A Million Pieces - Hunger Games (Catching Fire & Mockingjay)

Chapter 8

Caspian is waiting for me outside the Remake room, bouncing his foot anxiously, his arms crossed over his chest. He turns around at the sound of my heels, grinning excitedly. "Great, you're ready. You've got to see Finnick, he's -"

The words die on his lips. I feel a warmth rise in my cheeks, and I raise an eyebrow. I lift my arms in a questioning stance, giving a slow twirl. The dress follows my movement, and it looks like I'm controlling the waves. I take a step forward, and the dress pulls up my legs.

"So? What do you think?"

His gaze travels back up to my face, and he stays silent for another second. Then, abruptly, he shrugs. "You look all right, I guess. Couldn't be worse than Finn, right?"

This time, it's my mouth that drops open. I fold my arms over my chest, trying desperately to play off the disappointment I feel. "All right? I - well - this dress, it's great. You need to tell Diana, it's really amazing. She did a great job -"

Caspian's lips curl into a grin. In a few strides, he's standing right in front of me. I stop talking in an effort to retain a piece of my dignity.

I'm not short, especially not in heels, but I still have to look up at Caspian. Finnick has a couple of inches on me and he is all muscle, but Cas is taller, in a lean kind of way. When we were younger, he was as gangly as me, but we've both since become stronger and willowy instead of lanky.

I feel his finger gently curl around mine. A breath catches in my throat. Caspian and I are not strangers to physical affection. We've known each other for so long, lived in the same house for so many years, that we've become perhaps too comfortable with each other. I have wished, sometimes, that when he takes my hand or throws his legs over mine, it isn't just ease. But this feels foreign, more intimate.

"You look stunning," he says softly, and the heat returns to my cheeks.

"Well, the dress-"

"It's more than the dress," he tells me, and I suddenly want to ask if the way he's looking at me is more than friendship.

"Thank you," I say quietly.

Gently, he lifts his hand, catching a strand of hair between two fingers and pulling it away from my face.

"No touching!"

Diana's shout makes us bounce apart, and I nervously brush my dress down. The stylist paces towards us, her lips twitching knowingly. She casts a disapproving look to Caspian. "You should know better than to mess with her look. She needs to be perfect."

"She is," he says boldly, and my head snaps to him.

"Exactly, so you shouldn't be messing her up," Diana retorts with a quick glare. But when she turns her back to Caspian to fix my hair, she winks at me.

I'm not watching her, though, because her words seem to have startled Caspian. He reels back, frowning. But he recovers quickly, rolling his eyes and stuffing his hands into his pockets.

"Rivera, you should be getting dressed. Can't have you looking like..." Diana turns around to assess him. She grimaces and pulls at his linen shirt. "This. Helen is taking care of you."

"I thought I'd escaped Helen when I won my Games," he groans. "I was going to walk Sapph to the chariot-"

"Sapphire can find her own way," Diana tells him as she dabs at my makeup. "You're not her brother, she doesn't need you to babysit."

Caspian and I both splutter at her words.

"He's not my-"

"I'm not her brother, really-"