He has always stood out from a crowd. Always caught my attention. You know those people who catch your eye about ten times a day? He's one of those people. I've caught myself staring before. Too often, actually. He is extremely attractive. Dark brown hair, olive skin, grey eyes that always seemed to fighting to hide true emotions. His features are unforgettable, imprinted on my memory for as long as I live and longer. We haven't really spoken, just a "Hi" or a nod of the head if we pass each other in the street. We don't have many chances to talk if I'm honest. He lives in the Seam, and I live in the merchant side of town. He's older than me, by about two years, I think, anyways. Although we're in the same class, we aren't near each other and can't talk. His mother and he are the sole providers for the three other members of his family. He hunts game in the meadow and woods and sells or trades it, while his mother washes the towns, though mainly the merchants, clothes. He only really has one friend, a girl my age. She looks like they could be related, cousins or something like that. They hunt together. I'm not sure how it happened. Probably just a random meeting that's thrown them together and made them near inseparable. I think I know the girl somehow. Probably from when I was younger or something. I shouldn't think like this, I know, but I can't help myself.
I'm in love with Gale Hawthorne.

He's looking at me again. No, looking is the wrong word. Staring is better. This is about the fourth time I've looked up and caught him this week, with just having enough time to see his eyes flit away. He always does it. I don't know what to think about it if I'm honest. He's about my height, if not taller, he has a strong build, and a defined jaw. He has blonde hair that flops into his blue eyes. It's not a wonder the girls are all over him. I find it quite amusing that he has no idea that most of the girls in his year and above are crazy about him. It surprises me that I've paid so much attention to his details that I normally wouldn't have with anyone. Well, anyone but Katniss. But that's not the point. He's confused me greatly with his staring and watching, even if the two are basically the same. Sometimes it keeps me awake at night, making me even more confused than I was the day before. Sometimes when I look up, he doesn't notice, he's so stuck in that world of his own, and I can look into his eyes. They're like chips of the purest ice, so blue and intense; looking into them is like looking into my own soul. I shake myself. What am I thinking? I berate myself. Stop. Now.
As the day goes on, I find myself thinking only one thing.
Why am I paying so much attention to Peeta Mellark?

As I catch myself staring again, I notice that he's watching me, unaware that I know. His gaze is so intense, it's like he's staring, straight through me, as if he can read me like a book. As if he knows everything about me. He looks almost ... Awestruck. It takes my breath away. I look down at the floor, ashamed for being so obvious. When I next glance up, he's doing exactly the same as I was. Shaking his head slightly, staring at the floor, re-enforcing his control, I'm guessing. He looks up and I quickly look away. Damn it! I think. Can't you help yourself, Mellark? I mentally shake my head and shrug. I guess not. I look up once more and see he's heading towards me. I panic inside, whilst trying to appear calm on the surface.
"Peeta," he greets me.
"Gale," I murmur, wondering why he chose today to speak to me.
"Did you catch the second half of the lecture we were given today?" I shrug noncommittally.
"Bit. Why?" I ask.
"I didn't take it in. Could you explain it to me?" What's he playing at? We've had this lecture about five times in two months! I give a small nod.
"Sure, I'm sure I can brief you it," He smiles. A real, breathtaking, smile.
"Great, you think you could meet me on the edge of the meadow on Sunday?" I nod.
"See you then, I guess," I turn away and walk home.
What was that about?

I'm in my kitchen. This meeting with Peeta will give me a chance to figure him out. It'll put my mind at rest. And I'll feel less awkward around him. I have to go tell Katniss that I can't do Sunday. God,
she'll kill me. I groan and start towards her house.
_