Annie stepped out of her car, pushing her hair back behind her shoulders and fervently pulled at the dress, which stuck to her like a second skin. It was a deep maroon and was very sequin-y. She put the clutch, which held her money, cards, and keys in, under her arm and walked towards the Plaza. Her high heels, which were black and wrapped up her legs, clicked on the sidewalk. Her hair was up somewhat and nicely curled. Why she got so dressed up for this just to crush Finnick's little heart, she didn't know.

As she approached the Plaza, she saw Finnick leaning against a wall with his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes were closed. She stopped and watched him—was he truly asleep? One could argue either direction. He gave no sign that he was conscious, but how did you fall asleep like that? She looked at his thin, bronze hair, which quivered in the slight wind. And she hadn't realized the rose he had in his hand before. Perhaps he had hidden it, or she was too concentrated on those sea green eyes, she couldn't tear her gaze to look down. But she saw it and her heart started to thud in her chest. You can get the same message across by just standing him up, she thought to herself nervously. He wouldn't bother you again… She winced. But I got all dressed up for nothing, then.

She sighed and stepped towards him before she gently tapped his shoulder. He was roused quickly and his eyes fluttered open in slight confusion before he looked over at her. She imagined his breath getting caught in his throat by the way she looked and his mouth was hanging open. She was just waiting for a fly to buzz in there. Annie waited for him to say something, but he just stood there, gaping like an idiot. She snorted and put a hand on her hip.

"Are we going or not?" she asked a little impatiently. He snapped out of the daze and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, we're wasting daylight."

"Finnick, the sun is down. You mean moonlight?"

"Yeah, right…" He looked very unlike himself right now. He was walking awkwardly and he kept scratching the back of his neck. She sighed and walked up to him, hooking her arm in his, hoping to make him more like his dicky self. "You look very beautiful tonight," he finally said.

She glanced at him, an eyebrow quirked upwards. The way he said it was like he was shocked. Perhaps he didn't realize that she could clean up so well? She only looked professional when it came to work. She gestured to the rose quietly and his eyebrows rose, his eyes widening.

"Oh... Oh!" He turned to her, making her stop and handed her the rose. "For you, Miss Cresta."

"Good for you. Earned some brownie points! Didn't realize you were capable of being romantic in the slightest bit." She raised the rose to her nose and gently took in the scent. He didn't respond and he was about to walk forward when she stopped him.

"Listen, Finnick. Relax. We're just getting dinner." Was it bad she was a little concerned for him? He looked like he was going to pass out. From what, she didn't know, but she was deeply concerned now.

"Yeah, I, uh… Sorry."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" This perhaps wasn't the best thing to say, but it was the only question that came to mind. His eyes snapped to hers finally and they were filled with an emotion that caused her heart to stop.

"Peachy," he replied, somewhat back to his normal self. The emotion in his eyes flickered away before he stepped into the Plaza, holding out a hand for her. "Let's go."

"Peachy?" she snorted as she walked in after him.

"What's with the snorting? You sound like a pig." He looked around before bypassing the line.

"Finnick!" she hissed. "Didn't your mother tell you not to cut in line?"

"Sweetheart, my mother taught me a lot of things. But I just chose not to listen."

Her face took on an exasperated expression. "Charming."

"Indeed."

The people in line were eyeing Finnick angrily as he walked past all of them. Annie was forced to juggle after him, trying not to step on toes, or hurt people. These weren't your average middle-class people. These were high-class, the kind who had mullah to spend. The kind like Finnick.

They reached the podium that was giving numbers for tables and the male standing there looked boredly up at Finnick. "Welcome to the Plaza, how may I help you?"

"Name's Odair, Finnick Odair," he said just like James Bond. Oh, how did he not realize how stupid he looked? "Table for two. I believe it's reserved." Annie stopped in her tracks. Reserved? So he was planning on her showing up. Of course he does. In his mind, every girl finds him irresistible and has to go on a date with him. She rolled her eyes and finally caught up. He slipped a hand around her waist and she had the incredible urge to leave it there, but she pushed it away. He didn't look hurt by the action, but he looked as if he were anticipating it. She scowled.

"Ah, yes. This way, Sir."

"Hey! We've been waiting in line for an hour!" a man said angrily. Finnick turned around.

"Then you should have had a V8."

Annie facepalmed herself. "That doesn't even make sense, Finnick!" she exclaimed. He snickered and pretty much skipped after the waiter. What had gotten into him? It was like he drank fifteen Monsters and the sugar rush was becoming too much for him.

She shook her head and followed before they were led to the table. She practically begged the host to stay there and not leave her alone with this lunatic, but he left anyways. She sighed and sat down, setting her clutch on the table and pushing it to the wall.

"So," he said. "Order anything, I can handle it."

"Anything?" she challenged. "May I have everything on the menu?"

He stared at her, no expression on his face. "If you do that, I'll force you to pay for dinner."

"You lost brownie points!"

"Hey, come on!" he said angrily. "I'm not paying for everything on the menu!"

"You're a millionaire! I'm just a cut-rate lawyer who gets half the salary she should really get."

"That's hardly fair, though."

"One, you're a millionaire. Two, men always pay dinner. Always."

"Really?" His eyebrows rose. "I had no clue. What else must men do?"

"Stick with one woman."

"Easy enough," he said.

She eyed him before she continued, "They must always save sex for the tenth date or much later like marriage."

He made this noise in the back of his throat. "Damn! I'll have to cancel the rose petals in my house."

"Oh please. You weren't really…" She watched the serious expression on his face. His eyes reflected the candle light set so conveniently on the table. She lost her voice and she couldn't hear her own thoughts over the sound of her blood pulsating through her body. Now she felt a little fidgety.

Then he gave her an award winning smile. "Of course I wasn't. I'm not an idiot."

"Or are you?" she responded with a half-smile, regaining her composure after he stopped looking at her like that.

"Or am I?" he leaned forward a bit. Then the waiter came up and started the normal rounds. What specials they have and what he personally thought was the best. They both stared at each other for a little longer before tearing their gazes and looking up at the waiter. She shifted in her seat a little uncomfortably before she asked for a glass of water. Finnick asked for a Coke Zero.

"Those are so bad for you," she said. "So riddled with sodium and brown sodas cause serious problems."

"Oh, hell. Who did I ask for a date? A deliciously beautiful young woman or a nutritionist?" He smirked and raised a single eyebrow.

"I'll take nutritionist." She didn't know how comfortable she was with 'deliciously beautiful'.

"Dammit!" He paused. "Would you like some wine?"

"No thank you. I have to drive home."

"Oh, you're one of those people."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Those people who don't like to drink and drive."

"Oh, you're one of those people," she repeated. "Those who like to drive and drink."

"I never said that!" he said indignantly. "I'll only have a glass of wine."

"A glass of wine is the equivalent to one bottle of beer." He mimicked what she just said. "Very mature," she sighed. She had to fight the fact that she did enjoy his somewhat childish behavior. But at the same time, he was very funny, very charming, and undoubtedly very good looking. She wanted to take a drill to her head with the thoughts that ran through it right now. She bit her lip and glanced at the waiter as he brought them their drinks. She squeezed some of the lemon into the water and drank it. She set it next to her and put her hands in her lap.

"I have a game for you."

"Goodie, I love games," she replied.

He smiled a little. "It's a questionnaire. You will have to answer all of these truthfully. After you answer, then I'll answer truthfully as well."

"So I can't choose the questions."

"Oh, hell no." He snickered and sat back. The waiter had left because the Plaza was extremely busy. She had already decided what she wanted. "Alright, first question. I'm going to start off easy. What's your favorite color?"

"That's standard," she laughed. He just shrugged. "Red, as you can tell from my dress." His eyes flickered down for a second, the emotion in his eyes returning for a millisecond before he continued.

"Mine is green."

"Oh, goody, we're opposites."

"Still pushing me away, are we?"

"Depends... is that one of the questions from the questionnaire game?"

"Trixy." He smirked, which caused her stomach to clench. "Next question. Favorite genre of music."

She thought for a few moments. "Whatever genre Adele is."

"You like Adele?" he seemed surprised.

"She's my favorite singer. All of her songs are just so beautiful."

"Interesting. Because I love Adele, too!"

"You're a horrible liar!" Annie giggled.

"No, I'm serious." He gave her that look again—with those eyes that reflected the candle light. "Now—" He was interrupted when the waiter came up.

"What would you like to order?" he asked in a very sophisticated English accent. He had a pencil mustache and balding hair. She smiled at him politely.

"I'll take the Smoked Gouda Penne, please."

"Charleston Sandwhich, please. No onions, extra ranch." The man nodded.

"Thank you. It will be out momentarily."

As he left, Finnick turned back to Annie. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted," he began, "Are you a virgin?"

She blinked and turned to him with a baffled face. "Excuse me?

"Are you a virgin?" he calmly repeated.

"That's hardly an appropriate question," she laughed nervously. He continued to stare at her. She wrinkled her nose and quickly blew out the candle. The reflection of it in those large eyes was going to give her a heart attack.

"Fine, I'll go first. I'm a virgin."

Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. "You're lying to me!"

"No, I'm not. I only pretend like I have sex and then pay the girls obscene amounts of money to flaunt it around that I did. My manager believes that if I do that, I'll stay around much longer publically and become much richer… But the only people who know this are me, the girls who I have 'sex' with, and now you." Her eyes narrowed.

"I still find it hard to believe."

He shrugged, taking a sip of his Coke. "It's a crazy concept. But I really am waiting for the perfect girl to show up. Saving everything for her…" He trailed off, staring into the depths of his Coke, or merely staring at his reflection.

She stayed quiet for a few moments. "Well, I'm not," she confessed. His head snapped up to look at her in actual shock. "I had a fiancée. He was… so nice…" Her voice got quiet. "He worked on cars for a living, but the car lift malfunctioned one day and it, uh… fell on his head."

Finnick winced. "Ouch. I'm really sorry about that."

She smiled at him. "Don't be. It was eight years ago. We met in high school and dated through college. I haven't really dated since." She took in a breath and sat back, looking at him. "He was really sweet, though."

They both went silent before Annie said, "Are you going to ask the next question?"

"Oh, yeah, right." He nodded. "What's your favorite animal?"

"Cats."

"What kind?"

"Any kind. I have a black and white cat at home. His name is Kudo. He's my little sweetheart." She smiled to herself, drawing small designs on the table before she saw Finnick not even looking at her. She followed his gaze to a woman sitting alone at a table. She looked back to him to see he had stiffened.

"Excuse me," he said before he got up and walked over to her.

Annie sat back, taking a fork and twirling it between her fingers before the food came. Finnick still hadn't returned and she turned to see he wasn't even there anymore. She frowned before she waited before a good five minutes. The waiter came up, not even caring that she hadn't touched her food and took it away without a word. He returned moments later with the box of her pasta and she sighed before standing up. The waiter hurried back with the check.

Her mouth opened and she frowned excruciatingly deeply. She gave him her credit card for the hundred-dollar meal. She seriously hoped that this pasta would be good reheated at least. He came back with her card, she filled out the tip, and signed it before walking away. She couldn't express the disappointment she felt. He just left her there and left her with the check. She sighed and clicked her way back to her car before driving back to her house.

Yep, what she had hoped for did happen. The night was a disaster.

But why didn't feel as sweet as she thought it would?