Important Note: I rewrote the last part of chapter 12. I did it because I HAD to. And of course I had to edit a few (and I mean really, really few) things with chapter 13.

And here's chapter 14 for all y'all.

"Why are you here?"

Katniss threw daggers with cold, gray eyes. The girl last night wasn't there anymore— that fragile thing that had shown fear and tears for the first time. In front of him was the District 12 Volunteer who never showed an ounce of vulnerability. It was the girl whose fighting spirit was one in a million.

Putting the cup down, Cato gave her a toothy grin. "I could ask you the same question. When I got back from my work out you were gone from my bed." he stressed his last two words, choosing to disregard Peeta's undeniable uneasiness with his presence. He took a piece of ham to his mouth and continued to speak, "When we snuggled last night I thought we became friends. And there I was standing alone and I had to find you and the first guess from my gut led me here—to your breakfast date with Baker Boy." His words were laced with sarcastic jealousy.

The prominent arch of her right brow exhibited her suspicion at what he said. "Are you following me?"

"Don't flatter yourself. I'm just really hurt that you decided to hate me again today. " He blurted out hastily, his visage torn between being annoyed and being amused. Taking another bite, he poked at her patience for the nth time and eyed her with a hint of his signature mischievousness as he ate breakfast.

Realizing that a staring contest was in the works for the second time around, he fixed his gaze upon her to see who would win. He knew he could do it because he always won. He wasn't going to lose his concentration—not even the pout she doesn't know she has on her lips that can be considered as borderline adorable. And yet it was at that thought he felt his luck dissipate elsewhere.

A strong breeze blew the curly tendrils away from her face, shortly hiding her curious, slightly agitated usual expression. The unique color staring at him from half-hidden eyes, stood in contrast with the lush hue of her wavy dark hair. He saw again the roundness of her irises and its shocking cold to the warm color of her skin and the light crimson-rouge of her mouth. On the bridge of her nose, he spotted a patch of ginger freckles that stretched thinly to the apples of her cheeks that were still flushed to the heat of the hot chocolate he stole.

Cato felt his mind do a double take that he always sees something new about her every single time he looks in her direction because he found himself losing his trail of thought.

So this is what she looks like when she wakes up in the morning.

It was kind of angry cute in a breath-taking sort of way.

"Ahem."

Two heads shot up at Peeta's direction. The boy was dusting off non-existent dust from his pants simultaneously lifting himself off the floor. He had steadied himself in an awkward position. "Katniss, I think I should be going."

"Peeta—"

"Then go." Cato interrupted whatever she was supposed to say. He watched him grow angry in a manner that was pathetic. If one could call a curling of fists and a friendly version of a glare, angry. Almost automatically, he sized him up—and Cato could tell his immediate weaknesses. His legs were weak for one, his core obviously so. No agility, no endurance, no leg power, no speed—just strength, in which he knew he can easily beat.

Turning back to Katniss, he watched as she followed Baker Boy's steps out the balcony. He might have felt his jaw tighten a little and a pang of immense irritation, but it was one of those moments that he knew he can take advantage of.

"Baker Boy, wait up."

The smaller boy stilled and faced him. His face was an epitome of blankness.

"So, you're aware of Katniss being my girlfriend and all, but me being a newbie with these kinds of relationships, I need some kind of advice." He paused for a moment and gauged Peeta's reaction. But there was none. He had smirked inwardly at that. "What I mean to say is, if you were in my position and Katniss was your girlfriend, what would you do?"

Cato saw him think about it hesitantly. "Why would I tell you?"

He rolled his eyes. "Because I can think of many other things that I know anyone wouldn't approve of—if you understand what I'm trying to say."

Peeta grunted and stomped a step forward. "D-don't you dare lay a finger—"

"Cool it. I'm not gonna rape her." He raised an eyebrow. If something did happen between him and Katniss it wouldn't be that. What they did when they played hooky for the first time was an experience he knew she will never, ever forget. He had let the game escalate to that point to letting Katniss open herself up to him in ways that she will agree and willingly concede to—back then, and of course, maybe eventually.

Cato immersed himself in his thoughts, suspended in animation at the vivid images that flashed in his mind, completely unaware of the rage that Peeta was channeling. His fingers were curled tight, and he responded with gritted teeth. "J-just take her out on a date...But right now, what's more important is to protect her during the Games. Not using her for more sponsors for you."

Before Cato could retort, Baker Boy had successfully stomped away and the Balcony doors were already closed shut.

He'll deal with him soon enough. Then again, Baker Boy wasn't not helpful. Far from it.

"Hey Katniss. A date is a fucking brilliant idea—" he said to her, turning his head back, only to find that she was already gathering in her hands all the empty plates and mugs. He scratched at his hair because she probably didn't hear any of it. Frustrated, he just helped her but instead of being rewarded by even an acknowledgment, she hissed and swatted his hands away. Flaring up, he decided to tick her off just a bit and he grabbed the pot—which was the only thing she hasn't taken hold of yet.

"Can't you just leave?" Her voice was hoarse.

"I can leave, but I won't. Not until I carry this pot to the sink. Plus, we need to discuss our date."

Katniss eyed him for a second and Cato let her lead the way. In no time, they reached the kitchen and she was placing all the things in running water. Dropping a few drops of soap into a filled division of the sink, he observed the suds that formed and her hands squeezing the sponge in that same area. Scrubbing the large plate with the soapy water, she put it on the other division of the sink for rinsing. He offered his services once again which he predicts will inevitably lead to a rejection.

"Need any help?"

Without even looking at him, Katniss shook her head. But nevertheless, he started to wash all the soap from the plates, the mugs, and the pot while Katniss dried them off when he was done doing them. They worked in silence, in such a way that he would consider efficient. Positioning the plate to its rightful place, she also put the mugs in their respective holders. Cato watched her complete the chore even as she tiptoed to reach the cupboard just to return the pot.

He chuckled silently at the sight and decided to approach her.

Her lean torso was stretched to prevent the pot from falling, the tips of her fingers on the right hand pushing at the round container to get it inside. Katniss balanced herself with one hand palmed on the marble surface of the counter while she kept herself from falling with all her weight dependent on her toes. Satisfied with what she's done, her heels descended to the flat surface.

"Nice work." His voice had come out lower as he neared her.

At the sound of his voice, Katniss whipped around and Cato had taken advantage of the surprise to corner her on to the counter. He placed his arms at her sides, his chest almost pressed against hers. The meager space allowed him a thrill of excitement to run through his spine. Dipping down, his lips moved on its own—in a split second—and silenced any protests to a kiss. His mouth had moved softly on her shocked, quivering lips.

From that momentary contact, she had frozen up like a statue—rigid and unmoving. It was only when he pulled away that an overwhelming flash of anger was seen in her eyes. Preventing any rough play, Cato immediately grabbed the small fists aimed at his chest. "Easy there."

Katniss struggled against him, fruitlessly attempting to push him away. "What's your problem?"

Problem? She thinks that 'that' was to infuriate her?

"Nothing. I just thought about what I said yesterday morning about you kissing me when you see me, and I kind of realized that it's better if I also do the same you." The words just came out almost robotically. Why was he lying?

"And, how is that better?" She snapped.

Cato raised an eyebrow playfully to make her see his glaringly obvious point. "Because you don't have to do all the work and you get to be kissed by me—anytime, anywhere."

He caught the rolling of eyes and released her. A grin instinctively tugged at the corners of his lips. Katniss was being hardheaded, apart from being unable to react properly when he flirted. Not that she was a glad recipient of anything he had said to her before that was laced with a lot of innuendo, nor was she the still the grateful used-to-be-damsel-in-distress to show she was eternally thankful for saving her. Cato forgot that in her experience with boys, he was the only one—and he wasn't like any other boy. He will make her remember that.

Katniss had crossed her arms and he took it as a cue to back off and leave. Taking a few steps back, Cato waved, just hiding the plotting smirk when he left.

"Well, see ya. Do well in your evaluations later."

Thank you for your consideration.

That was what she said. Shooting the apple straight from the pig's mouth had rendered the Gamemakers stunned. Attacking them had been a spur of the moment decision, but she didn't entertain any ounce of regret. They got what they deserved. Maybe it was frustrating to miss the first shot, but getting a bull's eye the second time deserved recognition.

But they had ignored her. They had ignored the perfect shot, satisfied with her failure of a first impression.

Effie had told her to be charming, but Haymitch knew that she doesn't have the stomach to stoop so low although it was necessary. And Haymitch was right. Although she couldn't have cared less what the bastards thought of her, this evaluation can help her get back home. The score meant a lot of things—more sponsors and their money. When she had fired the first arrow, the immense pressure was on her shoulders and because of that, she missed. But the second shot was a victory and not one bothered to look in her direction.

The third shot was rage. An arrow piercing through the apple to the wall while the judges laughed around the roasted pig was anger. But nevertheless, it dawned upon Katniss that because of that one arrow, it could jeopardize everything.

She had burst into the suite, walking briskly past all of them and locked herself inside her room. It was 6 pm according to the clock at her bedside table, but she had no plans to get out until the scores were about to be announced. She had two hours to herself—two hours to think that if anything changed because of the low score she was going to get, then the deal with Cato would absolutely be useless. The Capitol wanted a love story, they already got one. But no matter how much that fake relationship skyrocketed their popularity or rather, their notoriety, it will not hide the fact that if she got a fluke for a score she will have a hard time regaining back lost sponsors.

Tearing off the elastic from her hair, she dove into the sheets and let sleep take her.

There was no use thinking about it now. If things take a turn for the worst, she will have to rely on her skills alone.

Haymitch swung his arms with a bottle in hand. The usually drunk man was still sober, trying to push Effie to the other side of the couch. The Capitol woman sneered and had scooted away from him like a plague. Katniss watched as the stylists plopped themselves excitedly on the carpeted floor, sitting down with large pillows on their laps. She eyed Peeta on a chair by himself at the side of the television while she sat across him on the other chair.

But she couldn't understand why Cato was here with them.

He stood at the back of the couch—behind her mentor and Effie. Cato was leaned forward, his elbows resting on the top of the piece of furniture. He had been talking to Haymitch in inaudible murmurs and their exchange could barely be heard by anyone.

Katniss had to look back twice to make sure if Cato really was there or her grogginess had been playing tricks in her mind. And in doing that, their eyes had met more than once and he gave her a wink every single time.

She shifted in her seat and made sure that she leaned on the plush arm rest, her legs tucked under. Her body was positioned that it sat facing the television and her back was the only part of her that can be seen where Cato was. It grated on her nerves that he was here for the second time today.

"Good evening, good evening, people of the Capitol!" Caesar Flickerman cheered in his seat. His familiar glittery blue background had the stylists on the floor gleefully applause.

"Tonight, we are on to the training scores each earned by our Tributes during their evaluations earlier this afternoon. Now, as you know, these scores are a large determinant of their standing in the Games. But many of you are aware that there have been a lot of times that these scores are not what they seem to be, but rather surprise us during the Games. What about now? Will it be any different? We'll find that out soon enough. Let's begin shall we?" The host was handed a sealed envelope for the first tribute.

A slight intake of breath echoed in the now silent ambiance. All attention was on the TV. The people in the room sat up in anxiety—but not her. Though her eyes were open, she looked down at her knuckles, listening to the host's voice.

"District 1. Marvel Miller. 5…Glimmer Allen. 9." She instinctively shook her head when she heard Cato chuckle.

"District 2."

Katniss peeked at Cato still leaning over the couch albeit his face was serious and immensely concentrated on the screen. His elbows were buried deep in the softness of the couch, and his posture was too strained to be described as comfortable. The veins on his arms were bulging from his flesh as his knuckles were curled tight.

"Cato Lindgren…10."

Octavia, Flavius, and Venia jumped at his score—clapping wildly at the number flashed on the screen. Effie had congratulated him but he only gave a curt nod in thanks. The District 2 tribute had pumped his fist as if in victory, but not saying anything else. She didn't find the usual arrogance that usually came with him but rather a self-knowing smirk that she knew in any other day wouldn't be enough to reinforce his big ego.

When Haymitch was able to shut them all up, it was Rue's turn.

"And last but not the least, District 12." Caesar had a tone of finality and it stole all the attention of the anticipating audience. The thumping of her heart had reached her ears, as well as a sudden chill that licked her spine.

"Peeta Mellark…8."

Effie had stood, almost falling in her heels, ecstatic with his training score. The ridiculous dress she was wearing bounced with every frigid movement that she was attempting to make. Her hands were on her cheeks unbelieving at the good score given by the Gamemakers. "Oh! Oh my! Peeta, congratulations! A tremendous surprise indeed."

Peeta had accepted her praise in a manner of embarrassment and shyness. He only shook his hair at being the center of attention. When he had managed to squeak out a thanks, the trio of stylists had hugged him. They resumed their boisterous noise up until Katniss' face was shown.

She took a deep breath. This was the moment of truth. Caesar Flickerman had flipped the top of the envelope and took out her score card. "Katniss Everdeen…"

"11."

The announcement incited a unanimous gasp at the highest score among the Tributes. Mouths were left gaping at the number that told everyone that Katniss Everdeen was the best bet and the Tribute that would most likely win. Never in history that a District 12 Tribute ranked that high and most especially now when even before the Training begun, people have placed their money and the best odds of winning, of all the Tributes—on Cato.

She didn't expect this result. No one would have. The stunt with the pig had been the deal breaker.

Katniss didn't notice the people around her were already screaming. She had not even paid any mind to the pesky presence that stood in front of her chair. And before she knew what was happening, her body was hoisted up from where she sat, her legs hanging in the air as Cato pulled her into a strong embrace. Her face was buried at the crook of his neck, unable to speak up.

"Congrats." He chuckled into her ear. Cato pacified her struggle and held her tight. She felt the tickling sensation of his breath on her hair.

"Your drunk mentor allowed me to kidnap you. So I am...Right now."

With a sweeping motion, Katniss was flung over his shoulder and she was too confused to scream. Taking her shoes with them, Cato had ran out the door as fast as he could.

You know what to do. :D