I'm back! So this is more or less a filler chapter, but it has a few moments i just couldn't resist :) Thanks everyone for the favouritism and reviewing, it makes me all giddy with excitement! Btw, all the stuff in bold letters are taken from the book, and not my words. They were too good to replace... Ready? Here goes:
As the weeks pass by, I begin to doubt I will ever have another free moment, just for myself. I'm passed around from one occasion to the next, suddenly everybody's favourite. And so, it's almost a whole month until one Sunday in the early summer, I finally manage to sneak off into the woods. Hunting boots on, game bag full of food and with hope in my heart, I arrive at our old meeting place just when the sun is coming up.
I wait at least two hours. I'm beginning to think that he's given up on me in the weeks that passed. Or that he no longer cares about me, hates me even. And the idea of losing him for ever, my best friend, the only person I've ever trusted with my secrets, is so painful I can't stand it. Not on top of everything else that has happened. I can feel my eyes tearing up and my throat starting to close the way it does when I get upset.
Then I look up and he is there, three meters away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jump up and throw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combines laughing, choking and crying. He's holding me so tightly that I can't see his face, but it a really long time before he lets me go and then he doesn't have much of a choice, because I've got this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and I have to get a drink.
When the hiccups eventually subside, I sit down in the nook of the rock beside him, and we have breakfast, just like we always used to. My elbow barely brushes his as I hand him an orange, which he accepts with just a slight suspicious rise of an eyebrow. I struggle to peel one of my own, getting sticky peel all over my fingers, and look up to ask him for help. Instead, I catch him looking at me intently. I stare back, surprised. His eyes are guarded, I realise, in a way they usually are when we go about our business in town, but never out here. There's also something else there, that I can't even begin to figure out.
"You said you missed me," he states, averting his gaze to pop a slice of fruit in his mouth. "Why?"
Confused, I blink quickly a few times, not quite understanding the question.
"Well," I waver, "it was true. Still is." Obviously, I want to add, because how could I not have. Then I study him a little closer, noticing the way he still has his eyes trained on anything but me. He looks, I suppose, uncertain, which is not a common look for Gale. I puzzle over this a few more moments, my lips pursed. If I'm completely honest with myself, I think I understand what's going on here. After all, have I not felt guilty down to my core the last couple of months, ever since the Games and all this foolishness with Peeta began? In my heart, I know I've probably hurt my best friend without meaning to, by going along with the star-crossed lovers charade. And I know this because I've been lying to myself just as much as to him, by pretending to love my fellow tribute. Sure, there was never anything romantic between me and Gale, but our connection has simply always been so strong I never felt the need for that. However, that doesn't mean I wanted the possibility of us to be taken away. Besides, the bond we share with each other wouldn't really permit any intruders; it was always supposed to be just him and me. I force myself to at least try to convey this message.
"It was all a lie, you know," I croak out in a whisper, now staring down at my own, half opened orange. I have no idea if he even knows what I'm talking about, but it turns out he figures it out from just looking at me. I can feel his eyes boring in to me, not daring to meet them. I was always too easy to read, for him.
"Obviously not," he says slowly, and I flinch at the hurt in his voice. "You were never a very good actress, Katniss."
"I can be anything, if I have to," I insist quietly, but firmly. I hope he'll catch on to the full meaning of this.
He stands, and starts collecting the remains of our breakfast, packing up my bag again. I give up, tossing in the orange too for later. Suddenly I don't feel very hopeful anymore. But then he reaches out his hand to me, across the emotional void that has opened up between us, and pulls me easily to my feet.
"So what do you want to do today?" he asks lightly. His smile brings one out of me too.
"Normal stuff," I reply, sighing with relief.
We fall into out usual stride, silent but efficient, always aware of each other's movements so as not to disturb the hunt. Back in my woods, accompanied by Gale's noiseless steps only, I feel completely at ease. We don't talk much during the day, which would be fine by me, if the short conversations we do have didn't feel so strange, so forced. It's like we have to get to know each other all over again. I'm thinking it will pass though, since we've never been separated this long ever before. Given enough time, we'll be back to best friends, won't we?
Only once does he actually open up his mind to me, but then I almost wish he hadn't.
"I start work in the mines next week," is all he says, but it's enough. I nod mutely, but stare into his grey eyes where I see my own anxiety reflected. Of course, I knew this. He got his assignment almost a year ago, and once done with the threat of the reaping process, he's required to give his life to the industry of our district instead. I can't stand the thought, but I know it's useless to try and fight it.
I'm lulled into the routine of my old life as the day wears on, and by the time we start heading back to town, I feel positive about my ability to reclaim it. That illusion shatters, however, in one single moment.
As we are approaching the fence, I'm trying to convince him to accept my mothers' invitation for him and his family to come over to dinner in the evening. At first, he stubbornly declines, saying they can feed themselves just fine. I roll my eyes at him.
"Oh get over yourself for a second, Gale. She's not doing it for charity, she just wants some company, is all."
He mutters about it a little more, but seems placated by this.
"Alright, dinner at your place it is then. How very posh of us," he sniggers. I agree that it is kind of funny. Then his eyebrows mash together again.
"Will he be there?"
Crap, I hadn't even considered that. Perhaps Peeta will be there, if mother or Prim bothered to plead with him. They all get along like peas in a pod. I tell Gale as much, which earns me a quizzical look. Since I seem to be on a roll here, I decide to bring up my plan to take over the daily snare run as well. And in the midst of that, is when it happens. He takes my face in his hands, and cuts me off mid-sentence by kissing me.
I'm completely unprepared. You would think that after all the hours I've spent with Gale, I would know everything there is to know about his lips. But I haven't imagined how warm they would feel against my own. Or how those hands, which can set the most intricate of snares, can just as easily entrap me. I think I make some sort of noise in the back of my throat, and I vaguely remember my fingers, curled tightly closed, resting on his chest. Then he lets go and says, "I had to do that, at least once." And then he's gone.
I'm left in a complete state of disorder, my mind reeling and my knees trembling so bad I have to sit down. I lean against a tree for support, and try to figure out what that was all about. And more importantly, what to make of my own reaction. I wish I could say I resented him for kissing me, for breaking an invisible barrier that's existed between us until now. I never meant for that barrier to come down, but now that it has, I can't really recall why that was. All I seem to remember is the warm pressure of Gale's lips and the scent of oranges still lingering on his skin. I faintly wonder what would have happened, if I had kissed him back, and immediately feel my cheeks erupt in flames. I damn the Hunger Games all over again, for publicly making me an object of desire, thus apparently opening the floodgates to this stream of romantic drivel that I thought I could avoid for life.
With that thought comes others, concerning Peeta, and I panic a little. Who does Gale think he is, making my life infinitely more complicated with such a small action? It's irritating, really, but mostly I can't find it in me to mind, as I feel my body waking up to a millions new sensations.
I don't know how much time has passed when I finally get my act together and start off homewards. My mind is still in a blank state, repeating the same sequence over and over again, refusing to let to of the sensation that hit me like a freight train hours ago. Walking, and a lot of deep breaths, has at least calmed the shakiness of my arms and legs a bit. As I turn up the walkway to my new house, I suddenly remember about dinner with the Hawthornes, and an impulse to turn and run hits me. I scramble together my frayed nerves, however, and force myself to face it. After all, I try to reason, he might not even be there.
With another deep breath, I turn the doorknob to let myself in, calling out hello to no one in particular. I'm met with a warm, domestic atmosphere: the smells of bread and boiled meat and the background noise of plates clattering and people talking. Yup, dinner is definitely still on.
My mother comes rushing out of the kitchen to meet me, wielding a wooden spoon and oven mittens all at the same time. She looks less than happy with me, but also relieved.
"Katniss! Thank goodness you're here, we were just about to send someone out looking for you!" She bustles up to me, attempting to take my coat but finding her grip padded in heatproof materials. She sticks the spoon up my face instead, reprimanding.
"Where have you been? Gale was home hours ago, and he says he left you just outside the… well, outside!"
In the corner of my eye, I see said person emerge from the living room and instantly, I'm all flustered and slightly crazy-eyed again. Great.
"I…" I stutter, doing my best to swallow through the sudden dryness in my throat, "I stayed on a bit longer, is all. Like it there," I mutter vaguely. I really don't have a good explanation.
Mother is not impressed with this, and mutters something about it being rude to make guests wait, but bustles back towards the stove. I move to hang up my jacket and remove my boots, but can't help but register Gale is still there, eyebrows raised questioningly at me and looking rather pleased with himself. I scowl at the wall, trying to hide my reddening cheeks. The mere sight of him is apparently enough to bring back the surging in my stomach, the taste of his warm lips against mine, the slight scraping of his stubble against my cheek… And it's infuriating. Perhaps the worst part is, I'm not actually angry at him for doing it, but more at myself for wishing he'd do it again. I'll never be able to look at his lips quite the same again, that's for sure.
Then another movement registers in the brightly lit hallway, and I turn around to see Peeta walking out of the kitchen. He wears an apron sprinkled with a generous amount of flour, and has remains of it all over his hands, arms and even some on his left cheek. He looks hilarious, but I'm not in any mind to laugh right now. He and Gale are locked in a battle of glares for a second, and when he looks over at me, his eyes are only slightly less doubtful.
"Katniss," he says flatly with a nod of the head.
"Peeta," I reply, returning the gesture stiffly. This is pretty much our standard way of greeting lately, when away from cameras and intruding eyes. I can sense, more than see, Gale watching this little exchange with incredulity, eyebrows high. I desperately try to think of something more to say.
"So... been baking, have you?" Stupid, stupid, stupid. He nods.
"Your mum asked me to make dessert. Blackberry crumble." It's amazing, really, how ultimately formal our voices are, how stretched my answering smile is.
"Ah," is all I can thing to answer. Politely faking interest in baked goods is not my thing. He mutters something about washing his hands, and disappears down the hall to the downstairs bathroom. I scrunch up my face at the realisation how bad that conversation went.
"Geez," says Gale, who is still looking at me with surprise written all over his face. "Cold much?"
"Told you so," I mutter back at him, as I hear my mother calling for everyone to please sit down. Automatically, we start walking in to the kitchen in unison.
We all assemble around the table, my family, Gales family and Peeta. As it turns out, his family was invited too, but had to work late in the bakery. I end up sitting next to my best friend, directly across from my alleged lover. That was the only chair still empty when I reached the great oak table in the centre of my kitchen, after giving Prim a hug. I sigh inwardly, wondering if fate is trying to have me killed from wrecked nerves.
To distract myself from my still shaky hands, I engage in enthusiastic conversation with Gales younger brother Vick, who is sitting to my right. Who knew I had such an interest in the exact rules of playing dice? However hard I try though, I keep noticing Peetas bright blue eyes watching me from across the table, and in the back of my mind I keep track of every movement to my right, as if Gales presence is a brilliant flame, demanding attention.
Over all, dinner is a cheery occasion, and I warm up to it bit by bit. Gale is in high spirits, obviously enjoying the moment of respite and the food despite his earlier reservations. Each of us gets our share of his teasing, as he brings the laughter down on us with embarrassing stories of the past. It's all good-natured of course, but when I turn red as a beet for the fifth time from being reminded of some old demise, I decide to fight back. In allying with Rory, Vick and even their mother, we turn the whole thing back around at Gale, who protests wildly but laughs out loud all the same.
By the time Gale finds it in him to even complement Peeta on the dessert, I'm beginning to think this was a good idea after all. So when mother kindly asks if they won't please come back again next week, I wholeheartedly agree. Gales mother is hesitant, though, and her son has got that stubborn streak back in his face again.
"Oh please, this has been such a pleasure for me," begs mother, and I mentally cheer her on. "I know you would do the same, if it were Gale who had won all that money. And besides, there's really no joy in having money if we can't share them."
They can't possibly argue with that one, so it's settled. Sometimes, I think mother and I aren't so different after all. After that, the party starts to break up. Peeta, who has been mostly quiet all the time, but who seems to have enjoyed the evening all the same, says thanks and good night, and takes off the whole fifty yards across our lawn to his house. Those remaining all vote in favour of me washing the dishes since I was late, dismissing my arguments as they troop out of the kitchen to sit by the fireplace for tea.
A little while later, when I have my arms plunged elbow deep in foamy hot water, I hear them stirring again, the Hawthornes getting ready to walk back to the Seam. My mind barely registers the whisper of silent feet over floorboards. Then, I drop the slippery serving plate I was scrubbing and yelp in surprise, when suddenly, I feel a warm hand placed on my skin, in the gap where my shirt has slid up as I stretch over the sink.
"Goodnight, Catnip," whispers Gale in my ear, the sensation sending a cascade of tingles down my spine and lower.
Hyper-aware of his presence, his warmth against my back that stands out from the slight breeze coming in the window in front of me, I turn my head slowly around. His eyes are dancing, but not with smugness this time but with something softer, just for me. Whatever I see there, it makes my heart pick up a good few notches. I wet my lips to make them able to utter words again, and whisper back, "Night, Gale," with one of my eyebrows lifted slightly.
I wonder what the hell I'm doing and where the hell my hard-earned composure went, but decide it's all his fault for starting this, whatever it is, earlier today.
And so begin an entirely new kind of games, between just him and me.