The Perfect Truth: A Finnick Odair Novel

Chapter 2

A/N: we finally get out hot n sexy man on staaaaaage, roll up, roll up, introducing our man finNICKK

Warnings: trauma, swearing, killing, idrk, tell me if there's anything else

Word count: 1685

 I stand by the pair of black horses that will pull our chariots into the open ceremonies. I scowl, which wards off conversations, but not curious stares. There's only one other victor I really know, and I don't even want to look at him. If I do, it'll just make it harder for me to kill him in the end. But I think he's made it his goal to speak to me. No doubt about that, actually. I sense his presence, his gaze on me, but I don't turn and meet it as he approaches.

'Hello, stranger,' he purrs in my ear.

'Fuck off, Finnick.'

'No nicknames, I see,' he chuckles. 'Oh don't worry, no need to explain yourself. You want to distance yourself from me so it's easier for you to kill me when the time comes.'

He knows me. Down to my very core. He's seen every scar on my body, and I've seen every scar on his. I've comforted him in the night when he jolts awake, mind still broken from being forced to kill at the tender young age of fourteen. He was one of the youngest victors. That was ten years ago. And just a year back, he and I... We distracted each other, him me from my worry for Kat and Peeta, me him from his worry about the tributes he was mentoring. I know I can kill him. Last year we were playing with each other. We both knew it wasn't love. We both knew it wasn't real. What is, nowadays?

I turn around and see that his stylist has decided the most sponsors he'll get are from young, single women who will drool over him, because he's dressed in this flamboyant golden net that is sneakily knotted over the groin so he isn't fully naked. Lifting my eyes to his face, I see the way his bronze hair glints a little in the light, his half grin, perfectly symmetrical, and his sea green eyes that drown me, suck me in, hold me there, every time I look. Shaking my head, I back away until my spine hits the chariot behind me.

'Go away.'

'Want a sugarcube?' He asks, holding out a handful. He pops one in his mouth and crunches slowly, eyes fixed on me in this hypnotic way that only Finnick Odair can manage without looking absolutely crazed. Or maybe he does look crazed, I just don't see it. He speaks through a mouthful of sugarcube. 'They're for the horses, but who cares?' He shrugs. 'They have years to eat sugar whereas you and I... well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.'

He grins, and his eyes glimmer suggestively. It almost breaks me, that familiar mischievous glint from those days when I tried to block out Kat on the screen of the luxurious, curved screened TV. Those days when he distracted me from that TV screen. His tongue darts out and wets his lips, and I know he knows he's driving me crazy as he pins me down with his gaze, a gaze I'll never be able to brush off until he's dead.

'Please, Finn,' I choke. 'Just go.' At this point, I'm desperately hoping that Peeta will appear and save me.

'Why, Ryn?' The use of my nickname in response to his own makes me turn away from him as I stumble for words.

'I - I - '

He leans in closer, hands either side of my head, trapping me. Normally, it would make me smirk, make me bury my hands in his hair, make me kiss him, but I nimbly duck under his arm and put a good bit of distance between us before he can trap me again. I cross my arms, trying to shake off the ghostly memory of my lips on his.

'Don't you have some woman at home who you shower with gifts and wouldn't be happy with you and me?'

His facade drops for a moment. I see right through him, see the hurt I've caused. Low blow, and we both know it. He was fucking turned into a prostitute pretty much as soon as he got out of the Arena ten years ago, and somehow I have the stupidity to joke about it because I desperately need to pull myself away from those enchanting emerald eyes.