The Presidential Palace is a nightmare.
The crowds are ten times the usual size. The music is slow and mind-numbing to appease the older patrons. And there are too many eyes to do anything without getting caught.
Not that I'd be doing anything, anyway.
It's a free night. No clients. No sleepovers. Nothing. And the same is for Cashmere, who's sitting beside me in a booth and leaning back as far as she can with crossed arms. She's bored out of her mind, but Persephone would have our heads if we leave before midnight strikes.
I drain the rest of my glass, letting the whisky burn down my throat before getting up. My eyes land on the bar in an instant, ready to order five more, but they roam to the far end of the bar, and my steps still.
I can see her perfectly, despite the hundreds of people in the crowd separating us. Her hair is up, and her dress is... nice. Very nice. And she's sitting on the barstool furthest away from the dance floor, nursing a glass of something clear. Water, hopefully.
My feet refuse to move me any closer to the bar, forcing me to dumbly stare at her.
A man from the Capitol walks up to her, leaning against the counter beside her. His words are disgusting and overtly sexual. I don't need to hear them. I can tell by the way Sapphire scrunches up her face, and it takes half of my strength to not push my way through the party to go tell him to fuck off.
Not that she needs me to.
Augustus is already acting out on it, anyway. Although, I doubt he's telling off the guy. Instead, he's probably diffusing the growing tension between Sapphire and the manwhore as she gives him an earful.
She's probably calling him sick. A pervert. A drunk.
She's probably reminding him that she's already taken.
By the love of her life.
Who, as my sisters love to remind me every day, is not me.
My eyes keep trailing her as if they have a mind of their own. The man grumbles and stomps away. Augustus kisses the top of her head and heads back to his "date". And Sapphire slumps her chin against the palm of her hand, and I know she is counting down the minutes until she gets to leave.
Part of me wants to walk up and join her.
But the other part wants to keep my life.
"You're staring again." Cashmere's sing-song voice rings into my ear like a screeching siren.
I didn't even notice her stand up, but now, she's right beside me, resting her chin on my shoulder and following my gaze.
"Staring at what?" I ask, but my eyes are still trained on Sapphire, whose eyes start roaming around the party. They meet mine for a moment so short I almost think I imagine it. "I'm not staring at anything."
"You're pathetic," Cashmere groans, tugging on my elbow. "What happened to that whole ignoring thing to get over people? Or does it only work if you are the one ignoring them?"
My eyes narrow and finally meet hers.
"Fuck off."
"Never," Cashmere smirks. "You're stuck with me Lip Gloss. End. Of. The. Line."
"That line couldn't get any shorter," I mutter.
And despite the hundreds of screaming drunks surrounding us, Cashmere hears my words perfectly. She gasps and swats my chest.
"That was uncalled for!" She says, and in an instant, all of that fake outrage turns to poison. "You know what! I think you owe me a drink for that! Come on, let's go to the bar."
YOU ARE READING
THE MISSING LINK ✧ GLOSS HUNGER GAMES
FanfictionI don't know who I am. I don't know where I am, or where I'm from. All I know is that there are people who are trying to kill me, and God keeps sending me love letters. ⋆✧⋆ Sapphire Jones died in the arena of the 66th Hunger Games. Her life should h...
