I sit on the end of my comfy bed the Olympic Competitors provided in the hotel room, perplexed. Last night was amazing, after I got over all the childish thoughts. Thinking I was going to drop it, or that the flames would catch or that I'd fall! What would the Careers think if they knew I was thinking those things? Weakling. That's what I would be labelled as, and I cannot afford to be seen as that, especially not in my event.

Oh, god. My event, the Heptathlon . . . it starts in less than three days, and I am less then prepared for it. I glance at the slip of paper Effie Trinket (my supervisor, because Finnick can never get anywhere on time) left me on the wooden table with the Olympic rings carved into. I skimmed over it until it caught my eye; 'Competitors for the Heptathlon'. There were a fair few including some of the best who I knew from watching the Olympics myself have won before:

Enobaria Williams

Johanna Mason

Clove Campbell

Finch Taylor

These being the only competitors I know, there are obviously many others like me who are going in for the first time. Being my first time, I intend to win, therefore making myself unforgettable. Next year, I hope to be on that list of names. Wait, not I hope, I know. Because, I have to. Everyone's relying on me, I can't let them down.

Also, my little sister Prim will be in the audience, and because she has been in care ever since my father died in an earthquake a few years back, because she had not only lost a father, but a mother too, as my mother had to be taken in a mental hospital – she had sever depression. I know it's not my mother's fault, but I can't help a little ugly part of me hate her for not being strong enough, because I have had to act as a second mother to Prim ever since. Not that I'm complaining, it gave me the edge and determination I need for the Heptathlon.

Slowly, I get dressed into my tracksuit provided by the support foundation Finnick and Effie managed to get to sponsor me, so now I have tracksuits and jumpers and racing flats and even water bottles with the logo of a shell, which apparently is a gas station.

I hear a knock at the door and groan.

"What?" I shout.

I expect it to be Effie, Finnick or even Peeta but it's not.

It's Gale Hawthorne. He stands, tall and proud with dark, thick hair, muscled arms that you can see, even with the tight top that covers his arms he's wearing. His long eyelashes look me up and down, as if he was analyzing me. Well, I guess I'm kind of doing the same. I mean, even I admit he's sort of good looking. Bit more than sort of, actually.

I gulp. The last time I saw him . . . well, let's just say we were a bit more then friendly. He was my first kiss, if I remember correctly and it all happened about three years ago in an athletics camp in Miami.

"Come on, Gale!" I laugh as he tries to catch me up, but he doesn't. He's always been more of a javelin thrower, not a runner, like me.

"Come off it, Katniss. You know I can't win!" But he's grinning. The sun is shining, he broke his PB (personal best) of throwing a javelin to the staggering distance of 70.0m, and everyone feels great.

After we finish the lap, we head behind the shed where all the hurdles are kept, and just lay breathless in the sun.

"You know what Katniss," Gale says, still trying to catch his breath. "We could make it, you and I. The Olympics. . . Think about it, the honour, and the excitement! We'd be famous! "

I look down at him, hesitant. I'd always been aiming for the World Championships, and he knows this..

"I don't know Gale. . .I'm good, but I'm not Olympics good!" I grimace.

Gale scoffs. "Yeah, right. Who did 100m in less then 12 seconds? Who threw the javelin almost as far as I threw mine?"

I smile. I always do with Gale.

"Yeah, but. . ." Gale cuts me off by leaning in. At first I'm unsure what he's doing until his soft lips touch mine.

I liked the taste, so I didn't stop him. But things were never the same since, and I didn't see him after that.

Until now.

He's here. We both are. . .and I realize we both achieved what we both said we could and would in that Miami athletics camp. We're in the Olympics. And that's when it really hits me, that it's not another heat, not another small mediocre competition but the actually thing. You can't get bigger than the Olympics, and I am in it. And so is Gale. And Peeta. Well, to be precise Peeta is in the Paralympics as he has a fake leg.

All of this floods through my mind as I see my handsome friend, ex, whatever.

"Gale!" I shriek, and run to hug him.

"Hey." He murmurs into my shoulder. He lifts me up and spins me around, and I giggle like a teenager. Which I am, I guess, although I've always had to act like I'm older.

"I can't believe we're both here!" I gasp.

"I can." Says Gale. "I always knew we could do it."

We hug again, this time for longer. To remember of all the old times, ha.

But just then, Peeta comes in.

"Katniss I have some new trainers you might like. . .oh," He sees me embracing Gale. "I'm sorry. . ." He looks confused and walks out, the pain on his face evident.

"Boyfriend?" Asks Gale, smirking.

I smack him playfully, but on the inside I'm hurting for Peeta because I know how confused and upset he must be, but nothing happened, so I'll just explain it to him.

I smile at Gale, but think again of the looming event ahead of me, and my smile falters. . .

A/N; I'm sorry I haven't updated in ages, but I will from now on. Please feel free to leave suggestions for what tribute should be put in what events etc..

Thank you, review pleaseeee