A/N: Well, here we go with Chapter Three! Thank you all so much for your sweet reviews; I'm so happy to hear your feedback and to see that you're all so interested in this. It makes me smile. THGSN will be back really soon, I promise. Without further ado…


Cato liked to think that when you pissed a girl off, that it made them that much more attracted to you. It meant that they would worry about getting you off of their case, and eventually, the frustrations turn into feelings. And feelings turn into a good fuck. The Triple F. Clearly, that was not the case, because the way that Ashton had slammed that window shut was enough to send across a message even he'd understand. Stay away from me.

However, Cato didn't really pay attention to messages or signs that could or couldn't mean something. He ignored them. Avoided them like the plague. He didn't really care. Something about Ashton, who was probably blowing off her steam to Daddy or Daddy's models nine stories up, made him want to get under her skin.

Get under her skin, and then get in her pants. Yes, that was how it worked. It's how it always works, Cato. Another gust of mid-January wind caused even the great Cato Wolff to shiver, and he pulled the lousy jacket Marvel had lent him tighter across his chest.

The question now was now what? Found out who the strangely familiar girl who you'd just so happened to meet on the side of the street? Check. Gone to her father's photo studio in hopes she'd be there? Check. Gotten lucky and managed to have a conversation with her? Check. But where was he supposed to go from there? There was no way in hell he'd take his chances going in the studio and looking for her. He'd rather cut his own tongue out with a rusty implement than possibly face the wrath of Ashton's security guards.

So he resorted to sitting down on the curb off to the side of the studio's entrance. When she left for the day, she'd see him and there would be no avoiding the situation. Cato would get a conversation with Ashton. Even if it was the last thing he did.

He wasn't expecting a tiny bell to jingle, signaling that someone was walking out of the building quite that soon. Turning his head a bit, a smile spread across his face. Sure enough, there she was. Looking pissed as hell.

Things were better than Cato thought they'd be.

"Aw, did you decide that you wanted to come and keep me company?" he teased, facing back towards the road. The click of heels came towards him, and the next thing he knew, something was coming down on his head rather forcefully.

Fantastic. Ashton had just whacked him in the head with her bag. Rubbing the side of his head, he gave her a tight lipped smile. "I'm going to forget that that just happened."

"I'm not," she stated bluntly, folding her arms over her chest. Cato shrugged, his attention focusing back on the other side of the street. He could hear her behind him trying to form words in the right order, finding the right way to say what she wanted to but failing horribly. He chuckled softly.

"Do I have that much of an effect on you?" he asked. Clove looked down at him skeptically, and in response he tipped his head to the side. "You know. I've got you all riled up; now you can't even speak around me…face it. You're feeling something."

"I'm three seconds away from taking Anna Karenina out of my bag and giving you a minor concussion."

"You know Ashton, the Nile isn't just a river in Egypt," Cato said in ever the flirty manner, wiggling his eyebrows. Clove however, wasn't amused in the slightest.

"My name is Clove," she said stonily. Cato nodded.

"Right; want me to call you Cloverfield or Ashton?" he retorted. He swore that he saw that tiny hand of hers dart into her bag in search for a book that could possibly kill him, but maybe his eyes were playing tricks on him. She was still as a statue.

"What I want is for you to leave me alone, okay?" she said, turning on her heel and beginning to walk down the sidewalk. This wasn't happening. She wasn't leaving. No girl ever left. But maybe Ash-Clove wasn't like every other girl.

For God's sake, she carried Tolstoy around like it was Chapstick.

Jumping to his feet, he began to walk off after her. "Come on Clover, I just want to talk with you!" he called out.

"Not happening!" she yelled over her shoulder, not even bothering to turn around to face him. Maybe Clove would be more of a fight than he thought. Picking up the pace and sprinting up to where she was, he grabbed her shoulders and spun her around so she was now looking directly at him.

Those hazel eyes of hers had quite the murderous gleam in them. "Let go of me," she growled. Cato shook his head defiantly.

"Not until you talk to me."

"About what? The weather? The political debate? Christ, Cato, what is there to say? You're a stalker. You're a stalker and a creep and I have half a mind to call the cops on you," she said, clearly not messing around. Cato exhaled, his shoulders falling a bit.

"I'm sorry." Lie; Cato Wolff was never sorry about anything. "I just wanted to find you; there was something about you and…I couldn't shake it." Not a total lie; Clove was intriguing and he couldn't shake her. What he didn't tell her was why he wanted to find her. She sighed softly, both hands wrapping around the strap of her bag.

That was when he noticed something different. When she had hung out of the window earlier, she looked completely made up. Like a, well, model. Photoshoot ready. Now she looked the complete opposite. She was wearing no makeup, hair in a ponytail, and in fact the only possible thing that hadn't changed was her shoes. The girl seemed to love her heels. Even her cream colored Anthropologie dress-you couldn't blame him for knowing; he'd seen the tag sticking out of the back as he chased her down-was something that she must have changed into, because she most definitely didn't have it on earlier. His eyebrows furrowed together. "You look different," he blurted out.

"What do you mean?" she asked almost immediately, in such a way that he almost thought she'd taken offense by it.

"Nothing…just that earlier you didn't have that on," he pointed out. Clove shrugged.

"Dad doesn't like me wearing clothes I wear for shoots in publi-why I am I even talking to you!?" Clove screeched, shaking loose from Cato's grip and stomping off. Cato groaned, following after her once more. "Leave me alone!"

"Come on Clove, just give me a chance!" he shouted.

Clove whirled back around, the look on her face rather nasty in Cato's opinion. Such a pretty girl with such an ugly expression; it didn't work. "A chance?" she repeated, shaking her head. "No, okay, I know guys like you. The only thing you want a chance with is me in your bed."

Well, maybe Cloverfield was smarter than he thought.

She continued her little monologue. "If you think I'm out looking for a one night stand, then you must have me mistaken for someone else. I don't care for your stupid party boy ways and I don't want you near me again. Understand?" she snarled.

Cato shook his head. "One chance. I'll even pay for your coffee," he muttered quietly. The emotions flickering across her face went back and forth between confused, angry, skeptical, and reluctant. She finally huffed, pulling her bag up higher on her shoulder.

"You won't touch me-"

"Deal."

"You won't ask me for any model numbers-"

"Done."

"And so help me god, if you try anything stupid, I'll kick you so hard in the groin that your grandfather will be able to feel it."

"Got it."

"It's the coffee shop about two blocks from here," Clove said, knowing that she'd been defeated. Cato smiled smugly, holding his arm out to her. She looked up at him, glowering. He brought it back in, holding his hands up in innocence.

"Just trying to be nice."

"I don't want you to be nice; I want you to be quiet."

The entire walk to the coffee shop was silent. Way too silent for Cato's liking. He wanted to talk to this girl. He wanted to find out more about the Ashton girl that he'd met just last night under the awning of an abandoned theater and find out why the hell she kept him coming back for more. Usually girls like her that required a pretty big fight bored him, and weren't worth it. He let it go. But with Clove, he actually wanted to fight. But she knew his kind apparently. She wasn't willing to let her guard down for any reason whatsoever. So she treated him to silence. Instead, he resigned to listening to the clicking of her heels as they came down on the sidewalk in a rhythm.

By the time they reached the coffee shop, she'd all but completely left him. She swooped into the shop, making a beeline for one of the chairs in the corner by the window. He didn't question it; it was always better if she did the questioning, he figured. That way he wouldn't end up putting his foot in his mouth and getting him one step closer to a round trip to the hospital.

That was another thing. Something about this Ashton girl screamed dangerous. She wasn't just feisty. She was beyond it. She was almost violent. The way she slammed that window down. The way she'd stormed off earlier, trying to get away from him. That almost demonic look in her eyes. It was frightening. Clove wasn't some sweet little angel; she was a sarcastic, spiteful human being who was probably capable of killing him and making it look as though a bunny rabbit was the murderer. He was probably the one who needed to be concerned with protecting himself.

But he could snap her like a twig. If he needed to, he could overpower her. That gave him a glimmer of hope.

Standing over her, he raised an eyebrow at the girl who was already making herself at home in the chair and curling up. "Anything for the lady?" he asked, pointing at the line. She looked up at him, a ghost of a smile etched on her face.

"Just a vanilla latte."

Cato figured he might as well get a laugh out of the girl, so he let out a mock gasp, hand flying over his heart. "A vanilla latte? No nonfat anything? Do you know how many fattening that is?" The smile on her face grew to where just the corners of her mouth were turned up, but that was enough for Cato. "Is that all? You don't want anything else?" he asked yet again. Clove shook her head, her bottom lip captured by her teeth and gnawing on it. He winked at her before going to take his place in the fairly short line.

About the time he was three people away from the register, his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out, bringing it up to his ear without bothering to check caller ID. There wasn't much of a need to anyways; he knew who it was calling.

Marvel's voice came through the speaker. "Hey man, where you at?"

Cato looked around as though Marvel was lurking around somewhere. "Oh nowhere, just walking around the city."

"Well that's no fun." Marvel didn't sound too convinced, but Cato wasn't very concerned about it. "So listen, Peeta and I met this group of girls who are visiting the area today at lunch and they want the grand tour; I figured we could take them clubbing. Three blondes, all single, all smoking hot. You in?" he asked.

"Nah, I already had plans."

"Seriously dude? Can't you just reschedule or something? It's not every day you get three single hot blondes wanting you to take them clubbing."

"No man, I can't reschedule," Cato said through gritted teeth. Marvel sighed.

"Are you with that one girl you met the other night? The feisty one you were looking up on the Internet? Nope, don't even tell me, I know that's who you're with. Dude, what are you doing? Come on now."

"What do you mean? Do you have a problem with me hanging out with her?"

Marvel laughed into the phone. "Do you hear yourself? You're just hanging out with her? Cato, get a grip. Why are you fighting for this girl? She's not worth it, especially if she's taking this long to cave. Besides, you've got those blondes that will give you what you want without batting an eye."

"Maybe I don't want those blondes. Don't you get tired of the same old same old?"

"Dude, are you high?"

"No, but seriously. It's kind of fun having to fight to get what you want. It's just something different."

"Cato, I think you've gone crazy. Quit wasting your time with some psycho model who doesn't give two fucks about you."

"She's not psycho, man."

"Cato, listen to me, okay? If she hasn't already agreed to hop on your dick by now, she never will. Give up."

"You want me to give up," Cato repeated dumbly into the phone.

"As your best friend who is only looking out for you; yes. I do. You don't need to spend too much time chasing after a girl. Either she wants you or she doesn't. It's simple."

"Well-"

"Dude, she's a fucking model with a photographer daddy who makes probably about as much as Oprah. She's a stiff. She probably doesn't know anything other than that. She's probably still a virgin, too."

"So?"

Marvel bust out into laughter much to Cato's dismay. "So? So, she's a virgin. You don't wanna be the one to pop her cherry. That's just too much responsibility and time consuming and ultimately, a headache in the making."

"Hanging up now-"

"I mean it Cato. You're not gonna waste your time with this girl when you have your whole life to live. I'm not letting that happen."

"Goodbye, Marvel." With that, Cato disconnected the call and shoved the phone back in his pocket. He looked over at Clove, who was curled up in her chair with her nose already buried deep into Anna Karenina. Her eyes trailed up to meet his and she didn't smile, but her stony expression wasn't as cold. In fact, her features seemed to soften and relax a bit before focusing her attention back on the book.

Stop it Cato. You heard Marvel. You don't need to waste your time. But what if it isn't a waste of time?

Marvel would see. He would see that the chase was worth finally getting that Ashton girl as just another notch high upon his bedpost. And when that happened, he'd laugh in Marvel's face.


Hiding her phone in between the opened pages of Anna Karenina wasn't that hard. Cato wasn't paying her absolutely any attention; in fact he was deeply immersed into some phone conversation of his own. About thirty seconds later, Katniss' face appeared on her screen. "Hey," Clove whispered, ducking her head into her book.

Katniss stared at her as though she'd gone crazy, but didn't question it. "Did you ever shake off Romeo?" she asked. Clove groaned.

"I wish. I figure if I went with him for coffee that he'd just give up after that."

Katniss' jaw dropped a bit, and Foxy popped in from out of nowhere. "Whoa Clover, you're on a date with the dude already? Nice one, sister." Clove scowled.

"It's not a date, it's more like an 'I'm only agreeing to do this so you'll leave me alone' thing," Clove explained. Foxy and Katniss exchanged looks, Foxy turning back to the camera with a wide smile on her face.

"So like a date," she said.

"Oh my god it's not a date!" Clove wailed.

Katniss shook her head. "Okay, okay, it's not a date, we get it. But I need to tell you something before your dad comes back from his doughnut run, and you have to swear not to say anything to anyone. Not even your dad; he doesn't know we know."

"Yeah yeah yeah, I swear, I swear, now what is it?" Clove asked impatiently. Katniss took a deep breath, running her fingers through her chocolate curls before exhaling.

"The Goldens are in town."


A/N: Oh god. That can't be good. Don't you love cliffhangers? I know I do! And hmm…the three blondes Marvel and Peeta met? Wonder if they have anything to do with the Goldens, ey? Alright, well that's that for this chapter. I will see you all very soon. Until then, review pretty pretty please! They make me happy.

Also, if you don't review, book Clove will haunt you for eternity.