That Fine Line

Chapter 15 - The First is a Mistake

I stared at the giant television screen in front of the white couch I was sitting on mindlessly. The replaying of the interviews were going on, but even the outrage from the crowd when Peeta had announced Katniss' pregnancy couldn't take me out of the stupor I was in.

"They'd never cancel the Games because of that." Finnick plopped himself down next to me, too close for comfort. "Even if their own audience is against it."

Suddenly, I became overwhelmed with the sense of deja vú. Once, about four years ago on my sixteenth birthday party, something similar had happened. A handsome stranger, under the guise of a hired stripper at the time, had invited himself to sit next to me and start a conversation.

"I have to give Peeta credit though, for coming up with that. You think they told him to say it or?"

It started with simple small talk at first. Then, it became playful, flirtatious banter. I'd just turned sixteen, and I wanted to be risky. Deluding myself into thinking I could trust this man by giving myself to him, I complied with everything he said. I didn't stop to think why the conversation was getting into familial matters. It didn't even occur to me when he'd asked where my father's whereabouts would be tomorrow during one of his work meetings. All I was thinking about was him and me.

"Annie." I completely ignored his question. "Who is she?"

Finnick was speechless, seemingly taken aback by how straightforward I was with my inquisitiveness.

"She's my girlfriend," he replied simply, "From back in Four. She survived the Games five years ago."

I kept my eyes on the screen. "What's she like?" 

"She's kind, soft-spoken... shy..."

And so the lion fell in love with the lamb. 

I was not a lamb.

Well go on, tell me all about how much you like her. 

I needed to hear this. I needed him to tell me that he didn't like me. To know that the way I felt towards him wasn't real. They were fabricated from misunderstandings that I'd deluded myself with. Misinterpreting his consideration on the journey here to be kindness instead of pity. Misinterpreting our chariot ride to be a sign of interest instead of a performance for sponsors. Misinterpreting his help in training me to be comradeship instead of likening the chances of our survival in the arena. Misinterpreting his recruitment of alliance to be an act of trust instead of--

"I thought you were a lot like her, actually."

I froze. Something small, something that felt like hope, blossomed in my heart.

"But now that I got to know you, I realize that you're a lot different. You're surprisingly stronger than you look. I remember when I'd first met you during your first Games, you didn't say a word to me. Actually, you never really spoke to anyone. That was my first impression of you, as a really shy and timid girl. I thought for sure you weren't gonna make it. You reminded me so much of her, it made me want to protect you."

When I was selected for my first Games, it had only been two years since I first moved to the Districts. That was when my life had finally finished falling apart. My mother lost all interest in me, my older brother rarely came home from work, and I'd gotten used to life in Four. I was basically depressed. I barely felt anything when they'd called my name in the Reaping. Being in the Capitol gave me some minuscule spark of enjoyment. Not even the Games were able to grant me a will to live. But I did anyway. For him.

"Are you disappointed then?" I dared to ask.

"What?"

I turned to look at him. "Are you disappointed that I turned out to be different? From Annie?"

He looked down and smiled, shaking his head.

"But isn't that what you like?" I pressed him. "Someone who's weak but kind-hearted, who's worth protecting?"

He flicked his gaze back up to me. "You are worth protecting, Y/N. And I like that you're strong. You're different from her, in a good way."

I searched his eyes as my mind swirled with the things I could say and do right now. I was falling into that ocean again. Deep. The current and its waves were splashing and washing over me, sending me into a whirlpool of confusion, and I couldn't get myself out.

"Can you kiss me, Finnick?" I whispered. Our faces had somehow gotten a lot closer than they were before I'd started to drown.

There was no going back. There was no amount of convincing I could do for myself that could convince me my feelings for him weren't real. My hatred for him now seemed so far away, so distant, so long ago, from what was happening now. It was almost like a separate thing. As if his betrayal had only happened in a different life, a parallel universe.

But at the same time, it was that night four years ago all over again. Him and I on a white couch. We were so close, our souls were entwined, and only our bodies remained separate. Nothing else mattered at the moment. Only us.