CHAPTER 7
STINK EYE

A month had gone by in a blink of an eye. Time always seemed to blur back at Seven. Bex was savoring every moment she had left there, every breath she hesitated to take, and every laugh she wanted to remember.

She spent more time with Johanna, pleased to find out that sometimes the pixie-haired girl could be quite enjoyable. She even visited Nico a few times: once to make sure he was still living, and the second to hand him a meat pie when she noticed he hadn't boughten any groceries for the week. The pie had been big enough to feed a family for a few days, but this would last Nico a week. He hadn't thanked her when he accepted the pie, but Bex had received a letter on her doorstep a week later from Nico, acknowledging her kindness and promising that the debt would be repaid. Bex had walked back over to his manor and told him he had no debt to her: "I don't like debts," she had said. "Don't worry about it."

No one had ever hugged her as tight as Nico Cadoc did that day.

And now, it was Sunday, one of the most popular days to sell at the market. Keaton planned to leave to set up his stand as the birds started to chirp at sunrise. He was always an early riser, wanting a head start before his competition. Bex wanted to help before he left. As the days went on, she learned to wake up earlier, and today was no different. She was dressed before the sun peaked over the horizon and began to haul the wood into the back end of his truck. He didn't even need to ask; she was doing it all by herself. Keaton watched by the window with his coffee in hand and a grin tugging at his lips.

It was when Bex finished stacking all the wood in the truck bed that Keaton came running outside, but that proud smile was replaced with something grimmer. Bex snapped the back closed and turned to her brother. Her lips were spread wide, but once she took in his face, her happiness faded and her brows knitted together. "What's up?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. Keaton looked to his dirty boots. "Hey, hey, is something wrong?"

He huffed and lifted his head. His response was flat: "Your Capitol friends are here."

She blinked incredulously. "What?"

Keaton simply stared back. His shoulders shrugged, but he was anything but casual right now. His eyes were blazing; his face expressionless. He was disappointed, but not in her. At himself, for believing that he could now have all the time in the world to spend with his sister, that her second life in the Capitol was done, that she wasn't an object for these people anymore.

Bex was frozen in place.

"It's only been a month and you're leaving again?" Keaton asked softly.

She bit onto her bottom lip and wrapped her arm around her brother's shoulders. Without saying a word, she walked them both to the house. It almost felt like she was dragging him as they reached the stoop, but once they were inside, sweat sticking to their skin, Bex eyed her team gathered in the kitchen. She leaned against the doorframe as Keaton stood at the door, staring at his feet.

Bex crossed her arms over her chest. "Another unexpected arrival?"

"Oh!" Iliana jumped out of her skin. She had been sifting through the fruit bowl, plucking ripe grapes when no one was looking. Turning on the edge of her ten-inch heel, she sighed, "Trust us, we hardly expected to be here either."

Keaton's grey stare appeared over his sister's shoulder, and his voice was stern when he asked, "So why are you here?"

Phoenix lifted his head from his spot at the counter. "Your presence has been requested in the Capitol."

"By Snow?" Bex asked with an arched brow.

"No," he quipped, a hint of humor in his tone, "by Atlas Pacuri."

Her face twisted. She hadn't thought about him since she left the Capitol, nor did she want to. From what she remembered of her conversation with Snow – she blocked out as much as possible from her memory – the President had mentioned they were good friends. If this was the case, why was Atlas requesting to see her again? It was abnormal for clients to want to meet more than once, and she always liked it that way.

Perhaps, he thought of her as a Finnick Odair-type. She felt bile rise in her throat.

"We haven't seen each other for a month," she finally replied, "and that was supposed to be the last time. Why now?"

Phoenix shrugged. "I received a call this morning from him, and he made it very clear to me that he's captivated by you. He asked to see you tonight at the Fairwood Restaurant."

Bex knew that he didn't ask. He demanded, and Phoenix, nor her, could refuse it. Not when he was so close to President Snow.

"Do you accept the date request?" Iliana asked, her pale eyebrows raised. "I might have already picked out the most darling dress."

The word, No, hung off the end of her tongue, waiting for release. She was practically itching to say it, to throw it back in this Atlas Pacuri's face. But then, Bex looked at her brother, who nodded in her direction. A silent answer, but one she knew well. She exhaled when she turned back to her team and muttered, "I don't really have a choice in the matter, do I?"

Phoenix took the split second that only Bex's eyes were on him to shake his head. Iliana sent her a sad smile before walking forward and ushering her towards the stairs. "Let's get you washed up and packed before we head to the train."

As Bex ascended the stairs to her bedroom with her team, she looked back at Keaton still hanging by the kitchen. She couldn't stop herself from mouthing the word, Sorry.

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The dress Iliana had picked out felt like a second skin. It was a creamy, pale pink, accentuating her tan skin and the small dust of freckles on her shoulders. The fabric was tight in all the right places and the small bow in the middle made her look like she was a present for Atlas to unwrap. She hoped that her assumptions were wrong.

For her face, Iliana had played with glitters. She used all neutral tones: brushing pink-nude glitter across Bex's lid and placing a shimmery coral color in the inner corner. Iliana also scattered that same coral shade across her cheeks, and then topped off her lips in a similar color. She left Bex's hair natural and wild, but still placed a single, white lily behind her ear.

A District Seven native had walked on this train, but when they finally stopped in the Capitol, the Flower Girl emerged in all her glory.

Bex was whisked away to the restaurant before she could even say goodbye to her team. Atlas had a car parked outside the train station for her, which then drove her off to the Fairwood Restaurant, and her team waited on the sidelines with bright smiles. After suffering through twenty minutes' worth of traffic – and anxiety as the restaurant got closer and closer – the car came to a halt outside the Fairwood Restaurant, and her door was opened. She went to tip the driver before he graciously denied her with his hands.

Bex felt her insides twist as she entered the restaurant. If she didn't have such a high level of tolerance, she might've puked on the steps leading to the entrance. But she forced it down, putting on her best smile as she said to the hostess, "I'm here to see Atlas Pacuri."

The hostess beamed in her direction. "I know," she said, gesturing for Bex to follow her. As she was led into the dining room, the hostess whispered over her shoulder, "I must say, it's an honor to meet you. Mr. Pacuri is a lucky man."

A lucky man? Bex thought, brow furrowing. It wasn't like they were dating.

"The woman of the hour."

She heard his voice immediately throughout the room. Atlas stood from the booth situated in the back of the dining hall, hidden from curious eyes. His blue hair was slicked back tonight and his dark roots were showing at the edge of his hairline. He sent her that same sparkling grin, arms spread for her embrace as the hostess stopped before the booth. Swallowing down her nerves, Bex wrapped her arms around his back and gave him the shortest of hugs. Atlas didn't seem to mind, though. His happiness was never-ending as they took their seats at the booth.

Bex had never been to the Fairwood Restaurant before. It must have been new, but even so, business was booming. The prices were outrageous and their location was near almost every popular spot in the Capitol. The food was absolutely delicious, probably some of the best that she had in the Capitol to date, but she wouldn't always trust her opinion. No matter how many years she'd tasted of this good life, Bex would always remember what it felt like to go without food. Everything tasted divine to her. She ate every meal to the last crumb, as if she were still that little girl who went to bed with nothing but an apple in her stomach.

Atlas had managed to almost completely forget the dish that was set in front of him as Bex picked off meat from the chicken leg with her bare hands. However, she did do her best not to mess up her nail polish. He blinked at how animalistic she was being, and after a moment more, he stuttered out, "S – So, um – what are your hobbies?"

"Hobbies?" Bex looked down at her hands, at the meat stuck to her fingers, and tried to casually clean off her hands with a napkin. She swallowed hard. "Well ..."

Atlas' brow shot up.

"I don't know." Her shoulder sunk. "I guess I ..."

As she trailed off, her eyes connected with someone else's across the dining hall. Her stare narrowed, lips formed into a frown. This booth was supposed to be hidden, but clearly not enough, because Finnick Odair wouldn't break his damn stare. She felt like throwing her fork across the room and seeing if it would hit him the eye. Bex had good enough aim to know that it would. But she also had a good amount of restraint, and Atlas was still here.

He was staring at her, anxiously waiting for an answer.

"Cutting wood," she finally blurted. "I like to cut wood. For my brother. He has a business in our District."

"You like ... cutting wood?" Atlas repeated with a confused expression.

She released that flirtatious giggle. "You got it."

He let go one of his own, and Bex flickered her eyes back to Finnick. The purple-haired woman in front of him was rambling, hands thrown in the air, while he stared at Bex and placed a piece of cake in his mouth. She sent him a glare, one that would scare a thousand men into submission, but Finnick wasn't them. He simply snickered at her anger.

"Well, for me, I like to –" Atlas cleared his throat. "Are you listening?"

Bex reverted her attention quickly. "Of course," she said, using a fork to now eat her chicken. It would've been so much easier to use her hands. "What do you like to do for fun?"

"I'm actually a big fan of gardening. Sometimes, I dream of becoming a stylist too." He sighed dreamily. "I also like spending time with you."

But Bex didn't return the sentiment. She was attempting to practically burn Finnick away with her eyes, and he continued to chuckle at her and her only. Her fury only provoked him more. Now she was really curious to see what would happen if she threw her fork –

"Is everything alright, Bex?"

She glanced back at Atlas, feigning innocence, and wiped the edge of her mouth, careful of her lipstick. "Yes, I just –" She breathed heavily into the napkin and set it on the table. "I think I need to go to the bathroom. Will you excuse me?"

Atlas gestured in approval, although Bex would argue that she didn't need it to piss. She sent him a sweet smile before stomping her way to the bathroom, making sure to send Finnick a final scowl as she exited the dining area. He bit his bottom lip to stop himself from outwardly laughing in front of his date.

Once inside the bathroom, Bex took in a few deep breaths. She then turned on the faucet and let water run over her hands. She cupped the water, splashed it on her face, and looked at herself in the mirror. Droplets slipped down her face, threatening to ruin her makeup, but Iliana had sealed it completely.

Bex didn't recognize herself, what her life had become. This is what being a Victor was like. No one ever won the Games. She certainly did not. Now, she covered in pink and glitter and looked like a doll. Just the thought made her want to cry, but she had been bottling her sadness for so many years that she forgot how to let it out.

"Get a grip," she told herself in the mirror, sucking up all the courage she had left. Bex picked up a paper towel on the sink and dabbed her face. "You can do this."

She could. She had to.

Bex huffed a ragged breath and exited the bathroom, but not before she was greeted with that familiar, sun-kissed face for the tenth time that night.

"Fancy meeting you here," Finnick chuckled, trying to push past her.

The hall between the two bathrooms was thin. Her chest was basically pressed up against Finnick's as she tried to move past him.

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "You're in my way."

"You really have to stop giving me the stink eye while I try to focus on my date," he replied, completely ignoring her statement. Bex scowled. "Careful. Your face could get stuck that way."

"Oh, no," she sneered, "what I should stop doing is talking with you."

Finnick snorted, "I'm probably a lot more interesting than that loon sitting across from you."

Bex looked around, craning her neck across the room to make sure no one was watching. When she realized the coast was clear, her hand latched onto Finnick's bicep, and he whistled as she dragged him into the women's bathroom. He was thrown against the lip of the sink and she began to check under every stall, making sure they were empty. "If you wanted to get me alone, Miss Nassar," he sniggered, "all you had to do was ask."

"Can you just shut up for once?" She whispered viciously.

"What are you so worried about? It's not like anyone can hear us in here."

"You really don't get it, Finnick." Bex snapped and approached him at the sink. His long lashes batted her way. "I spoke with Snow recently."

He raised a trimmed brow. "Funny, as did I. He told you that he doesn't want us speaking too?"

"Of course, he did! We're his two most valuable assets in his agreement. He doesn't want us to get distracted by each other," she exhaled, "and you best listen to him or – I don't know what could happen."

Finnick laughed.

"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "What's so funny?"

"Are you distracted by me, Bex Nassar?"

She scoffed. "You're so nauseating!"

"You say, nauseating. Others say, delightful, charming, handsome –"

Bex shook her head and headed for the door, fighting the urge to look back at him, to take in those sea-green irises once more. She managed to make it back to her table in one piece, and smiled at Atlas as an apology. But she couldn't stop feeling that tug of regret. For what, she didn't know.

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The moon was high in the sky as Atlas and Bex exited the restaurant. A chill ran through the air and the stars sparkled, almost like his eyes. A car waited on the side of the street, and Bex wondered if it was to take them home together. She hesitated and didn't speak, waiting for him to answer, and batted her eyelashes – a crucial part of her training.

After a moment of indecision, Atlas leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. This was one thing she was always appreciative of him: his gentleness, the softness of his touches. He was never aggressive with her, like most clients, and she didn't need to yell at him to calm down. His kiss even made a slight blush creep up her cheeks. But at this point in her life, Bex never knew if it was for real or just for show.

With Bex's fingers interlocked with his, Atlas also used this moment to slide a wad in her pocket, which meant their night together was ending. He thought she wouldn't notice, and she almost didn't, if it weren't for the heaviness of the money he was slipping into the inside pocket of her jacket. She pretended not to see it. Or feel the weight of it in not just her pocket, but her own conscious as well. Bex continued to smile sweetly at him.

"I had a fantastic night with you, Atlas. Thank you for wanting to see me again," she said as nice as she could.

"No, thank you for accepting my invitation," he retorted, as if she actually had a choice in the first place. "I have a proposition for you, Miss Nassar."

Atlas laced her other hand with his and she continued that flirtatious smile, like he was the only man she wanted in life. Clients absolutely loved it.

"The President is having a party tomorrow. All his closest friends are invited. It's going to be so much fun – lots of food, dancing, socializing. I heard even this year's new Gamemaker will be in attendance!" He grinned big. "I was hoping you would attend with me tomorrow night."

Bex's eye twitched. That sounded like the last thing she wanted to do. It was another demand, not a request. Her blood boiled at the thought of another party, and yet another night with Atlas Pacuri. But she tried to keep her face still, consistent with the act.

It felt like her lungs were going to give out when she replied, "Yes."

This act was going to kill her.

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A/N: another capitol party, which means more drama 🥳 more finnick and maybe even a scene with plutarch!