deals in gold and girls | {elara/kellan}

[dars]

K E L L A N .

Pulse against my temple, bang, bang, bang— I despised headaches.

Stress bleeding from my pores, forcing my skin to sweat and my fingers to shake and, yes, my head to throb with every beat of my heart. I wanted this to be over. The Capitol had made their point— great, now why couldn't they just leave us the hell alone.

("We'll be taking over the planning
from here on out.")

Crescent's voice was an endlessly annoying, too-pleasant nail against a chalkboard in my head.

Lists of big names who had been invited to our wedding against our will— "You can still invite a few of your closest family and friends," Crescent had said.

I walked with my hands stuffed inside my pockets, piece of card stock in my hand.

Elara Stell.

Justice would probably have killed me, but I needed joy wherever I could find it, so I had decided he could deal with it. He got to be a victor every day. I was only going to be a groom for a few hours. Tough shit for him.

I ducked inside a coffee shop, saw her sitting on the far side of a table near the back, cold hands pressed against the surface of dark liquid. Pretty, I thought, She's no Pyrite, but...

I sat down across from her, tossing her invitation onto the table.

"Your Mom told me I would find you here. Seemed kind of pissed about it," I said. A server walked up, and I asked for a cup of coffee— black. "As strong as possible. Add a couple shots of espresso, actually." The bags under my eyes could attest to my need for energy and my need for this bullshit to be over with.

"You ditching out on your chores or somethin'?" I asked, turning back to face Elara. It was almost comical, how common it was for the youth of District One to have poor relationships with their parents. It was always the pressure that caused it, I thought: the expectations of parents to be parents and children to be victors, and both sides being disappointed when none of it happened.

"Anyway," I said, placing my elbows on the surface of the table and leaning my chin on top of my fists, "It's a wedding invitation. I would have just given it to Justice, but if I have learned anything after a lifetime of living with him, it is that he sucks at being punctual. So, there you go."

Sucks at being punctual, ha. What an understatement. He had only decided to be a half decent career the same year he was reaped, and then he lucked out and won the games. Pretty girls, golden crowns— Justice Fray made a living on showing up late and claiming what everyone else overlooked.

"The wedding is going to be ridiculously overdone, so make sure you spend an entire paycheck on a dress you'll never wear again."

The server brought my coffee out. Thank God.

"No, but seriously, please come. We need more normal people to counteract all of the crazy ass strangers."

Strangers might not have been the best word to use. All I knew about Elara Stell was that she was pretty, and she was smart enough to not let my little brother control her. Either she was more crazy than the best of them, or she was wise.

I really, really hoped, for the sake of my sanity and Pyrite's, that it was the latter.

Sip of coffee, and my eyes met hers with as much pleading as I could manage, which was probably not a lot at all, but whatever, I was trying.

"So? What do you say?"