The afternoon sunlight deliciously caresses my skin. I pause and close my eyes, every inch of my body devouring the warm delight. A cool breeze dances around me, tugging at my hair, twirling it into impossible knots. This is a rare joy, this walk in the woods. I revel in this secret pleasure, but I'm still weary. I've only been in here exactly three times, and always with Katniss. If my father found out about this, he would never let me out of the house. I forget about that now though, as I enjoy the peaceful solitude. I've never been here alone.
Except I'm not alone. I can feel eyes on me, unfriendly ones. I tense, panicked at the thought of the peacekeepers surrounding me. However, when I snap open my eyes, I am not greeted by the cold barrel of a gun and a white uniform, but rather cold grey Seam eyes and a washed out miner's outfit. My heart continues to pound, and I think how stupid it was for me to come here, how this is his and Katniss' place, not mine, and I have no right… He's looking at me strangely and I realise he's said something. He must sense that I didn't hear him because he scoffs and glares at me.
"I said," he snaps, "What the hell are you doing here, Undersee?" I gnaw at my lip. Whatever I say, he'll still glare at me with those unforgiving eyes. Gale Hawthorne doesn't like me. Never has, never will. But that doesn't stop me liking Gale Hawthorne. I like the way he is so strong and determined. I like the way he never seems to care what other people think. I like the way his soft brown hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck, and the way he has an intense hatred for the Capitol and their rules. How he always knocks the wind out of me, making me feel like I am submerged in water, just by glancing at me. I like Gale Hawthorne a lot.
He is still standing there, waiting for an answer. He must think I'm stupid. I settle for giving him a slight shrug. He smirks.
"Shouldn't you be at some fancy Capitol dinner or something?" I feel my cheeks burning, a redness seeping across my skin. Not through embarrassment; through anger. Why did he always have to do that? Make me seem like I'm nothing but a pet of the Capitol? It's not my fault my fathers the mayor. I scowl at him, and his face shines with victory, making me even angrier.
"It's a free country, Hawthorne" I turn back to face the emeralds and ambers of the forest, and take a deep breath. Don't let him get to you. From behind me, I hear a hollow laugh.
"Except, it's not really, is it?" I automatically look around for any peacekeepers, until I remember I'm in the woods, and there's not anyone in sight. Except infuriatingly smug Hawthorne behind me. I hear him guffaw, and whirl around to face him. He raises his eyebrows and whispers,
"Stop being such a townie, Undersee, nobody's here except me and you," With that he furrows his brow again, and says normally "And I still don't know exactly why you're here" There he goes with the freaking townie stuff. It's as though he's settled on hating me, purely because I live in town. I cross my arms, my fists clenched.
"God, who do you think you are, Hawthorne? You act all high and mighty, with your insults about how 'spoilt' and 'stupid' town people are. Well, I got news for you, Hawthorne; the whole world doesn't revolve around you. Who the hell cares if you're from the Seam? That doesn't make you a better person than me. In fact," I'm almost shouting now, jabbing a finger at him, I am that angry, "at least I don't go around hating people just because of where they come from. Because, Hawthorne, you hate me, and I don't know what I've done to you, to make you hate me this much," My breaths are short and ragged, my face flushed. I bite the inside of my cheek, half regretting the words. Now I'll have to listen to a list of all my flaws. Or worse, he'll laugh and walk away. We study each other, and I brace myself to deflect whatever insult he throws at me. He turns his face to the left, and I trace his jawline, tanned and golden in the sunlight. I watch how it clenches as he grits his teeth. I look down. He must be trying not to punch me right now, I think, well done Madge.
It happens quickly. Rough callused hands gripping my shoulders, tilting up my chin. Grey eyes. Smokey eyes. Smouldering eyes. Swimming before me. The sensation of lips pressed together. Hands tangled in my hair. By the time I realise what is happening, it's over.
My lips are tingling, my breath caught in my throat. His back is to me, his muscles taut. He kissed me. Gale Hawthorne kissed me. My body is frozen with shock and thoughts are swirling in my head. He turns back round. His face shocks me. It's soft and sad. He's never soft or sad. There's a long silence, only the sounds of chirping birds in the tall trees, and our own heavy breathing. He finally moves. When he steps forward, my heart ceases to beat, and I think he is going to kiss me again. He doesn't. He grabs a piece of my messy blonde hair that's hanging in my face. He twists it around, before smoothing it back. He looks into my eyes, grey into blue, and murmurs,
"I don't hate you,"
And then he's gone, melted into the forest. His forest. I manage to stumble back under the fence, back home, and into bed. I don't sleep. I stare at the window, at the small sparks of light piercing through the velvet blue sky.
I like Gale Hawthorne. I like the way he is so strong and determined. I like the way he never seems to care what other people think. I like the way his soft brown hair curls slightly at the nape of his neck, and the way he has an intense hatred for the Capitol and their rules. How he always knocks the wind out of me, making me feel like I am submerged in water, just by glancing at me. I like the way he makes my knees weak and my lips tingle. I like that he doesn't hate me.
Gale Hawthorne doesn't like me. Never has, never will.
I like Gale Hawthorne a lot.
AN: I'm strangely proud of my Madge in this aha. Hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading, you qualify for free cookies.