Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Finnick Odair had many secrets. He wasn't just a one trick pony or incapable of feeling emotions other than seduction. And he wanted to show that to Greyson before she could judge him otherwise. It was a tough decision that brought him in front of her house, pressing her doorbell.
The days were getting shorter and chillier even in the warm climate they lived in, but any ten degrees less and Finnick was bound to walk around in his sweater and jacket. Now all he could do was wait anxiously as he counted the seconds off in his head, reaching twenty-nine just as the cranberry door was yanked open. Finnick bit his tongue from preventing his jaw from dropping.
Greyson Hunter was beautiful; gorgeous. She wasn't wearing the mask that covered her prominent features anymore, which gave him a full view of her complexion. He notices the small things now, like the pale freckles that dusted over her nose and the rosy pink in her cheeks that minimally glowed whenever she was caught off guard. She wore striped pajama shorts and a blue t-shirt that hung loosely off her shoulders. It wasn't her priceless dress Johanna bought for her, and to him, it made Greyson seem even more human in his eyes.
She glanced behind him before acknowledging his presence. "Finnick, hey, what brings you here?" She subconsciously brought her bottom lip into her mouth.
He rubbed the back of his neck as he thought of something to say. In all honesty, he wasn't sure why he was here. It was a nonsensical idea. "I just wanted to see you again," he sputtered out, "well, bye." He waved her off and started walking down the street.
Greyson, tempted to roll her eyes at him, shouted, "would you like to come inside?"
He spun around, furrowing his eyebrows in deep concentration. "What?" He shouted back, jogging back to her doorway by crossing her uprooted lawn that scarily resembled a small jungle.
She bit back a laugh and instead smiled warmly. "I said, would you like to come inside?" She repeated.
He now stood in front of her once more, breathing in her sweet smell of laundry detergent and vanilla. "As long as I'm not bothering you."
Greyson rolled her stormy blue eyes this time and propped the door open wider. "Does it look like I'm doing anything important? I've washed the windows twice, scrubbed the floors, and organized my socks in alphabetical order. Which, if you wanted to know, is nearly impossible..." She sheepishly smiled at him.
"Okay, okay." Finnick stepped inside her home with a curious expression, being the first person beside Johanna and Greyson, to have ever entered her house. It was a good size and didn't hold anything spectacular like you might have thought. Her kitchen was regular and so was the rest of her house, nothing was out of the ordinary.
He followed her into the kitchen, immediately taking notice of the bubbling pot of stew that steamed on the stove. It's savory scent wafted into the air and curled underneath his nose like a hug, unintentionally making him famished. Greyson popped open the lid and stirred the ingredients, too focused or uninterested to realize that Finnick had gotten humorously close to her and the pot.
She gave him a wicked smile over her shoulder. "You hungry?" She asked.
He shrugged with a tiny grin, "maybe a little."
A smirk replaced her delicate smile. "That's too bad, I don't have anything for you to eat."
Finnick scoffed and took this as his chance to stand closer to her, their arms brushing up against one another. Greyson held in a gasp. "Don't tell me you're going to eat that whole thing yourself?" He asked teasingly.
She lifted the spoon out of the pot and brought it to her lips. "Okay, I won't." Her witty attitude made him smile. She was just like he had imagined she would be, and he loved every moment of it.
"Fine," he leaned against the polished countertop. "I'll say it since you want me to so badly," Greyson smiled widely, "I, Finnick Odair, want to have a bowl of your lovely stew." She raised an eyebrow at him and it was his turn to roll his eyes. "Please, please let me have some stew."
She fluttered her thick eyelashes at him and reached behind him to grab a bowl, her lips perilously close to his mouth. "I guess so, I mean you did ask so nicely. It's the least I could do." Greyson replaced her used stirring spoon for a clean, new one before dipping it into the pot.
Finnick grinned as she handed him the bowl of stew, not wasting any time to shovel a hot spoonful into his mouth. Silently eating until there was only a few spoonfuls left in the blue ceramic bowl. "Thanks, Grey." He said after swallowing the last of the stew. His tongue darted out and removed any broth from his lips, leaving them tinted red.
Greyson finished her own bowl of stew after putting the rest in her refrigerator. She leaned on the counter across from Finnick, her socked feet close to his. She watched him as he stared at her, an interested flame flickering in both of their eyes. "Finnick?" She started to say in a gentle voice, steady enough to catch his gazing expression.
"Yes?"
"What are you actually doing here?" She asked in all seriousness.
He briefly paused, standing up to his full height of bronze hair and chiseled cheekbones. Greyson would be lying to herself if she said he wasn't handsome in the slightest. "Ever since Johanna told me about you, I've always had this fascination that you were this perfect woman. She spoke so highly of you, like you could conquer anything, and now that I've met you, I feel as if I need to know more than just what you're showing me. I want to discover who you truly are, Grey. I want to understand every part of you, no matter how broken it is."
Greyson stood silently for awhile, not really knowing how to react to his sudden confession. It was brave of him to do so. Finnick Odair doesn't just pour out his thoughts to just anyone, this was a privilege within itself. And she didn't know what to do. She barely knew him for crying out loud, so how would she be able to respond without upsetting him. Finnick looked to be more vulnerable than what other people saw, he wasn't just arrogant or coquettish, he was humble and benevolent. Just because he'd killed people didn't mean he was a horrible person.
Which was why Greyson tore her eyes from his and down to the floor, a murmur of a snap resonating inside her heart. Some of her dark hair fell down in front of her face, but she didn't touch it. Instead, she spoke with a voice that could make any person shiver, "you don't know me, Finnick. Sure I won my games and I've stayed sane all these years, but I'm just as messed up as anybody else. I've got my flaws; some bigger than others, and I'm sure you don't want to stick around for those. No one does, so you shouldn't waste your time with me."
He was closer to her than before, gripping her shoulders with his warm hands radiating onto her chilled skin. He looked intently at her, trying to climb the barricades she's built so strongly. "I've got all the time in the world," he mumbled to Greyson with the fraction of desire to crash his lips to hers and press her up against the wall. But he didn't. He waited for her reaction, the slightest movement determining if she wanted him to stick around for a little more.
Greyson strangely wrapped her arms around his upper torso, letting her hands meet on the other side of his body as she hugged him. Finnick inwardly celebrated his victory and the fact that he was one step closer to discovering who Greyson Hunter was.
