown one into my mouth to sweeten the bitter aftertaste of a particularly sloppy kiss I received from an aging woman who was apparently one of my biggest fans; despite the fact that she could barely remember my name she was so drunk. After that, every year it's become a habit, almost a ritual, to steal the so-called horse treats. It's a little charm to boost my sexual appeal for the Capitol's women and a way to keep a little sanity for myself too. The crunch takes my mind off the immediate world and the Games and how disgusting all of it is, while the sweetness reminds me of Mags's cherry brittle and the incense my mother used to burn when our house began to smell too much like fish. Back then, it even reminded me a little bit of Annie. So undeniably sweet, almost like vanilla.

"What the hell?" I hear a mentor from One, Brutus, yell in my general direction as the gates swing wide once again and rain soaks onto the hard, concrete floor. "Is this supposed to be stopping anytime soon? We've got a show to put on here!" He's the kind of mentor that actually cares if stupid events the Capitol puts on get ruined or sacked; the kind of mentor who cheers when his tributes kill someone, and gets a little bit cockier each time he brings home another victor.

He's a dickhead.

I roll my eyes at his words. We're in an enclosed space attached to the Training Center, completely protected from the wind and rain, so I don't know if he wants me to make conversation with him or not. Honestly, I don't give a damn about the rain. It's just delaying the inevitable.

Finally, after what feels like forever, the rain against the roof subsides, and it's suddenly bright, light pouring in the cracks under the gates to the city. Tributes are filing in as stylists frantically adjust makeup and scream praise: it's chaotic, not my kind of scene at all. So with this in mind, I wander away and out through a side door, into the bright sunlight that's quickly fading to a dusky, rose-colored evening.

The crowd's roar is deafening, and the stands are packed with colorful, screaming people, even though the tributes haven't made an appearance yet. Yvonne and Odiva are probably back in the Training Center by now with Annie and York, about to send them on their way. I caught a glimpse of York earlier as I was leaving the chariots, and he's dressed in a turquoise suit with silver, coral designs weaving all over it. He looks good, I guess, but the way his sneer of confidence accents his face makes him ten times less appealing, at least according to me.

I'm in the crowds now, near the mentor's roped-off area where I'll sit during the parade, but instead of talking to other victors, who can actually be likeable sometimes, I am chatting up a ditzy Capitol woman who's eagerly hugging the red dividing rope. She strokes my forearm, and I flash her that crooked smile I learned so many years ago. It works every time.

"So, Finnick," she trills, her fluttery voice seeping into my pores. Already I feel used and disgusting. "I'm free tonight if you want to come home with me…? My husband's going to be gone all night with a friend." Her eyes portray no hint of guilt at the fact of betraying her husband, and I want so badly to say no, but I know that's not allowed. So I wink, and then stand up to leave.

"I'll be there," I croon, gazing into her eyes with my smoldering ones. "Meet me at the Grand Hotel." She looks like she's about to faint, so I turn away, waving with a cocky grin before quickly walking back towards the Training Center doors. I don't want to cause a scene, but I can't spend another minute next to that woman I'm meeting tonight whose name I don't even know.

"It's Finnick Odair!" screams a surgically-enhanced lady whose standing near the front of the crowd, decked out in a purple wig and silver jumpsuit. "Look!"

I curse under my breath and quicken my stride, but I know Snow is watching me, wanting me to elicit the right reactions. So I wave and smile and wink seductively until I'm behind the safety of the door. The women have started to chant my name, drowning out the other chatters in the crowd. How sick to think that they know me and love me for only my body, just one small part of the person that is me. I'd rather be known for anything else.

My smile has dropped and now I'm looking for Mags. She's standing next to our chariot, giving York and Annie some helpful pointers. They've already been hoisted up into the seat, prepared to ride the chariot into the City Circle. Oceania stands on guard, her white body tall and strong, the same as it was five years ago when she pulled me through these same gates. It sad's to think that something so innocent can so willingly bring someone into something like this. Something like the Games.

But then, I notice her. And all my thoughts about how horrible all of this is simply disappear with a single glance.

We discussed Annie's strategy over dinner last night, but it's clear she doesn't need any help becoming who she needs to be. She portrays that sweet, innocent girl perfectly, because she is that girl. Now, with her soft curls falling loosely all the way down her back and her nude, shimmery lips parted, the only word to describe her is sweet. She looks perfect, radiant, yet those jade eyes still bear the same kindness and compassion that looked up into mine as a kid. Compared to her face, her cropped bustier composed of two, extremely revealing seashells and her brilliant, aqua mermaid tail seem dull, even though they are well-done by Capitol standards. Annie's green eyes, highlighted and flaunted with subtle, silvery makeup, are the only thing I can focus on.

"Finnick!" Mags motions for me to come over. I walk slowly, hoping Annie didn't catch me gawking at her.

"Hey there," I say, smiling with a sexy smirk. Mags laughs, knowing that I'm only teasing. She swats my arm, but her eyes look lovingly into mine. She's like a grandmother, warm and soft and comforting.

"You both look great," I say genuinely, allowing myself another chance to stare into Annie's eyes, which seem to be smoldering effortlessly. "I'm assuming Mags already gave you the run of the mill, but just remember: smile, wave, be happy, all that. Keep them wanting more."

They both nod, and I can see the amusement lurking in Annie's eyes. She tries to compose it well; I can tell because her lips are curling in concentration, the same way they used to as kids whenever she was focused on something. Abruptly, I'm confused. She looks like she's about to laugh, but I'm not sure why. Is it because she hates me so much it's comical? Or is it because she can see right through this act I put on for the cameras and the tributes and the mentors? I don't know.

Just like I don't know why these next words slip out of my mouth.

"What, Cresta? You think I'm funny?" My voice is light, but then I bite my lip in hesitation. What the hell, Finnick? Shut up! She doesn't want anything to do with you.

Her eyes widen, but I can see the small smile forming on her lips despite her best efforts to control it. "Shut up, Odair."

I can hear that sarcastic sweetness in her tone, the one I've missed so much, and suddenly we're kids, on the beach playing in the water, just us and no one else. I don't know what to make of this. She doesn't seem angry or hurt or determined to shut me out. She seems like… Annie. Loving and caring to a fault, with that funny, quiet sarcasm.

"Hey, now, I'm your mentor, remember? Aren't I supposed to be the one telling you to shut up?" My eyebrows rise. Once again, I yell at myself, What the hell are you doing?

"No," Annie says, her eyes twinkling. "As far as I can remember, I've always been the one telling you to shut up."

I laugh loudly, a genuine laugh, and Annie timidly joins in. A lightness in the pit of my stomach rises up and consumes me, despite my worry that things between us are awkward and unsettled. York looks dumbfounded, swiveling his head back and forth between Annie and me, while Mags simply throws a toothy smile my way.

"Touché," I purr, laughing and stepping away from the chariot. "Remember, chins up, heads high, smiles. Lots of them. Make your cheeks hurt the next day. I'll be watching." I toss a wink their way to make them uncomfortable, but Annie just rolls her eyes subtly, somehow still keeping that air of sweet kindness. York looks a little disgusted. I'm glad.

"Well, well, if it isn't the lovely Finnick Odair." The voice is right behind me, sarcastic and jeering.

"Shut up, Johanna," I laugh, giving Annie an encouraging wink right as the doors to the City open. I'm still not sure what's just happened between us, or how I got the courage to talk to her as if nothing ever happened with our friendship, but I welcome it. As much as I'd like to admit otherwise, I've missed her like hell these past five years. And that alone scares me shitless.

Johanna interrupts and halts me from exploring my thoughts, which for some absurd reason can't focus on anything but Annie. "How are you?" she sneers teasingly. "Still sexing up those Capitol idiots?"

I ignore her jibe, because even though she doesn't say it, she understands me. And she knows I don't visit different rooms every night by choice. She's only been a victor for two years, but she's not an idiot. She's just trying to keep things light, and I appreciate that. "Are you still at home, polishing your axe, tree girl?" I toss back jokingly.

She cackles, a distinct laugh that makes my eyes narrow. "Right."

I smirk, realizing I'm actually glad to have her here tonight. Her family's gone too, and over these past two years, we've gained a camaraderie of some sort. "How are your tributes this year?" I ask.

"They aren't worth shit," Johanna states dryly. Always telling the truth. "I almost feel bad for them. And yours? I heard a few freaks outside talking about your girl."

I like the words 'my girl' much more than I should, but I keep calm as I answer. "Oh, yeah, Annie?" I'm not sure why, but my voice sounds a little shaky with obvious tension. I shouldn't be doing this. It's Annie, my tribute, not Annie, my old best friend. I need everyone to see that… The mentors, the tributes, the Capitol…

"I guess," Johanna mutters nonchalantly, interrupting my panicked thoughts. She catches the uncomfortable tone in my voice though and immediately looks up, staring at me for an immeasurable amount of time before her eyes start to widen and grow dark with an indefinable mockery. "What is that, Odair? Are you trying to play coy? Because it sure as hell isn't working."

"What?" I ask her, my cheeks tingling with a subtle red.

"What the hell? Is Finnick Odair, royal sex god of Panem, blushing? What's gotten into you?"

"Johanna, you're delusional," I insist smoothly. I can only hope she doesn't hear my bluff.

"Like hell, fish boy. It's the girl, isn't it?" My eyes narrow and betray the uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of my stomach. Johanna's cackling loudly now.

"You idiot! Who would have ever thought? Finnick Odair falls for sexy sweetheart Annie, who just so happens to be his tribute! Really, Finnick?"

I give her a warning glare. "Johanna, shut up. You're too loud for your own good and mine." I'm using the Capitol as an excuse, but I don't like her words either. They make me feel confused and out of control. I don't feel that way about anyone. The Capitol marred my ability to love, and I can't ever let anyone in again. Especially not Annie…

"So defensive. Whatever, Odair," she laughs. "I have to leave anyway, so calm down. Blight's waiting. I won't question you about your precious Annie. Just keep me updated, okay? I gotta know how this one turns out." With that, she turns on her heel and stomps away, still cackling throatily as if this situation is just the funniest thing ever. I grimace. How the hell was she able to pick up on this awkward discomfort knotting in the pit of my stomach? How can she pretend to know how I feel when I don't know myself? Annie and I aren't even friends really, and here Johanna is, harassing me like the brutally honest and crazily intuitive survivor she is. No surprise there.

Maybe I should ask her later just exactly what she thinks is going on.

XXXXXXX

The parade is long and drags, but Annie and York are stunning. Johanna throws me suggestive looks as Annie's beautiful mermaid scales come into view, twinkling against the fading light in the city, but I ignore her good naturedly. People scream with delight when they see my young pair of tributes, especially when Annie smiles back at them, catching their flowers and waving with a sweet smile that is unmistakably hers. You can tell by the way they chant her name that they already love the beautiful, kind girl from District 4.

If only they knew her like I once had.

Or maybe, just maybe, like I still do.