09/05/2016
A/N: Thank you very much to elfielovesbooks for your review. I'm very flattered by your kind words and appreciate you taking the time to review this little fic :)
Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games.
Chapter two: Hear~
He always liked the sound of her voice.
Or so he tells her. She doesn't know how much truth there is to his words. She doesn't trust him. She knows better.
It's just too perfect, meeting in a secluded area for the third time in a row by 'chance', and at President Snow's banquet, no less. It just doesn't make sense to her why the Great Finnick Odair, a veteran of the Games and beloved by all in the Capitol, would want to take time out of his 'busy schedule' to try and fail at starting a conversation with her, especially when there were plenty of other members of the female species in the room who were clearly begging for his attention.
She shifts in her evening dress, intent on ignoring the bronze-haired man trying to strike up a conversation with her.
She bites the inside of her cheek, irritation rising.
Finnick.
What kind of a name is that, anyway?
She briefly glances over at the man in question, giving him a once-over before returning her gaze to the crowd.
She just doesn't understand it. How could anyone - male or female - want to willingly spend time with the man beside her? He's annoying. He's conceited. He dresses outrageously and walks with arrogance, and he acts as though everyone should feel privileged just to be in his presence, as though he is something truly special and amazing to behold.
It disgusts her.
He disgusts her.
She can never imagine wanting to genuinely spend time alone with him, let alone pay for such a thing, as countless other women have done.
Finnick's voice once again penetrates her ears, and she nearly chokes on her drink when she hears him ask for a dance.
She tells him that her mere mortal eyes are too weak to take him all in once she recovers, which is a sarcastic attempt to get him away from her. He replies by saying she looks plenty strong enough to handle it to him, and that he would be surprised if she couldn't withstand his company for a few measly hours.
She walks away at this, face flushed with anger and embarrassment at the fact that he's so much better with words than she is, and accepts a dance with every man that asks for the rest of the night – something she never does – all in an effort to get away from him.
No, she does not like Finnick Odair.
Doesn't like the way he dresses, the way he smiles, the way he acts, the way he laughs...the way he goes about his life in general. None of it.
But as much as she wants to deny it, the sound of his voice never grates on her ears.