Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
The very next day, Greyson was beside Finnick, walking through a forest laden in shrubs and dead leaves. She wore sneakers and tight elastic pants that hugged every curve of her thighs and waist, with a fleece top covering her upper half so the bitter air wouldn't nip at her skin. They were outside because if they were to be reaped for the Quell, then they needed to train. The announcement was two weeks away and Greyson could already feel her skin crawling with the nightmares of what the game makers would pull this year.
Would it be snakes dressed up as vines that wrapped around your throat and strangled you? Mutated beasts that followed your every step and scent until you were left with a gruesome battle? Hot molten lava that shot blasts at you, scarring your flesh until you were a burnt withering mess? The possibilities were endless, and how monstrous her thoughts got were only the beginning steps to the chest tightening fear that would swallow her up once more. Finnick was barely showing any compassion. He was a fighter and a believer that if you fought for who you loved, nothing could hurt you.
But Greyson saw how desperate he was with her when they began punching techniques. He would grab her waist and control her towards the correct stance like a puppet. She didn't mind, as his warm hands momentarily slipped underneath her jacket and pressed against her fiery skin with an ambiguous meaning. Her arms would get an electric shock as if she'd been stunned and her heartbeat would increase at rapid paces even when she wasn't moving.
She didn't understand why. Finnick was here to help her and train for the arena, not do unspeakable things like push her up against a tree and hold her close, sweeping gentle kisses over her lips. Because that was wrong. What would Snow think if his two pawns were getting it on right under his nose? Greyson laughed, ignoring Finnick's incredulous look, and tried to imagine Snow's face if he saw them making out.
Finnick stared at her curiously. He always seemed to be curious as to what could possibly be going on inside that magnificent head of hers. Her impassive features gave little away to the people who wanted to know her, and who wanted to know her secrets.
Finnick was too close to Greyson, his right arm tucked underneath her collarbones and a strong grip spread along her neck. He was showing her how to get out of a headlock but her body was pressed flush against his and it took every ounce of strength to not turn her around and kiss her. So instead of doing that, he asked her a question to keep his mind at bay. "What're you thinking about?" His mouth was right above her ear, cheek pressed into her soft hair.
A small blush rose to Greyson's cheeks and she prayed that he couldn't see it. "Nothing important. Now, what about weapon training? How're we going to be able to do that?" She diverted the subject immediately, wanting to get out of the grip that she really wanted to stay in forever.
Finnick released her and grabbed his thermal of hot tea and sugar that sat on the ground near a small collection of rocks. He smirked at Greyson. "That is a good question. Good thing I know the answer."
