Thank you HogwartsDreamer113, aridneia, MsMKT86 and Joe for reviewing!
I hate to sound rude or anything, but to the person who reviewed "please… less relations to sex": if you're not comfortable with anything, then don't bother reading. Finnick Odair is labeled as the sex symbol of Panem for a reason.
I've actually received quite a few reviews asking about the alliances of the 75th Hunger Games, where Gloss and Cashmere attack Finnick's group. I have that planned, don't worry! Here's a question for you to ask yourself: Gloss and Cashmere are careers; are they going to fight their way home, or are they going to dedicate their life to protect just a stranger?
Also, this chapter is pretty fast-paced, sorry! I had a bit of writer's block with this. The first half of the chapter will be normal-paced, and the second half with basically be a description of the span of the next few months leading up to the 68th Hunger Games.
XXVIII. Home Sweet Home
"This had better not be what I think it is."
Groaning, I launch a pillow at the person standing in the doorway. "Go away." As I roll over, I come in contact with another person and releasing a cry of shock, I jump up.
"Both of you: get out," Cashmere says. "I want sleep."
"This is my room," I argue.
"And who was the one who told me to sleep here?"
"You what?" Gloss says.
"We didn't do anything!"
He eyes me, disbelievingly even though I am in fact, stating the truth. "Sure. Whatever." He turns to Cashmere and heaves a sigh as he reaches out to help her up. "Come on, Cashy. We're going home."
"I still have eight days." She rolls away from him, only to fall off the bed and onto the carpet. She lands with a painfully loud thud. Cashmere cries out in agony and moans, lying facedown on the ground. "You go home."
"You can make up for the eight days another time."
"No."
"Yes. Odair called me at three in the goddamned morning saying that you were beaten up like a rag doll an-"
"Actually," I interrupt, unhelpfully, "I just said that she had bruises all over her body."
Gloss shoots me a cold glare before continuing on. "The next train back home leaves tonight at six, and we're leaving tonight. That's final."
The two Delgado's spend the next four or so minutes glowering at each other, simply waiting for the other to stop. Clearing my throat rather unnecessarily, I say, "Cash, you should go home."
They act as if they hadn't heard me and when she finally relents, she storms out of the room with a limp and her head held high. Her twin only rolls his eyes in irritation and follows her out.
For the rest of the day, I utilize my time by treating women out on dates – consequently, I have lunch about four times. All of the women I visit today purely want to get to know me better – in a more innocent manner than the previous day. If I hadn't known better, I would consider this day a day off. And I enjoy the day, constantly making small talk with women, both old and young. The younger women are mostly left alone during the day by their husbands and merely seek for enjoyable company, while the older women are lonelier than most others, and that's something I can understand.
As I make my way up the elevator to Level One of the Training Centre, it feels as if my stomach's about to burst at its seams. The moment the elevator doors ding open, a crash erupts from behind the doors to the main living quarters of the storey. When I slam the door open, the twins are in the midst of a full-blown argument. Gloss waves around an empty bottle of beer, like a mad man, and at the moment, his actions highly resemble those of Haymitch Abernathy's. Maybe not as sloppy, but still, the resemblance is quite evident.
He's drunk. Probably not completely wasted, but judging my the look in his eyes, Gloss is at least, a little tipsy.
"Just because you need to go home for Vanessa, doesn't mean I do!" Cashmere yells. "I have my own business to take care of!"
"You do need to go home, Cashmere. Just look at you. You're becoming a fucking whore – an object," he argues.
"That's what you are too!" the girl screeches. "A Capital whore!" She lunges for his beer bottle, rears her arm back and releases it, aiming for Gloss. She misses by a minimal margin. The bottle shatters against the wall only inches away from him and several shards embed themselves into his arms. Within seconds, it's almost as if he feels no pain, and Gloss effortlessly grabs Cashmere by the neck, lifting her off the ground a few inches.
They glare at each other, much like they had earlier in the morning. "You don't get to choose what you do in life," he replies, in a low voice. "You never have, and you never will."
"You're no better than him," she spits. "How do you expect to take care of your kid when you treat your own sister like this? You can't even treat your own wife correctly, sometimes" His grip visibly loosens and Cashmere shrugs her brother off. "Are we going home, or what?"
I take this as my cue to leave, and I sneak out, leaving the door ajar behind me. All my mind seems to be able to come up with is, What the hell? After witnessing their argument, I'm starting to have a sneaking suspicion that Gloss drinks, rather regularly, and beats up the girls closest to him.
What?
Ten days later, I arrive home. I sense the sea before I even smell, hear or see the oceans before me. It makes me come to realise just how nostalgic and homesick I've been over the course of a fortnight. As the train pulls up to a halt, a silly grin is plastered on my face before I shove the doors open. I inhale the scent of familiar sea salt, fish, and in general, District Four.
The feeling of deja vu washes over me as the unmistakable tinkle of my sister's giggles erupt from behind me, and she jumps on me, tackling me into a hug. "Finnick!"
"Hey, little sis. You miss me?"
"Pfft, no."
"Yes, she did," Oliver interrupts. "She's been babbling non-stop about how she wishes you were here, ever since you left."
"No, I didn't," she insists, clutching onto me tighter.
"Oh, so is that why you're holding onto me like I'm your lifeline?" I tease her, feeling the corner of my mouth tug up into a smirk.
"No," she denies once again, letting go of me.
Laughing, I reply, "You don't need to deny it. I missed you too, Rhea."
The next few months pass by in a rather orderly fashion. In the mornings, I fish with my father's old mates. I go to school, and I hang out with my tight group of mates: Oliver Ross, Eamon Keeley, Austin Gasket and Nash North. At home, I'm stuck with Rhea and Annie, who are both good company. Sometimes, they bring their friends over, including that Ayden boy who I suspect now has a crush on Rhea. Everyday, I check up on Mags, spending at least an hour of quality time with her - I feel like it's my duty to take care of her. I have constant check-ups with Doctor Audrye, who had given birth to a girl in March - and thank God for that, because I still have no idea how Dean had been able to deal with her horrid mood wings and random cravings. She and Dean decided to call her Cordelia, meaning daughter of the sea. She's a rather healthy baby, with blonde ringlets and the bluest eyes I've ever seen, and she's by far the most adorable baby in District Four.
Every month, I spend exactly one week in the Capital and I've figured out how to manage my way through each affair, each one-night stand and each night. I don't need to force myself to enjoy the company of women who treat me like a human, and I refuse to let them pay for my dinner and any other of my costs. As for the other women who actually offer tremendously high amounts of money for my body, I've managed to figure out how to be there, but not be there at the same time. My presence is there, but I zone out as I fulfil the many dreams and fantasies the women have. I keep my eyes closed, imagining the rocking of waves back in District Four, the soft sand underneath my feet, the wind whipping by and I hear each wave crashing down, like it's music to my ears.
But in public, I never know when I'm being watched or listened to, so I keep the charade up. I flirt and wink, and kiss women's cheeks, and shower them with compliments, and when they do the same back in public, it's quite flattering.
Many ladies often feel bad for using me, and so they give me things in return. Sometimes, it's an object of importance. Most times, they offer jewellery, gold and watches. At first, I denied their bargains, but after much insistence, I know from experience that it's no good to argue with a woman. They win most of the times, anyway. Several women don't care, but that's only a small portion of the ladies though. Sometimes, I find myself to be a punching bag and get beaten up by them, but nowhere near as bad as Cashmere had the first day I'd completed my duties. I man up, and suck it up. I've yet to encounter a date with a man, but I'm hopelessly praying that it won't happen.
June is quickly coming to a close, and everyday, I can't help but fear for what Marlene might do on Reaping Day. I've seen her quite a lot in school, in the training centre and around the District but we've never had any sort of direct communication. We give each other stiff nods and that's it. If she does choose to volunteer, I've decided that I'll ignore what I'd said to her, and I'll demand to be her mentor, no matter what. I couldn't save one Summers, I need to save the other. I fear for her bloodlust. She's already such a sadistic person - maybe not like Althea Yule, Brutus from Two, or the Wesley and Andromeda from last year, but she's one of those girls who watch an act of beheading and say, "Oh my god, that's so cool!" and not to mention, she has quite the knack of threatening people.
I suppose she's gotten quite the advantage in the arena though. She's tall - five foot eleven -, she's lean and muscular, and she's had plenty of training. But that brings me once again, to her undeniable bloodlust and determination to push through and to claim victory. She'll go absolutely crazy in the arena, and not just the crazy that the morphlings from Six have somehow reached. Marlene Summers has a reason to win and she'll use that one reason as her lifeline: her own younger and deceased brother, Maxwell Summers.
"Hey, man," Oliver waves a hand in front of my face. "You there?"
"Yeah, fine," I reply. "Sorry."
"It's fine."
He doesn't push me for any answers. It's almost like Oliver is the one who understands me the most, out of everyone. He hasn't been reaped, and he hasn't experienced fighting to his imminent death, but there's just something about my best friend that understands almost everything and everyone, and I can't say my thanks enough. While he's serious at times, he always puts the fun in things, and seems to be able to crack a joke at anything.
He turned eighteen last month, making him a good five months older than me. I'm still stuck at seventeen. He and Arden both only have one more reaping left to attend, and I've forced them both sworn on each other's lives to not volunteer.
"I'm going to ask her to marry me."
My neck cracks a few times, as I turn my head to look at him, in record time. My walking slows down and he grins stupidly, shoving his hands into his pockets. Then, I grin and slap him on the back, enthusiastically. "Dude, that's great! I knew you guys were serious but not that serious. You've only been dating for a year and a half, haven't you?"
He shrugs. "My dad proposed to mum after dating for eight months. She's tried to raise the topic of marriage up discreetly into our conversations but you know me. Nothing gets past me."
"What if one of you get reaped?"
Oliver rolls his eyes. "Stop being so pessimistic, Odair. There are volunteers every year. You need to find yourself a lady."
"No, I don't," I argue. "I'm happy with being single, and hanging out with the women in the Capital."
"No, you're not," he snorts. "You fancy Cresta."
Just as I open my mouth to deny it, he interrupts me, "Don't even bother denying it, Finnick. Even my mum can tell you fancy her."
"Yeah, whatever."
"Ask her out."
"No."
"Yes."
"No."
"Yes."
"No, Oliver."
"Yes, Finnick."
"If you want me to ask her out, then why don't you ask her out instead?"
"Sure, why no-"
"Why are we even going to my place?"
"Because I need a girl's opinion on this." Oliver grins that annoying grin again and flicks his hair out of his eyes. "Rhea, Annie, Shelley, whoever's home, really." His eyes lights up as we see Annie make her way from Mags' house to ours, and I groan inaudibly as he throws an arm around the girl. "Hey, Annie," he greets."
"Hey, Oliver." She offers a generous smile at him, then frowns in confusion as he steers her out of the Victor's Village and towards the market of District Four.
"You see this lad here?" he asks, hooking a thumb back at me and she nods. "Well, you see, Annie, he kinda has this thing he wants to ta-"
Slapping the back of his head, I manage to shut him up. "Shut up, Oliver," I bark at him, and he laughs, throwing his head back.
I tag along behind the two of them, as he has a one-sided conversation with Annie. When we step into the District's best jeweller's shop, he asks, "Annie, do you like diamonds, pearls or emeralds?"
"Uhh…"
"No, wait. What do girls prefer?"
"Depends on the girl?"
"So what do you think Arden will like?"
"Shouldn't you know?"
"Well, I'm not a girl. That's why you're here."
"But I'm not Arden!"
"But you're a girl!"
I push their voices to the back of my mind, as I scan the large diversity of rings in front of us. Some are ordinary rings, with a single diamond and gold band, while others are more intricate. One in particular catches my eye. It's not my favourite in this collection, but it's undoubtedly Arden's style: intricate and sophisticated. It's a ring encrusted with a diamond in the middle, and small gems of emerald surrounding it. "How much is this?" I ask the jeweller.
"Six and a half grand."
Oliver can afford that, since his family has been one of the most successful families in the district, though he's quite modest about it.
That rich bastard.
"How about this?" I ask Oliver, point to the ring.
He takes one glance at it and replies, "It's perfect."
"No!" Annie cries out. "That can't be an engagement ring! Buy that as your actual wedding ring for her, but for the engagement ring, get something simple and elegant, like…" She purses her lips and taps her fingers against the glass case, examining the mass of rings. After a few longs moments, she finally points to the ring in the corner. "This one."
The two of us lean over her shoulder. It's simple, just like she said, with a diamond stone right in the middle, with a silver band. "I'll buy them both," Oliver says.
"Just like that?"
"Yeah," he replies. "I have no idea what looks good or not, so I'm trusting your judgement."
The jeweller eyes Oliver, with doubt. "Are you sure you can pay for this, sir?"
"Yes, of course. I'm Oliver Ross," he says, arrogantly, handing the man a huge wad of cash. I raise an eyebrow as the man takes the cash with shaky hands. When had he gotten so much money? "Keep the change."
"Th-thanks, Mr Ross."
Within minutes, we're out of the shop and by now, Oliver's bouncing up and down as we walks in excitement. Annie constantly shoots him amused glances as he quite literally beams at everyone. Suddenly, he stops in the middle of a crowded area and grins, impishly. Oliver kneels down on one knee in front of Annie and says, "Thank you, Annie Cresta, for helping me. I owe my life to you now. May God bless you." He reaches for the velvet box and opens it up, revealing the engagement ring.
Her eyes widen and her cheeks turn bright red, as people crowd around us, grinning and cooing at the sight before them. I smack myself in the forehead at my friend's antics. A few women squeal, "Say yes!" but all Annie does is stare at Oliver, resembling much like a deer caught in headlights, and she just looks so adorable. And despite how much I want to roll my eyes, I end up laughing. Women shoot me glares for ruining the supposed moment and I drag Oliver up by the collar of his shirt.
"Stop messing with her and propose to your own girl, Ross."
A/N: THEY'RE MAKING A HUNGER GAMES AMUSEMENT PARK but it's probably in America so sucks to be me, haha.
I'm not entirely sure what the seasons are like in the Hunger Games trilogy, so I'm assuming that since Panem is situated in North America, summer is June-August and winter is December-February. I think I've gotten that wrong in past chapters (oops), just ignore that.