Finnick Odair shook his golden hair in panic, his beautiful face freezing in a terrified expression. His sea-green eyes went wide with fright. He was surrounded. The mutts were assembled in a circle around him. He thought the arena was his type, but no one could have predicted the shark muttations. They swam around him, their black-green eyes piercing his heart, their fins flapping in time with his heartbeat. Sha-shoomp. Sha-shoomp. Sha-shoomp. He shook out his curls, soaked with sweat as he creamed in terror. And then he awoke, alone in his berth. His houseboat rocked from side to side. The waves were comforting, crashing all around. Nothing was wrong, so why the nightmares again? It had been seven weeks since the last one, enough time for Finnick to think they were gone. But yet another nightmare. He stood up, stretching his muscular arms up to the ceiling, working out the kinks. Was his tan fading? Or was it just the light? Finnick paced the ground. The reaping for the 65th Hunger Games was approaching fast. Two days left. He had a bad feeling about this year, like his time was ticking. 1…2…3…His heart pounded, thinking of his dream. Finnick stared across the cabin at the calendar on the wall. Would he live past this month?
Finnick pulled to shore and jumped over the railing to tie off. Then froze and stared. Her dark, lustrous hair blowing in the wind was mesmerizing. He sniffed the air, breathing in the scent of her shampoo. Her green eyes pierced even the hardest soul, like beautiful, living polished emeralds. "Finn! Dude, stop staring!" Evan whacked Finnick on the neck. Finnick rubbed his neck and gaped after Annie.
"You could have any girl here, but no, go after the shy brainiac," Evan mocked. Finnick retorted,
"It's not even like that. You have no idea!" Evan shook his head and walked way. Annie Cresta. How to even approach such a subject? Everything she did was lovely.