〔 Where you come in 〕
I need a male, a semi-lit writer
It would start with the choosing, My girl and your boy who would be a Career arrogant type. For example; Cato from the books and movie The Hungergames. It is there story on becoming somewhat fond of each other, either by Olivia's shyness or his arrogance, and how the two polar opposite personalities come together and get through the games. If you have any questions just ask :)
sidenote: in my post your not the district one boy, I just randomly made him up for the purpose of his commentary.

Faceclaim; Scarlett Leithold
https://pbs.twimg.comFaceclaim;/media/C0Xrk1KWQAEYsFs.jpg
https://pbs.twimg.com/media/ChDm1SsW4AAahnj.jpg
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Olivia , District 12, 16 years old
I was chosen. I was pulled away from my family. Teared from my friends. Torn away at my seams, leaving me alone vulnerable. The boy who was chosen also was seventeen, and was a complete asshole. I was only 16 years of age who was only five feet. I came from an abusive family, so there was a side of me who was ready to leave. I knew I wouldn't last. But I wouldn't dare to put up a fight.
The first training day. I came in that skin tight suit they made us wore that cling to me in a way I wasn't use to. My long blonde hair was pulled up in a high pony and with that, I was thrown into this Arena that was suppose to make me prepared for the hunger games? I mean prepared enough if I used my time well, I could actually be trained to kill kids. I mean thats what we all were, potential child murderers. I see the Careers, strong and boastful as they looked at the prey that would be ready for them in two weeks time. I go to the knives, as that was the only thing I knew how to do. I could hear District One's boy make a comment about how "inviting" I look. Whatever that predatory comment meant. He touches my arm and that's when I pull away " Do not touch me" I say and I could hear him smirk and make a comment about my "sass.'' I gave a sigh as I got my knives ready, trying to focus on my own tune instead of theirs. I felt myself grow angry just holding this knife. The knife that was offered to us to slit children's throats and Axes to bare the heads. One. Two. Three Knives I threw. Each one landing in the red circle on the heart of the hall figure.
