Hey guys! Okay so I've been reading and writing Fanfics for a couple years now, but I've never posted. So like, this is my first (!) official fanfic. I'm super excited and a big sucker for details and FLUFF. Rated T 'cuz it's, you know, the Hunger Games, and because I'm a paranoid writer. So read, enjoy, and REVIEW!

Read on, my lovelies!

Oh, and I do not (unfortunately, curse you my beloved Suzanne Collins) own THG

~Jenna:)

We Learned to be Okay

ONE

The light tapping on the window wakes me. I blindly look around, adjusting to the pale darkness that falls over my room. On the other side of the wall, outside the frosted glass, is the face of my best friend, Caleb. His breath fogs up the clouded glass as his finger raps the windowsill. I get up and pad over to the moonlight, the cold wood underneath my feet causing me to shiver.

Lifting up the window, I shake from the unforgiving breeze, sliding down my chest and biting my body. I look at him, perched quite ungracefully on a branch.

"Hey," smiles Caleb, his eyes glinting in the moonlight. "I was hoping you'd be up."

I roll my eyes. "Which I clearly wasn't until you woke me up," I retort, rubbing my eyes.

His laugh breaks through the freezing air. "Yeah, sorry about that," he scratches the back of his head. "I was wondering if you'd take a walk with me."

I glance at the glowing numbers on my bedside table and just look at him.

"Caleb, it's three in the morning."

He merely shrugs this off.

"I have to get up tomorrow, Or's coming tomorrow on the train, remember?" But I know perfectly well that he knows. Which was why I suspected Oriole to be the root of the cause. Caleb never got up before the burning sun was high in the sky.

"Well, the moon is full, and the airs got a nice, refreshing feel to it. So I went for a stroll, and figured it would be better with you along for the ride," his signature boyish grin plays across his perfectly shaped face.

I hate how easily I caved to that damn smile.

In response, I tiptoe over to my dresser, grab my fleece and pulled it over my undershirt, zip up my mothers worn leather jacket over it, and pull on cargo pants over my shorts.

Caleb leans on the windowsill with his elbows, and quietly whistles his familiar tune. A six note series of eerily beautiful sounds.

I look at him as I pull on my boots, motioning for him to climb down so I could follow suit.

Jumping down from the old oak tree, my feet crunch on the slightly frozen grass, not yet covered in snow.

I follow Caleb around the house and across the field to the forest. He carries a red lantern, the candlelight swaying in his left hand. I walk two steps behind him, trying to keep up with his long strides. He looked behind him once, smiling at me as he slowed down, matching my habit-forced hunters stalk. Before we reach the edge of the forest, he stops abruptly, and looks up. I follow his gaze, and lean back in awe of the sight.

The sky is a dark pool of glistening stars, slightly tinged blue with the promising early morning. The moon, still high and huge, shines like a bright flashlight in the dark. It glows, really. Its a breathtaking and eerie sight.

Shaking me out of my gaze, Caleb grabs my hand, and leads me through the frozen chain link fence, bending under the opening. He leads me through the wall of trees, never letting go of my hand. I look around the tall, dark shadows, the light of the moon peeking through the dark puzzle of branches. I wonder if he's even a bit scared. I know I sort of am. The light chirping of grasshoppers and chiming breeze whistling through the treetops form a song. Twigs snap under our feet, almost rhythmically, unlike when we're hunting, in which case our skilled footwork wouldn't make a sound to scare off game.

I suddenly wonder where he's taking me. He hasn't said a word; but when I think about it, he doesn't really have to. It's not an uncomfortable silence. It's one we've gotten used to over the years of hunting and going on adventures. I actually sometimes prefer it to talking.

We finally reach the lake, passing the old house my father used to call our hideout. And I thought the sky was beautiful.

My breathing hitches. The lake is as still as the sky, reflecting its glimmering dotted coating. Only it enhances the view, enlarging the white pinpricks into wavy stokes of light reflecting off the surface. Instead of the soft muted darkness of the atmosphere, the lakes water is deep and blackish blue, giving its viewer the impression that it is darker and deeper than any ocean could dream to be. It gives off a soft sound; I don't know how to describe it. It's not like running water or ripples, more like the flat surface of the water is singing with the slight breeze that momentarily disturbs it's stillness into setting entirely different, a wave of stars and indescribable colours.

Caleb's long fingers entwine with my cold ones. I don't even bother to glance down. I don't really feel it's a romantic gesture, more of a reaction the the beauty in front of us, a silent comment.

I slowly tilt my head, and suddenly see his big grey eyes in my peripheral vision. I turn my head to find his shining eyes gazing into mine, a serious expression on my face, and I frown in uncertainty. He never looks this serious, even after killing am animal as he approaches it's body with unbelievable gentleness.

He steps sideways and sets the lantern on the ground beside us, and returns to face me, his hand still holding onto mine, now like a lifeline, grasping my hand so tightly the blood begins to flow again.

The orange haze from the flickering candle below illuminates the sharpest angles of his face, dramatizing his looks. Under the bridge of his nose, the cave of his cheekbones, his jawline, his deep eyes under his brow.

His dark eyelashes flutter over his glassy eyes and his lips slightly curve, ever so tiny, into a sad smile.

There has never been anything romantic between Caleb and I. Ever. Sure, when I first became aware of boys looks, he was the first to hit my young mind, but it never really went anywhere. Caleb Hawthorne was an object of longing for most of the girls at school, but I was used to their jealous and confused glares at me when I walked the halls with my best friend, as he was two years ahead of me. Fifteen and seventeen.

He was practically my brother. We told each other everything, and I mean everything. There were no secrets between us, whether it be insecurities or personal. We were also inseparable, he spent so much time at my house it was practically his. Cale was my best friend, and I loved him. More than anything, besides my family. If I were to lose him, at any cause, it's be like losing myself. So I never understood the mixed signals I had been receiving the last few months. I had told myself that it was just a phase.

But now... I'm not so sure that friendship was the only thing coursing between us.

I stare back into his eyes. I cant decipher what lies beneath them.

"Lavianna."

He whispers-no, breathes my name so quietly that if you weren't paying attention, it could have been part of the breeze.

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. I probably look like a lost puppy with my big green eyes. He lifts his hand and ever so lightly, his finger presses between my brow, softening my expression.

His finger slides across my brow, down the side of my face and brushes my lips, then cups my chin. I shiver. His other hand slides up my frozen arm and holds the inside of my jacked, snaking along my back and pulled me a bit closer so that our noses nearly touch.

His warm breath tickles my nose and I look up at him without daring to move my head. The hand behind my back leaves and rustles up to caress the back of my neck. A chill runs through me and I close my eyes.

I'm so numb with unease and confusion, I'm frozen.

When I open my eyes, his are staring at mine, with so much intensity. What is the look in his eyes? Love? Hunger?

Both his hands are now holding my neck. He closes his eyes and lifts his head to brush his warm lips on my cold forehead. He never opens them as he brings them right in front of mine, breathing my air, I focus on the oxygen in my lungs, to let it out, in, out. I let out an unsteady breath and part my lips. He hesitates and closes the distance between our mouths.

When his lips lightly touches mine, I can't help but think about how surprisingly soft they are. He lingers there, and it tastes sweet and cold, like a winter mornings fresh air. He pulls back for a second, but I don't see his face, my eyes seem to be glued shut.

Then I feel his lips again. Slightly harder than the last butterfly kiss, and he moves his head to tilt to the other side. I inhale deeply through my nose and try to make sense of it all as he continues to kiss me. I bring my hands up to his chest and halfheartedly try to push him away, but he only pulls me closer.

I don't know what to do all I can think about is his lips and...he's kissing me. It's feels so impossibly amazing...but he's...his hand moves to entwine in my dark hair, and I can't think..not to think. Try to make...but.

Then I do the most impossible thing in the world. My lips move slightly. I kiss him back. Caleb Hawthorne. My best friend. Kiss. I can't. But.

I lose myself after what seems to be ages, but probably only a few minutes.

Suddenly he breaks and centimetres from my lips, his warm breath whispers.

"I'm in love with you, Lav."

I'm frozen.