Author's Note: I apologize for the long delay between updates. I was working on an original fiction story to get it ready to submit to a publisher. Now that it's sent out and waiting for a reply, I was finally able to get back to this story. I give you District 4...

Emma Hemmings POV

"See, this is why I just adore prepping the district four tributes." Audacity says. "With all that saltwater and sun they all have such beautiful hair and skin!" The sage green cabbage rose pattern of Audacity's dress is continued down her arms in a mildly ridiculous tattoo and I watch the roses float around as she rakes a comb through my long, bottle-blonde hair. I don't have the heart to tell her that the sun-kissed glow isn't natural. Gone is the elaborate braid, complete with gems, seashells and baby starfish that my mother had woven for the reaping. After a washing and drying, my hair now falls loose, in the stylist chair it reaches all the way to the floor.

"Um," I say. "Thank you." What do you really say to something like that? Apparently I didn't need to say anything because none of them acknowledge that I open my mouth.

"Stand up so I can smooth your skin." Sparkle -presumably either named for the glittering rhinestones embedded in her skin, or perhaps embellished because of the name- rubs a glittering lotion all over my body; making me sparkle as the light flickers across my naked flesh. She sweeps my mane of hair aside to apply the lotion to my back, buttocks and legs, and I wonder how much of my body is going to be showing for the opening ceremonies.

My hair tickles the back of my knees when it is released and I feel a little less vulnerable with at least my back half covered. If there had been a guy in the room I might feel self-conscious about my body being on display, but thankfully my whole prep team is female. I try to imagine these same ladies prepping my brother, Mike, fiddling with his hair and rubbing lotion on him, but I can only see them giggling and drooling over him. I gag a little at the idea. I love my brother, but a girl can only watch people fawn over her twin for so long before it gets old.

"I know we're just supposed to get her to beauty base zero, but I'd love to paint her nails a purple haze color to go with these streaks in her hair." Regency, who obviously loves purple, given the lavender hue of her skin and the rich violet eyes rimmed with matching, lush eyelashes, flicks one of my purple highlights with her own three inch fingernails and gets the bright yellow talon tangled in the long strands.

"It's a good thing you're not a stylist then." a deep male voice from behind makes me jump a little. Oh god. My stylist is a guy? Why don't they at least let me have a robe?

The prep team steps back and I stand rigid and terrified. Why oh why is he going to look at me naked? I want to cover myself but I resist the childish urge. I'm not the first tribute to have to stand naked for observation, and I'm far from the last. As the stylist approaches though, I can't help but pinch my eyes shut. I stand for a few minutes, waiting to die of embarrassment, or for the stylist to pick apart my flaws.

"This looks fine," he says. "Go ahead and put a robe on and join me for lunch, sweetheart."

My eyes pop open in surprise at the endearment and I catch a glimpse of my stylist for the first time. He's young, very young for a stylist. He can't be older than his early twenty's. The first thing I see are the piercing green eyes that are still raking my body. His perfectly shaped lips are curled into a slight smile and I picture his strong hands wrapped in my hair, as I run my fingers through his short-cropped brown hair. I have to clench my thighs against the warmth that suddenly hits me hard and low.

If I were the type of girl to jump a guys bones, I would definitely enlist my stylist for a last hurrah before going into the arena. He's not dressed in an elaborate getup like the prep team, instead his tan, muscled arms are hugged by the short sleeves of a white cotton shirt. The blue denim pants and black boots only serve to make him even more rugged. If I didn't know he were a stylist in the capitol, I'd think he were a poster-boy from District 7, straight out of the lumber yard.

Thankfully, he turns away from me and Regency hands me a robe. The electricity in the air breaks and the heat now flushes my cheeks. I slip gratefully into the robe, shocked at such a reaction to my stylist. I've never had such a strong physical reaction to a man before. Not even Bartek. Horror slams into my gut and I swallow hard as I think of my fiance. Engaged not even a day yet and I'm having fantasies about another man. I wrap the robe tighter around me than is necessary and I cross over to the separate sitting room where the stylist is sitting. There is food all over the table next to him and he gestures for me to sit across from him.

I perch on the edge of the seat, keeping the robe held tight at my throat and knees.

"Go ahead and grab a plate and-" The stylist glances at me and takes in the death-grip I have on the robe. He laughs softly, stands up and walks around the table towards me. I clench the robe even tighter and my eyes flair at him. My heart races and I can feel my breath catch in my throat. Half of me is convinced that if he touches me I'll scream; the other half knows I might moan. He stands above me and looks down as I shiver and look up into his eyes.

"Stand up." He says.

I slowly obey, though I don't know how I manage to stand on legs made of jell-o. His fingers brush against my neck as he touches the collar of my robe and I have to bite my lip to keep back what I'm afraid might be a moan. I close my eyes again in an attempt to block out the visions of what his fingers could do, and I feel his fingers trace a line down the front of the robe, pausing every few inches.

"There," he says. "That will make it easier to eat."

I open my eyes, confused, and look down at the robe. The robe is pinned in several places so that I'm covered from chin to calf. He's still standing in front of me, the smile looking suspiciously like a smirk.

"Thank you..." I trail off, realizing I don't know his name.

"Justin." He sits back down and resumes loading food onto his plate.

"I'm-" He cuts me off before I can introduce myself.

"Emma Hemmings, 18 years old, daughter of Bella Thorpe, winner of the 155th games and Edward Hemmings, winner of the 151st games." Justin recites my bio from memory and I feel stupid that I even felt I had to introduce myself. "If I had to bet, I'd say that if it weren't for the rules of the quarter-quell, your twin brother, Michael, might have been the one sitting with me right now."

"It should have been Mike in this chair. It's what he's wanted since we were ten, to be a tribute in the quarter-quell. He's probably more than a little pissed that I'm here and not him." I fiddle with a strand of hair, running my fingers through it, looking for snags like I do when I'm nervous, but the prep team has done so good a job that I'm smoothing my fingers through silk.

"Well Emma," I look up and see Justin watching my fingers sliding through my hair. "No offense to your brother, but I'm glad it's you here. Much better view."

My cheeks flush again and I pick up my plate as a subtle change of subject. I survey the options laid out before me and groan. Smoked salmon, baked trout, fried catfish, cioppino, clam chowder, shellfish bisque, oysters on a half shell. Fish, so original. I hate fish, the smell, the texture, the taste. I'm surrounded by it at home and don't say anything because of course, a girl from district 4 hating fish would be such an atrocity that I'd have been mocked endlessly. I was really hoping that leaving district 4 I could have some crisp fruit salad or even a steak.

"Something wrong?" Justin picks up an oyster shell and tips the slimy blob into his mouth. I nearly gag and look away quickly. How on earth could anyone think that oysters are an aphrodisiac? They're so disgusting.

"I hate fish," I blurt out, then laugh at how silly it is that I've never said it out loud before. "Could I maybe have some red meat?"

The grin on Justin's face is devastating and I smile in return. "How about a hamburger?" He offers.

"Anything's fine," I say. "As long as it's not fish."

Tyler Austin POV

"I can't believe I have to shave this off!" Kitty reaches around from behind and strokes the neat trim of my beard and pouts at me. "I really think this sexy beard of yours could reel in a lot of sponsors." She leans in close and I feel the brush of her lips on my ears. "I'd sponsor you in a heartbeat," she whispers. "If I could." She stands back up straight and with a small pair of scissors continues trimming my hair in the back.

"Honey, it doesn't matter what we do," Violet finishes buffing my nails and winks at me. "We could dress him in rags or send him out there naked and he's gonna get sponsors." I wink back at her and grin.

"Ooh!" Velveteen hops up from massaging my feet and lands in my lap. "I vote for naked!" He bats his eyes at me and I throw back my head and laugh.

"And how exactly would me being naked signify fishing?"

"Who cares?" Velveteen wraps his arms around my neck and nuzzles my chin.

"It's been four hours. Aren't you done yet?"

Velveteen scrambles off my lap faster than a jackrabbit. He lines up next to Violet and Kitty, the three of them contrite and embarrassed.

"We just need to shave his beard." Kitty says, lowering her eyes to the ground. I almost feel bad for her.

Everyone is quiet for a minute while I stare at my stylist and he stares back at me. My initial thought is that I think he'll be a good stylist. He has obviously put a lot of effort into his own style. His longish brown hair is shaggy in a way that makes me think he spent an hour in front of a mirror getting it just right; the square, black rimmed glasses around his green eyes appear to be more for fashion than function. His white button-up shirt is rolled up at the sleeves, revealing multiple colorful tattoos the full length of both forearms. The tails of the shirt are tucked into some black skinny jeans which have the ankles rolled up an inch or so to show the socks beneath. The suspenders, bow tie and socks are all cherry red, popping color against the monochromatic outfit. He strokes his thin, neatly trimmed beard, then nods his head. "Leave the beard. I think it'll work in our favor. You can go now."

Kitty squeals a little, and they leave the room. The stylist shakes his head and chuckles. "I'm James, your stylist. We'll get some food then get you into your costume for the opening ceremonies." James turns from me and walks towards an adjoining room. "Oh, and put some clothes on man, I don't want to see your junk."

I shrug into the robe that the prep team left for me and follow James to a table covered with food. I load up a plate with as much as it will hold and sit down to eat. I grip a crab leg and snap it in half, then pull the flesh out of the shell. "I'm Tyler by the way, Tyler Austin." I wipe the juices of the crab off my hands and reach out to shake hands.

"Yeah," James nods at me but doesn't take my hand. "I watched the reaping and I've already received your dossier. I probably know more about you than even your mother at this point."

I withdraw my outstretched hand and shrug, then resume eating. "So, what's our getup going to be?"

"You know Poseidon?"

"God of the Sea?" I quirk an eyebrow and grin. "Cool."

"Yeah, well, you're close. You'll be his son."

I pause mid-bite and groan. "I'm going to be a freaking mermaid?"

"Merman." James corrects me. "And yeah, what better way to represent fishing than with merfolk? Besides, with your physique, you'll get a dozen sponsors easy just from the chariot ride if we do this right."

He glances at the slim watch on his wrist. "Speaking of which, the prep team spent so long drooling over you that we need to cut lunch short and get you dressed."

"Dressed" is a very loose term for the amount of fabric on my body. The green, shimmering wrap is absurd, with fin-like fabric flared out at my hips, a slight train that I guess is supposed to resemble the tail, and a V-shaped waistline that dips much closer to my cup than I would like. A shark tooth necklace is the only thing I wear on my upper body, other than my token -a turquoise pin of a swordfish- which is pinned to a black band around my bicep. I'm not surprised, the tributes from District 4 are never fully clothed. I just wish I weren't basically wearing a skirt.

James and my prep team circle me like sharks, occasionally reaching out to adjust this, or smear glimmering lotion on that, until they are satisfied with my look.

"Good job team," James says. "I think Poseidon would be proud." He leaves the prep area and leads the way to the staging area for the opening ceremonies. I follow along, almost forgetting how nearly naked I am. Almost. We arrive at the chariot before Emma and her team and I wonder if she'll be a mermaid too. I hope not. She's freaking hot as it is, and if she's in nothing but a wrap and a seashell bra I am in for a massively uncomfortable chariot ride.

A troupe of girls run up to my prep team and I angle my head, trying to catch a glimpse of Emma. All I can see is a curled wisp of her honey and plum hair brushing against some teal satin at her thigh. Her stylist steps aside and I get a full view of her gorgeous body. So much more than I ever thought I'd see. The wrap for her is skin tight, following the curve of her hips but is open more in the front, showing off her long golden tan legs. Like mine, the waist dips low on her hips, beckoning me to follow V of her waistline. Avoiding that dangerous path, I snap my eyes up to her face, her cove blue eyes are lined in black, making their color pop. The purple eye make up complements the streaks of plum purple in her hair. Even her lips while a deep red, have a hint of purple, just at the inside of her pouty bottom lip.

My gaze traces the curve of her neck, to her collarbone and down. A diamond and sapphire encrusted seahorse rests at her neck on a slender silver chain, but I barely notice it. When my gaze reaches her chest I stop short and my breath catches. They didn't put her in a seashell bra. She's topless. Her hair is artfully arranged to cover her breasts but knowing that there is nothing but a layer of silky blonde hair between me and those breasts gets me hard as a diamond. How do they expect me to stand so close to her on the chariot and not put my hands all over her?

I swallow hard and wipe my suddenly sweaty hands on my skirt. The slippery fabric absorbs nothing.

"Hey," she smiles at me, her lip quavering a bit.

"Uh, h-hi," I try to think of something slick to say. "Like my skirt?" She blinks at me and I give a crooked smile. What an idiot.

Emma POV

I blink a couple times, then giggle at Tyler, grateful that he's cracking jokes. I'm nauseated at the idea of standing on the chariot dressed as I am, with only a small strip of cloth and my own hair as protection from the eyes of the nation. His cracking jokes eases some of the tension.

"Yeah, but I think it looks better on me." I joke back. He gives me a pained look and adjusts his stance. I can't help notice he looks uncomfortable. Did I say something wrong?

"No shit. I mean-" he swallows and rakes his fingers through his hair then shrugs. "I guess you look alright. We should probably get ready to head out." He turns away from me and steps up onto the chariot. The blow of rejection hits me in the gut and I throw dagger eyes his way. Why should I care what he thinks. Granted, at least 6 foot 4, with a body chiseled and honed so that he almost looks like a statue of Poseidon, but he's not superior to me. Nonetheless, I look down to see what about me might have made him turn in disgust, but even I can't deny that the stylist made me look beautiful.

I step up onto the chariot next to him and stare straight ahead. If he wants to give the cold shoulder, then two can play at that game. He might think he's something special, but I'll be damned if I'll let his pretty boy charm steal any of my sponsors. I plaster a toothpaste ad grin on my face as soon as the chariot starts it's decent down the city street towards the city center.

When Justin arranged my hair I was worried that the wind might blow the hair away from it's designated place and reveal more of me than I'd like. He assured me that the spray he applied to my skin would keep the hair in place, but I wasn't sure I believed him. Now, standing next to Mr. Smug, I almost hope Justin was wrong. If I have a wardrobe malfunction I'm sure to land more sponsors than him.

I wave enthusiastically to the crowd, turning this way and that, making sure to share my attention with everyone. I shoot a glance over to Tyler and see he's also laying on the charm. The snake. I thrust my shoulders back and lean forward on the rail of the chariot, making sure he doesn't show me up.

One of my adoring fans throws a rose at us and I reach out to try to catch it, but it hits one of the horses in the face instead. The horse rears up and paws the air, jostling the chariot and making me fall off balance. I stumble into Tyler and he catches me, keeping me from falling.

The horse rights himself and continues pulling us toward the city center, but I'm no longer paying attention to the crowd. I'm paying attention to the surprisingly strong arms around my waist, the lightly scruffy beard inches from my face, the warm hand that is almost touching my breast. I look into his sea-foam green eyes and see what can only be hunger. I lick my lips lightly nip the bottom lip. There is no chilly indifference between us now. Only heat, rolling in waves, swirling like a hurricane.

"You alright there?" His voice is husky and low, and only for me. I nod and he helps me stand up, letting his hand slide slowly down my side and across my bare stomach. We break apart and I finally notice the catcalls and whistles from the crowd. What the hell is wrong with me? First Justin, now him? It's like my hormones know what I've got into here and are trying their best to give me one last hurrah before I head into the arena. Well it's not going to happen. Tribute or not, I'm engaged and a sexy as hell stylist, and the way-too-hot-for-my-own-good Tyler aren't going to sway me.

My lips tremble slightly as I get the grin back and resume waving to the crowd, careful now to keep both feet flat on the chariot.

Tyler POV

My skin is warm where it touched hers and I can tell she felt it, he heady lust pulsing between us. She's smiling and waving for the crowd again, but I can tell she's paying attention to me, not them. I also resume my efforts to charm the sponsors. I intentionally stay close to her, letting our wraps brush against each other, the silky fabric sliding like water. I know that the announcers and the crowd caught our whole interaction. Unless something spectacular happens with one of the other chariots, we'll be the talk of the night on the recap. You gotta love serendipitous little events that can make the ordinary extraordinary.

We circle the center and line up in front of the presidents house. President Rayne smiles at us all, and maybe I imagine it, but it seems like her gaze lingers on me and Emma longer than the others. I glance at Emma and she is staring straight ahead, ignoring me. I know our little contact has her rattled. I realize it's something I can use to my advantage. If I can keep her off balance, maybe even get her in the sack and pull her emotional strings I could weave this little moment into leverage in the arena.

I cross my fingers that we end up in the same alliance when the allies are chosen.

Favorite characters? Least Favorites? Any predictions so far? Please be sure to favorite and review. Hopefully the updates will be coming faster now.