Warning

This story will contain profanity, violence, maybe some anxiety and of course very much sexual content.

Hi guys! This is my first fanfiction so I would love some constructive criticism concerning my writing and my perception of the characters.

I hope you've already figured out that I'm not Suzanne Collins, neither do I own any of her books or her characters. But I hope you will like this story any way.


Chapter 1

Fuck You Gale Hawthorne

SMACK!

The wind whooshed out of my lungs, and I'm pretty sure I've got a red mark on my cheek the form of a small female pianist's hand. The right side of my face is warm and hurts like hell but a little smile still threatens to show on my face. Man, this girl has some – underestimated - strength. And guts! Not many sane people here in Twelve would dare lay a finger on me. Last time anyone was stupid enough to do so I sent him home with a broken nose, two fractured ribs and five broken fingers on his left hand as a reminder that he would never ever try to touch me again.

I look down on this petite girl and she still looks like she wants to kill me. I can't even give her one of my angry glares. She's so cute when she's angry. No scratch that, she's fucking sexy. Her cheeks are red and I can almost see the blood boiling beneath them, her eyes are narrowed as if she's a predator and I'm her pray and her chest is heaving in and out as if she's going to jump me and scratch my eyes out with those perfectly manicured nails any second. I don't even get disgusted with myself for already imagining her clawing other parts of me with those nails, but I make myself push that imagination away until later, when I'm alone.

I look at her left hand, which should sting like a bitch, given how my cheek feels right now, but her face doesn't show the slightest bit of pain. She's so mad she probably doesn't even feel the pain. She's surprisingly enduring and not as fragile as I thought, this tiny 17-year-old.

It's hard not to look at her breasts. I mean she's breathing so hard they almost fall out, and that blue little dress of hers with spaghetti straps only makes it harder to tear my eyes away. I mean she's practically serving them to me on one of those silver plates I know they have in their house.

I don't really listen but I know she's scolding me again and I can't hold my posture any more. It's so funny to see her this mad. I feel myself smirk and I can literally see the angry blush creep from her cheeks down her throat to her chest. I imagine her blood boiling under her skin, wanting to get out, and that it's me causing her to feel this. My smirk gets even bigger and I almost laugh but she surprises me again.

She takes two steps towards me, and now she's so close I can touch her. I can grab her waist and press her frail little body against me. I can even hit her back if I'd wanted to, but I wouldn't. Gale Hawthorn never hits a girl, no matter how much she deserves it, especially not this girl. Hell this time I might've actually deserved that slap. Before I can develop this creepy little one-man conversation in my head she watches me dead in the eye and she speaks.

"Fuck you Gale Hawthorn." She says in a low voice dripping with fury. With that she quickly turns around, her hair almost whipping me in the face, and I watch her walk away from me, her light blue dress swinging angrily around her thighs, until she's just a black dot in my vision. After a certain amount of time - I have no fucking clue how long I've been standing here watching her walk away – I lie down on the floor of flowers in the meadow, close my eyes and sigh. Once more I've been a dick to her. Maybe I should just make one of those silence promises and never ever utter a single word. Would we stop fighting then?

To be honest, I enjoy making her angry. I know it sounds horrible, and it probably is horrible, but I like it when she's all and fire and flames. I like seeing our towns perfect little Mayors daughter passionate over something else than a piano or some flower or a bird. (However, I have to admit I like those parts of her too. You know, the soft things.) Who would've guessed, a couple of weeks ago, that me and the fucking princess of all merchant girls would share this fire? Not me any way!

Although I've never made her hit me before. And she's never cursed at me before either. That was unexpected. Come to think of it, it was actually pretty hot. Maybe I'm starting to rub off on her.

Will this little midget – this painfully sexy midget – ever stop surprise me? After an hour on the meadow floor I'm still totally confused by the events of the latest half hour, but these things I'm sure of:

1.Madge Undersee should stop breathing in public. For her own - and my - safety.

2. I will have to endure a whole day in school with this slap mark on my cheek tomorrow. On second thought fuck that, I'll skip school, it's not worth all the bitching my friends will put me through.

3. It was so fucking worth it.


Next update will come very soon. Thanks for reading and I hope you liked the first chapter, there's more to come.