"I'm telling you, guys like him don't respond in jealousy. That's not how you get him to like you," he insists.
"Well what else am I supposed to do? Wrestle him to the ground and dry-hump him? Twerk into his dick? If you hadn't noticed, we women prefer to be coy and… irresistibly sexy," I reply, trying extra-hard to pull off the last part.
"Here's an idea. Call me crazy, but couldn't you go up and, I don't know, talk to him? Get his number, ask him out?"
"Please, Gale," I guffaw in a fake Capitol accent. "I am a lady. I do not ask men out."
"Of course, and the more lady-like option would be to dry-hump him?" he asks sarcastically.
"We'll call that Plan B," I respond drily.
A moment of silence, or, more accurately, a moment of deafening club music, transpires as I purposely stare at the floor in my best look of despair before he sighs and capitulates. "Fine," he mutters.
"Yes!" I shout, jumping from my seat and wrapping him in a hug.
"You just love finding new ways to piss me off, Undersee," he reasons, but the edges of his lips start curling up on the sides, because I know he loves being pissed off. "Alright, what are the rules?" he groans, cutting to the chase. That's what I have always liked about Gale; he says what he means and does it quickly. If it weren't for our mutual lack of general emotion, we wouldn't mesh so well. Of course, we also fight like angry cats, but that's good for us.
"You follow my lead. You wait for me to make the moves. You keep your hands close to or on my ass as much as possible. You dance close and act like you're trying to cop a feel at all times. But don't you dare touch my boobs or I'll stab you in your jugular with a fork. Got it?"
"Madge, I've touched your boobs before," he reminds me almost sheepishly.
"We were 14 playing 7 Minutes in Heaven and we were prepubescent and we didn't even know each other. It doesn't count. In 20 seconds, come over to me, bring me a drink, compliment me, and bring me back out to dance. Okay?"
"All I'm saying is, I should get some kind of reward for doing you this favor so graciously," he says mischievously.
"What do you want me to do, suck your dick when we go back home?" I exclaim, scaling back the volume with twice the anger in my voice.
"Hey, we can do that anywhere you want. It doesn't have to be the apartment," he returns. I just roll my eyes at his crude humor and turn on my heel. And just as I expected, he smacks my ass as I stride away from him.
"Hey, Peeta," I say in my sexiest voice once I reach him halfway across the room.
"Hi, Madge," he responds, distracted. "Have you seen Katniss?"
I peer over his shoulder, zeroing in on the girl in question, who sits alone in the corner, clutching her red Solo cup and looking skeptically around the room. "No, not recently. How have you been? It must have been forever since I last saw you," I say to change the subject, brushing his arm naturally and flashing him a smile. His eyes never leave their search around the room.
"Great, great," he intones absently, checking along the far wall for, presumably, Katniss.
Suddenly a body appears on my right, lips grazing my neck in a blind search for my ear. "Does this break any rules?" Gale whispers with two kisses to my upper jaw, his deep voice reverberating in my ear and along my skin, making me shiver.
"Oh, Gale, you scared me!" I giggle, taking the drink from him as his hand slides down my back and squeezes my butt a little. I have to admit, I liked that – a lot – and I feel my chest flush with warmth. "Peeta, you know Gale, right? We all had Calculus together in the last year of high school," I relate, ignoring the sensations pulsing through my body.
"Sure, Madge, yeah," he responds without even looking our direction. "I have to go…" he trails off, leaving us midsentence without an explanation. It's not like it was needed, anyway. He's so fixated on Katniss he might as well write it across his forehead.
My face twists a little when Gale looks at me. His hand slides from my butt into my hand and he squeezes a little. "You're okay," he says soothingly, sidling closer to me. "Peeta will realize she's not over there, turn around, and pace back here in exactly 5 seconds. When he does, be prepared for a panty-dropping kiss," he jokes, winking, and I prepare my half-hearted, last-ditch effort to get Peeta's attention. I don't let on, however, that I don't care much about getting Peeta anymore.
Gale's right hand glides effortlessly over my butt, pressing me just slightly closer to remind me of his appreciation for my tight dress. He places his drink on the table, and then takes mine out of my hand to place it next to his. His left hand moves to cradle my hip as his mouth folds into mine in a sensual French kiss. His lips move over mine slowly yet pleasingly, and all of a sudden my body hums in response. His left hand trails slowly upward from my hip, his fingers tracing over my stomach and nearly brushing over my chest before he rests his hand around my back.
All too soon, he pulls his face away from mine, and for a few lingering seconds I wish he'd stay closer. I blink, my vision bleary, confused by what I feel for Gale instead of Peeta. I curse how well he knows me, because for a second his face screws up in confusion before he smiles hesitantly at me.
I don't dare check if Peeta saw us kissing and became jealous; I almost don't care anymore. But Gale does, for my sake, and runs a hand through his hair when he sees Katniss and Peeta leaned in a corner, their faces hanging mere centimeters apart.
Gale turns to me and cautiously takes his hand away from my rear. "I told you Madge, he's just not that into you. That kind of love takes more than jealousy to distract him from Katniss."
"I know," I sigh, taking a gulp from my drink. "God, what is this, Keystone?" I murmur, cringing at the stale-tasting, low-quality beer. "It just kind of sucks, seeing him so in love with her. Are you okay about it? I mean, her falling for him and all?"
"You know I've been over Katniss for a long time. Besides, she needs somebody like him and I shouldn't be with somebody like her."
I silently agree and wonder whom he thinks he should be with while sullenly sipping on my drink. Gale watches me for a few moments and leans in to ask, "You want to get out of here?"
I look back at him for a few moments, only thinking of what that usually implies when it is asked at a club like this. But it's Gale and he's just looking out for me. I nod in response and head toward the exit.
We get to the apartment building after walking for about 15 minutes. He holds the door open for me and I turn down the hall to the elevator. "I know you just hold the door open for me so you can look at my ass," I jeer at him sarcastically.
He steps into the elevator and stomps his foot dramatically. "Damn, you've spoiled my secret!" he sighs, looking down at me with those dark grey eyes. "Would you blame me?" he asks, batting his eyelashes before leering at me.
"God, Gale, keep it in your pants!" I screech through laughter.
"Man, Peeta really doesn't know what he's missing," he comments as he presses the 15 button, his eyes scrolling all the way up to my face.
"Oh, yeah? What's that?" I chuckle, a challenge.
He smiles widely without response and looks down at the floor, shaking his head.
I decide on a whim, maybe influenced by a little bit of tequila, to ask him about his confusing comment before. "What did you mean when you said you don't think you should be with Katniss?" I ask in earnest.
He lets out a deep, slow breath and leans against the wall of the elevator. "She needs somebody to make her feel safe, to be her protector, and she finds hope in Peeta. But I need somebody who is confident enough to piss me off all the time," he says with a laugh.
I think for a few seconds about what he said, and I come to the conclusion that he's completely right. Katniss, after leading the nation in the rebellion, needs safety, and she finds that in sensitive Peeta. But Gale needs somebody to bicker with but who won't cry when he calls her a bitch for calling him an asshole. The voice in my head stutters for a second before I realize we had that same argument, and the result was our understood mutual apology about 2 minutes later when our vicious argument spiraled into silly name-calling. I turn to Gale with the "eureka" look of someone who just came to a life-altering epiphany.
"I can piss you off," I say slowly before pressing my body up against his and pulling on his neck until his lips are on mine. He is slowed by shock, but as soon as he realizes what's going on, he pulls my bottom lip between his, and my chin rises and falls to the same rhythm as his kiss. Just as he moves his face closer to deepen the kiss, I pull away just enough to separate our lips, then move up and pull his bottom lip with my teeth. I swiftly move back and then up again as if I'm going to continue kissing him, but as soon as he goes for the bait, I pull away and hold his face away from me, my chest heaving and out of breath. I can feel his anticipation and frustration like a suffocating tension, and I almost give in to my own, but I timed this perfectly and the elevator has just opened to our floor. I push off the wall, flipping my blonde locks over my shoulder as I walk down the hall.
That ought to piss him off a bit.
He follows a few seconds later when the elevator's about to close, presumably slowed by my "panty-dropping kiss," to use his words. I push the key in the lock to open up the apartment, hang them on the hook, and go to the fridge for some ice cream and beer.
I scoop out moose tracks and take the second-to-last PBR from the fridge before I slowly make my way to my room. I smile only on the inside when I see Gale in the open doorway just staring over at me.
I leave my door open just a crack while I pull my dress over my head and change into a stolen pair of Gale's boxers and one of my loose-fitting t-shirts. I am sitting crisscross-applesauce on my bed spooning moose tracks into my mouth when he pushes the door open and stands there, his face drawn over with anger.
"What the fuck?" he fumes, glaring at the spoon dangling midair.
I take a chug of my PBR in response, my eyes never leaving his.
He shifts on his feet, anger building. "You just kiss me like that out of the blue and leave me hanging? No explanation, no nothing?"
"Oh, I'm sorry," I say in mock apology, placing my hand dramatically over my heart. "Did you want me to give you that reward now for helping me with my jealousy scheme? Okay, you take off your pants while I finish this up. Hang on a sec." I take a shallow sip of beer and don't budge.
"Is this some kind of a game to you?" he yells, edging closer to the end of my bed.
"I don't recall pulling out the Monopoly board and paper money," I fire back, matching his fiery glare.
"Cut the shit, Madge. If you're just going to play around with me, kiss me when you feel like it, let me get handsy when you need it, then I don't see why I bother with you," he screams, throwing his hands around as if the gestures help to accomplish his point.
"What happened to the 'Peeta doesn't know what he's missing' stuff, huh? You get all cute and romantic and shit and now all of a sudden what I'm doing doesn't cut it? It gets tough with me and you think it's okay to just back off and let it be? You can't just keep me at arm's length forever incase I hurt you. News flash: if I wanted to, I would have a long time ago."
"See, that's just it! You and me, we're the same. You tell me I can't constantly be the romantic who's always there but you're the exact same way. You can't stand to tell people how you really feel or let anybody see you emote because you're so caught up in your self-doubt pity party that you're completely incapable of love or feelings. You know how I know that? Because I don't have any emotions, either. We're practically the same person. The only reason you don't like that about me is because you're in the same boat, sweetheart."
"Don't you dare 'sweetheart' me!" I yell, my ice cream and PBR flung on the dresser as I spring up from my bed. "I don't handle emotions openly because I'm introverted. You don't handle them because of all the shit you have going on in your messed up life that you can't figure out."
"Oh, my life is messed up? How about you? You date but don't let anybody get close enough to see any of the real you. You don't want to be loved because you don't think you deserve it. Sound accurate yet?"
"Shut up," I growl, feeling my fingers tingle.
"You try so hard to find somebody who will love you but you end up not wanting to be loved because you don't think anybody should. You want to know why? Because your parents never loved you!" he finishes, the room, the apartment, and, it seems, the entire world going silent.
My mouth clamps shut but my tired eyes just rest on Gale's horrified face. I don't even feel the sting from his venomous words. After all, he's not wrong.
"Oh my God, Madge, I did not mean that," he murmurs, unsure if he should hug me or stay away.
"I know," I smile weakly, because he really doesn't mean to hurt me. "You're right but you didn't mean it."
"Are you tired of arguing yet? Because I'm done being pissed off for now," he smirks.
"You bastard," I say in monotone with a smile creeping over my lips. "Yeah, I'm good."