CHAPTER 3
GAME OF SURVIVAL

BY the time night fell, Bex was already on the way to the Capitol. She didn't understand why her team insisted on getting her put together in case people saw them walking to the train. Her popularity in her own District wasn't that immense anymore. When she had first won, there used to be lines of people waiting for her to get off the train or on, all congratulating her for bringing glory to their District. She kissed babies' heads and hugged weeping parents. It was all rather consuming.

Now, no one batted an eyelash for Bex Nassar. No one waited by the train tracks, hungry for her arrival. No one gave her a second look as she walked through the food market. She liked it so much better this way.

Bex was thrown into a cold shower almost immediately. They were to arrive in the Capitol in a few hours. She did her best to cram a few finger sandwiches in her mouth, but Phoenix had shoved her towards the backroom and reminded her that "a Victor is never late. Even when they are late, they aren't. Everyone else is simply early." She didn't have the willpower to fight with him as she took an extra sandwich to her personal bathroom.

The cold water from the shower helped her get out faster. Her stylist did this purposely; she knew Bex well enough that she liked to take super hot showers, using that time to think over who-knows-what. They didn't have that kind of time. The shower lasted a total of ten minutes, and then Bex was thrown into the vanity station.

As Iliana's team gathered around and began to prep her face, Bex continued to chomp down on the last of the sandwich she'd stolen from the dining area. Iliana tsked and snatched it from her hand, causing Bex to yell, "Hey!"

"We do not need you eating and getting bloated before an important event," the stylist reminded.

"I haven't eaten any dinner," Bex argued. "Just let me finish it."

Iliana's hand hovered over the trash can. "Well ... alright," she sighed, walking back over and handing her Victor the last piece.

Bex smiled and plopped it into her mouth. "Thanks."

After her face was squeaky clean, the team turned to Iliana with hopeful eyes. They spun Bex around in the chair and Iliana gazed down at her. Finally, the stylist lifted a finger and her eyes lit up. "I have a vision," she giggled, shooing her team off to the side and placing her hand on the back of Bex's chair. Iliana met the Victor's eyes in the mirror. "Hair curled. Half-up, half-down. A crown braid wrapped at the top of her head with flowers woven in it. Natural, spiky brows. Natural lips, but –" She swung back to her team. "A green and turquoise look on the eyes. I'm thinking ... messy green glitter, and taking it all the way down the corner of the eye, and slightly down the bridge of the nose. What do we think about that?"

"You're a genius, Iliana," one of them beamed.

Another agreed with a nod, "Pure genius."

"Can you all get a room?" Bex sniggered.

Iliana glared at her in the mirror before turning the chair slightly in her direction. "Team: work on the hair. I'll take care of the face."

Bex rolled her eyes and allowed them to pick her apart. Piece by piece, section by section. She was hardly recognizable by the end of these makeup sessions, but she was distinguishable to the Capitol, which was all that mattered. At the very least, she was grateful that Iliana wanted to keep her brows natural and intact, only brushing them with a thin coat of gel. That part of her remained the same. The real Bex Nassar was still visible, even as she was being masked with glitter and braids.

Phoenix walked in at some point and sat down in an empty chair near the vanity. Instead of arguing with Iliana's styling choices, he complimented her work. Phoenix had once told Bex that he wanted to be a stylist, but at the time, it was rare for men to obtain that kind of job, so he stuck with being a gracious escort. The Capitol's views on male stylists had changed drastically since then, and there were certainly more men in the field than women. Even District Twelve's stylist, Cinna, was now being commended for his work in the 74th Games. Phoenix, however, was left to admire and praise, and he learned to live with it.

Iliana began to drag the green dust down the sides of Bex's nose when she spoke up again, but her tone was softer, less obnoxious: "I wonder if the Girl on Fire will be in attendance tonight. This is one of the President's grand parties."

Phoenix played with one of Iliana's makeup brushes and twirled it in between his fingers. He snorted, "I doubt it. Not with the ruckus she's been causing."

Bex was still awestruck at District Twelve's win in last year's Games. She didn't watch the 74th Games, due to her tributes dying on the first day, and thus, she was able to return to Seven quicker than she imagined. Bex didn't like watching the Games and took every chance to ignore them for as long as they ran, but she could never overlook the results, even if she tried. She was too curious for her own good. Bex never thought she'd see a win like that, but stranger things had happened before. Not only did the lowest District win, but the Capitol – somehow, someway – allowed both Katniss and her male tribute, Peeta Mellark, to win together. It seemed too good to be true. The Gamemakers must've had an angle here. What could this do for future Games?

She began to pick at the nail buds on her free hand while one of Iliana's assistants painted the other. Looking up at her team's conversation, she remarked, "I heard Katniss and Peeta's victory tour went well enough."

Iliana and Phoenix shared a confused look. "Not exactly," the stylist muttered before leaning back. Iliana studied her for a moment, and then pick up a palette full of her favorite blue shadows. "Let me ask you, Bex: as the youngest person in room, do you believe those two teenagers are really in love?"

"Katniss and Peeta?" Bex chewed on her bottom lip. No, she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. Bex may have not watched the Games, but she's seen those two lovebirds more than enough on TV to know that they had zero feelings for each other. But she knew the game they were pulling: the game of survival. They were willing to do anything for it, and if that meant pretending to be in love, she understood. She just wished they could be better actors about it.

Eventually, Bex shrugged. "Well –"

"Because I don't believe it, and many others feel the same. I heard it affected their victory tour quite greatly." Iliana smiled down at her and dusted blue on the edge of her lid.

"Quite?" Phoenix chuckled. "Some of her visits ended in protests and riots. I've talked to some of the other escorts and they're worried if there might be ..." He trailed off, but Bex knew what word he was about to say.

Uprisings. He wanted to talk about uprisings, like the one the Districts had all those years ago. How could one teenage girl's win be the start of history repeating itself? Just because people didn't believe her love story?

Bex kept her face expressionless, too afraid to show her confusion. She asked, rather quietly, "What if that does happen?" Bex paused, and Iliana's brush strokes stopped for a mere moment. Even her assistants didn't know what to do. "An uprising, I mean. What would happen?"

"Best not to think about that," Iliana replied, beaming from ear-to-ear once again. "That Katniss Everdeen is indeed a firecracker, but your reputation, dear Bex, is immaculate. Don't let her ruin it."

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Bex had been fidgeting with her dress all night.

Iliana had shoved her into a mermaid-style dress with an extremely low-cut V-neck top and a split in the middle that dared to show even more of her thighs. It was made out of sparkly green fabric that changed into a dark turquoise color when she brushed her hand against it, a perfect match for the look Iliana created on her eyes. The V-neck almost cut all the way down to her navel, and Bex couldn't help but try to pull it up throughout the night. Phoenix kept urging her to leave it alone.

She had arrived with Phoenix a little later than expected, but as he said before, a Victor was never truly late. Bex was always in awe whenever she approached the President's house. He could probably have twenty people living in his mansion and still have room to spare. He had colorful lights in every corner of the outside gardens, where the party was taking place, as well as enough food that could feed all of Panem. The wait staff were practically dancing around the party as they entered the scene, pushing through the clusters of people.

It was weird to think about how some Districts were starving, but the people in the Capitol had more than enough food to go around. They probably wouldn't even think twice about throwing away a whole loaf of bread, when Bex as a child had once seen a person so starved he started to eat a half-eaten apple off the ground.

Strangers and familiar faces grabbed at her arm to say hi, but Bex continued to follow Phoenix and allowed him to talk with whomever he deemed important. She didn't really like anyone here anyway; she didn't have a preference on who to talk to. With a hearty chuckle, Phoenix embraced some of his friends, Mr. and Mrs. Feury, and Bex shook their hands with as much enthusiasm that she could muster. The couple looked excited to see her just as much as Phoenix, and Mrs. Feury wouldn't stop talking about her hair.

"Oh, I would kill for those curls," she complained, picking up a limp piece of purple hair, as if it wasn't obviously a wig. "And those white roses in the crown! The President does favor those. Your stylist is so ..."

Bex learned to drown her out after a while. Just sending any of these people a fake smile made them believe you were listening. Bex turned her head and looked around at the bustling waiters and the groups of people chatting away. She met someone's eyes at a table in the far right corner of the gardens – a man with blue hair and dark eyes that sparkled in the moonlight – but she turned away quickly. Bex continued to scan the room while nodding along with Mrs. Feury's small talk.

Standing at a table with a man adorning a fuchsia suit that matched his hair was Cashmere from District One. Bex hadn't spoken a lot with the beautiful blonde, but they were friendly enough to send each other genuine smiles across the room. Same with Cecelia from District Eight, who was definitely forced away from her family just to attend this stupid party tonight. Bex could see it on her face. She was grinning at the Capitol men that stood around her, but she was dying on the inside, probably because she knew how this night would end. All three women did.

This was their debt to Snow, and he didn't want cash. They had no choice but to agree.

Bex scanned the gardens once again, finding another familiar face seated with a multitude of Capitol women. Finnick Odair was leaning his cheek into his palm as the pink-haired woman in front of him rambled on about some idiotic subject, and the rest of the group stared at him with different expressions of lust, awe, and even agony. These Capitol citizens – especially the women – would do anything for him. No one was more loved than Finnick of District Four. He was their Golden Boy, another one of Snow's prodigies in the ring that would never end.

Their eyes met from across the floor, and Finnick sent her the same charismatic smirk that probably made most women weak in the knees, or made them question about leaving their partners. She couldn't blame them. Finnick was pretty, she'd give him that. He was everything the Capitol wanted in a Victor.

Bex's eyes flickered away, mouth staying in a hard frown.

Eventually, she became too hungry for her own good. Bex always forgot that the champagne they liked to serve at these parties was laced with an ingredient to make you feel hungry so you could eat more. She patted Phoenix on her arm as he was speaking with more Capitol citizens – a couple named Amethyst and Zuro, to be exact – and whispered that she was going to look for the food table. Phoenix acknowledged her with a nod before she went off.

Bex played with the halter of her gown again as she meandered through the groups of people, some trying to haul her into their conversations and her trying to politely decline. (It was infuriating that she had to be nice to these people that acted so rudely in the first place.) Finally, Bex found a table near the left side of the party, stacked with multiple different food items. Macaroons, cake, fried duck, finger sandwiches, even slices of berry pie – all waiting for her to shove into her mouth. She was practically drooling at the sight of it.

She licked her fingers after plopping a whole green macaroon in her mouth, savoring the sweetness on her tongue. Bex then picked up a plate and began piling whatever caught her eye onto it. She didn't care who was watching, who was gawking at her diet choices – and for once, she was grateful for President Snow. Music started to play as he arrived on his balcony, and Bex continued to place more macaroons in her mouth now that people weren't paying attention. The President's hand was laced with his granddaughter's while he thanked everyone for attending.

Bex loved to forget about his existence when she could get away with it.

Piercing a piece of cake with her fork, she turned her head at the exact moment someone else appeared at her side. Bex's brow furrowed as Finnick Odair leaned against the food table. He plucked a tart from one of the many dessert stacks and placed it in his mouth, smirking in her direction. She eyed him down for a quick moment. He was wearing tight blue pants with embellished fish scales and a puffy-sleeved white shirt. The cut on his shirt was almost as low as her own, revealing the freckles that dotted not only his face but his chiseled torso too. A fishbone necklace dangled elegantly on his neck.

Bex was never too sure how she felt about Finnick. Of course, she empathized with him since they shared the same agreement with Snow, but she wasn't under his spell like the rest of Panem. She figured that out the second she laid eyes on him all those years ago, after she won her Games. Bex never found his charisma that enticing, nor did she like his personality. He was kind of full of himself, if you asked her. She had never met him before his Games, but the Capitol had certainly done a number when they turned him into their perfect Victor.

"Our lovely President is talking," Finnick muttered, gesturing to her, "and you can't even pretend to pay him any mind."

Bex's stare flickered up to the balcony again. Snow took his granddaughter into his arms and allowed her to wave to everyone. "I'm sure President Snow is getting all the attention he needs tonight."

Finnick chuckled under his breath before sliding closer to her. He tapped a finger on his chin and surveyed the crowd. "You must warn me before I get too ahead of myself this evening –"

"The night is still young," Bex reminded.

"– Who do you plan on taking home tonight?" He whispered, a smile playing at the corners of his pink lips. "You know, back to the hotel after this whole shindig is over? Just so I know who has dibs."

Bex looked away, watching everyone clap for Snow up above. "I don't want to talk about this," she said through gritted teeth.

"With me? But we're on the same playing field." He flashed her a grin. She scowled in his direction, and Finnick was pretty sure her dark eyes could cut like daggers. "It's good to see you, Bex Nassar. How's District Seven? Woodsy as always?"

He really needed to learn to take a hint. Bex was suddenly reminded of another reason why she didn't like Finnick: he talked far too much for her liking.

"As much as I love engaging in this conversation," she replied, a hint of malice in her already icy tone, "it's more dangerous than we can imagine."

People began to shout, and Bex turned her head to see them clapping in the other direction: away from Snow, much to his disapproval. Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark strode into the gates of the party with their mentor, Haymitch Abernathy. Peeta sent everyone a toothy smile while Katniss remained displeased as always. They were both dressed head-to-toe in reds, oranges, and yellows, a nod to Katniss' fiery nickname in the Capitol. The guests looked more excited to see the District Twelve tributes than the actual girl that the party was for, but as Bex glanced at the balcony, she noticed that Snow's granddaughter was just as ecstatic.

Bex felt someone's breath on the back of her neck, and every single hair on her body stood up. Finnick's mouth brushed against her ear as he whispered, "I've been told people don't believe her love story, that she's been inspiring some riots." He paused and released a chuckle. Bex's eyes slowly slid over to his. "Would you join her?"

She held her breath then. How dare he try to have this conversation in public? Maybe the Capitol couldn't do anything to him, but they certainly could to her. The President had taken so much of her and she'd be damned if she played into this discussion with Finnick Odair. It would only hurt her in the end. She had enough with the hurting.

Clearing her throat, Bex spun on the edge of her eight-inch heel. "Nice speaking with you, Finnick."

He flashed her a bright grin. "Likewise."

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A/N: the kids have had their first conversation!!!! 🥺 and you may be sensing some..........enemies to lovers excellence? well, to be clear, this fic will be mostly enemies to FRIENDS to lovers. we're truly thriving here and I can't wait to reveal more to y'all 🥳