a/n; I know I haven't been review replying, but I read and adore all of them. One in particular made me start to think about Katniss' POV, and while I began this story with strictly Gale's POV in mind and wanted to do a complete story with his perspective alone, I thought giving a look into Katniss' perspective really wouldn't hurt. Why not? So most of it is Katniss, with some repeated scenes from previous chapters, but the rest of it is Gale's.
And I believe this concludes the story. I hope you all enjoy.
fourteen - the winner
It's a Saturday morning, and Katniss is sitting in the forest. It's a slow kind of morning, where the dew takes its time leaving its home in the grasses, where the world wakes up carefully and gently, quiet and hushed. The sun peeks over the horizon, and Katniss watches it, twisting strands of grass together and feeling strangely...
Full.
She thinks back to when she first started entering the forest-this slow, steady morning pulls out her nostalgia for the place. It cradles her heart like a home.
She thinks about running into Gale for the first time, as ornery and dyspeptic as she was, and how puckish and arrogant he was. How they clashed and disliked one another.
She frowns. Perhaps dislike is too simple a word for how they saw each other and how they felt. She had believed that he was too confident in his ability to make her trust him. She did her best to break down his confidence, and his pride, and the smirk that used to drive her up the wall with ire.
It still drives her a bit crazy, though it's a much different kind of crazy now. She imagines the dimple that is coaxed onto his cheek when he pulls out that scheming, mischievous smirk, how devilish it turns him, and how she likes it much more than the serious visage that is always too prevalent.
She realizes that she's smiling and shakes her head to stop being so girly.
She tries to remember when it stopped causing a rapid fire of rage down her spine and into a warm, curling burn in her stomach. It's an impossible task, it seems. When did she finally swallow all that pride and resentment she had and accept her trust in him?
She racks her brain, running her mind over memories, big and small. She nearly gives herself a headache and gives it all up when a peculiar realization hits her.
Maybe... She grimaces. Maybe it all started with that stupid child's game.
"I dare you to…" He struggles for a moment, his eyes darting away and then back to her face. "Smile."
"Smile?" she splutters.
"Yeah," he shrugs. "You're what, fourteen? What fourteen-year-olds never smile?"
She leans back into her heels. She feels her defenses rise immediately. He picks at her like this, pokes and prods like its a game to him. The way he looks at her, it probably is a game to him.
"Who cares?" she retorts, turning it back on him. "You never smiled."
"Sure I did," he answers easily, in that nonchalant way as he lifts one shoulder in a shrug. "You never saw them because you weren't looking for them."
She ripples with sudden indignation. He doesn't think she'd notice his smiles? Apparently, they're all the rage with the girls at school. Besides, it isn't like she doesn't pay attention. She isn't oblivious. She probably isn't at all the picture she's tried her best to paint for him-to deter him so that they can't trust each other, not here and not ever. This place is a killing ground for reliance like that.
She opens her mouth, ready to give him that exact piece of her mind, but she hesitates.
No, this isn't the time for that. This is just a stupid dare. But, still. She doesn't like what he said.
"I might not have been looking for them," she says, "but I would have seen them."
He watches her awhile, his eyes examining her face and his lips frowning in thought. Does he believe her? No, she thinks, and she hopes he doesn't-though her feelings are very contradictory, because she wants him to believe her, too, because it is in fact the truth.
He ends up with a neutral answer. "Whatever you say," he says. "So, smile."
"No."
"You'll risk losing on the first try?"
"Lose?" she splutters again. "You can lose in this game?"
"C'mon, Katniss, it wouldn't be a game if no one lost."
"This is so dumb," she mutters under her breath, the shadows the sun cast on her skin like darkening clouds.
And when she does smile for him, she's ridiculed for it.
It reminds Katniss of why she hates him. He can't even be decent, and she played by the rules.
But when she hashes out the question of why? Why do what they're doing? Why use each other in this way at all? It's half for him but mostly for her because it's been...a trial, this front she's putting up. They've been doing this for two years, and, if she's honest, he's become something of a habit.
Though that's nothing to be fearful of, she wonders if she's let any emotions in unintentionally. Habits can sometimes mislead one into a false sense of security.
He has no answer for her, in the end. And no matter how she can argue it to herself and why it would be the best for both of them to stop this partnership, she ultimately has no answer for him either.
Once she's able to come up with the reasonable answer of their families and blame it all on them the next day when they both, miraculously but unsurprisingly, show up at their spots, the smile comes out unbidden.
It means nothing. This partnership, like truth or dare, is just a game.
She turns away from him after that, and she encloses herself in shields because she will not lose.
She can't.
Katniss runs her hand through her hair, and realizes that, yes, that day is when it all began this...thing.
She sighs, then she laughs. She had been so foolish back then, a silly little teenager who hated the world and everyone in it. She hadn't believed Gale had wormed his way under her skin until much, much later.
She bites her lip. It was Peeta. It had all been because of Peeta.
Katniss is mad. Angry. Livid.
She isn't…heartless. She just…
She sighs. Gale believes exactly what she's wanted him to believe. His words shouldn't have bothered her so much. Besides, she was used to them. Why, today of all days, did it have to strike her so deeply?
To temper her anger, but to also make sure she didn't show anything out of the ordinary, she threw a rock at him.
She cringes at the thought. Needless to say, it didn't help her conflicting feelings at all. What really, really struck her, though, and she'll admit it—was the way he looked at her when he said he couldn't wait to stop seeing her so much.
This is why, she thinks, she finds herself standing in front of the bakery. She glances at her meager offerings for the day—two rabbit pelts and an emaciated squirrel—and figures that she's been doing some drastic things today. Why not keep the ball rolling?
She sucks in a breath of air and pushes through the door. She sees Peeta's blonde head behind the counter, and she tells herself this can't be as bad as she's imagining.
"Hi, Peeta," she says through her nerves.
His head jerks up, and when he sees her, he smiles. He always greets her so sweetly. She's never completely understood it.
It doesn't mean that she doesn't like it.
"Katniss," he says, glancing behind her.
"Gale not with you?"
She shakes her head. "I'm flying solo, today."
He shrugs. "His loss, then. So," he gestures. "What do you have?"
"Nothing of value," she says. She shakes her head and steps closer to the counter.
"I've actually come to...strike a different kind of bargain with you."
Peeta gives her a confused look. "Different kind?"
Katniss takes in a deep breath. "I know you...well, I think you like me."
His look quirks even more.
"And..." she continues. "I thought we could...trade. I give you something that you want, and in return I'll get something that you think is worth what I give you."
She crosses her arms, staring at the ground.
"Uh... Isn't that what we always do?"
She feels an involuntary flame curl up in her cheeks. "Y-yes, technically," she tries, hating the stutter. "But I won't give you squirrels or turkeys. I'll give you...you know."
He stares at her. "No, I don't know."
She huffs, dragging a few fingers through her hair. "Look, I'll hang out with you. Or visit you more frequently. Or even kiss you, if that's what you want."
His eyes widen slightly, and when she dares to look up, she sees the slow spark of realization hit them.
"Ah. I see. Is this part of the game?"
Katniss starts. "What?"
"The game," he repeats, looking at her as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.
"That you and Gale play. He put you up to this, right?"
Her response is almost immediate. The no she nearly shouts is on the tip of her tongue—because this is her idea. Not Gale's, not anyone's. It's hers and hers alone.
But...
Something halts it, bars the two-lettered word in between her lips. It's a simple word, and it is suddenly impossible to pronounce out loud. Katniss isn't sure why she can blame this on Gale instead of herself.
She looks up to Peeta and feels this tiny fire of revenge flare up in her. As if she can prove to Gale—and herself—that her heart does beat. She is only cold and blunt because she must volunteer herself to be those things. She isn't actually cold and blunt. Not completely. She hopes.
She can...she can try something like this. Peeta is sweet and caring and kind, and most of all, he's patient. Patience is what she needs.
And as she hesitates while Peeta comes to his conclusions in front of her, she also feels a seed of fear imbed into her stomach. If this ends in chaos and destruction and some kind of terrible, heart wrenching ruination, well—she can blame it on Gale.
That's much easier than blaming herself.
She opens her mouth, but Peeta says, "Don't worry, Katniss. I'll make sure you win."
He smiles at her, and her stomach plummets because it's so genuine.
She nods briefly, trying and failing to smile back. "Okay. Thank you, Peeta."
"It's not a problem," he says, shrugging. "I like you, remember?"
Something warm fills her, just a touch, and she remembers marching up to him right then and there and slamming their faces together.
It's clumsy and slightly awkward and wet—the wetness sticks to her mind for a while when she frequently thinks back to it—but it wasn't so bad. It could have been worse.
They're both breathless when they break apart. He stares at her and she stares at him until she's able to clear her throat and ask if bread is an appropriate thing to take.
"Uh, yeah," he answers, voice quiet and low. He's a little flushed, and Katniss isn't even sure how she's supposed to act. He hands her the freshly baked loaf, and she attempts to smile as she takes it. She hears the ghost laugh of Gale in her mind, after the first time she tried to smile deliberately. She hopes it isn't as bad this time.
"Thanks," she says.
He nods briskly. "No problem."
Then she turns and leaves as quick as she can. She nearly trips on the welcome mat framed by the door.
And that's...that's how it starts. Peeta thinking she's winning dares, and Gale believing she's trading physical favors for things he'd never receive.
Of course it wouldn't end well, one way or another. But at least Katniss figured out she could care for someone, even if the beginning was fabricated. She'll always think of Peeta fondly—he is, technically, her first true friend. She gave up the dare charade after the third time, and not even Gale's taunting words in her mind could keep her from confessing. She couldn't handle it after gaining his trust so effortlessly. He hadn't even questioned her when it started, and her halting, butchered confession about it did not make him turn away in disgust or the dreaded and expected disappointment.
Instead, he took it with a resigned sigh. Katniss hated it. She embarked on keeping the tenuous friendship they now had, and that somehow lasted. Shockingly, it strengthened.
And then it reached its boundary.
He put his hand on hers one day. It was an hour or so before the miners let out, Katniss remembers, because they had been sitting quietly in one of their contemplative silences. She had been thinking about Gale, absently wondering how he was doing. She hadn't seen him for a long time.
She's taken out of the thought by his touch. She looks at their hands and how their coloring contrasts.
"Katniss," he begins, his thumb absently moving over the top of her hand. "I've been...I've been thinking."
A dangerous thing, thinking, Katniss thinks. Her stomach already starts twisting violently, and she watches the side of his face.
"I...look. You know how much I care about you. I've always been terrible at hiding things."
Katniss smiles. That's one of the traits she likes the most where Peeta's concerned. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and it's so easy to communicate the hard things with him. Feelings, thoughts, regular conversation. Anything.
"I know," Katniss says. "Is this about our, um, relationship?" Saying it that way nearly makes her cringe.
He breathes a laugh. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. I don't know, Katniss, I just feel really comfortable around you. And..."
Katniss eyes his thumb, slightly mesmerized by the repetitive path it makes across her skin.
"I'd...I'd like to be more than your friend."
He must see the change in her face. Even she can feel how it goes slack from the shock, though she's not sure why she's so surprised.
"Um..." she says.
He shakes his head. "You don't have to answer right now, and I know you don't like the idea of boyfriends or making deeper connections like that. I get it. But what we have right now...it's good."
"Is it not good enough?" she hears herself say. If he's offended by her tone, he doesn't show it.
"That's not—that doesn't have anything to do with what I'm asking. Katniss," he says, looking into her eyes. "I love being your friend. You know that. And I'm just saying, reaching beyond that, even just a little, well, you might love it, too."
She holds his stare for a while, and then she has to look away.
He lifts up a shoulder in a shrug. "Just think about it, okay? It's not a big deal-I was just thinking." He says it like he says everything else, in a way that you can't ever be cross. He's got that way with words, and that's something she loves about him, too.
She softens.
"Yeah," she says. "Yeah, I will."
It's a Tuesday, and after that conversation she gets home for dinner and stares at the broth until she can't take any more of her thoughts and confusion and feelings.
She ends up seeking out Gale, and it's hard for her to admit that she goes to him, not because she doesn't have anyone else as a sounding board, but because she wants to.
Besides, it's not like she can say he ever has the best advice. His advice sucks.
But he surprises her immensely.
When he appears behind Hazelle, she's shocked at how her stomach claws at the lining of her skin. He's bedraggled, his clothes are rumpled, and his hair is spiked and wild, still damp from a bath.
"Katniss?" he says, eyes disbelieving. "What are you doing here?"
"I was…" she hesitates. "I was just hoping to talk to you for a minute."
His face pinches in thought, looking as though he can't fathom why she's here.
"Uh, yeah, sure."
Once he's outside with her, he asks, "Is something wrong?"
She shakes her head, knowing what she wants to say and struggling to say it. It's always a hundred times harder when she's got his full attention. She takes him in a little more, noticing how silvery his eyes are in the nighttime, how they don't hide his worry. Her gut pulls at her again, and it unsettles her at how freely he's showing his emotion.
They haven't seen each other in a while, she thinks, and it's then that she realizes her stomach is fraught with nerves.
"So what is it?" he prods, after the silence has stretched. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," she says. "Listen. You were right about…Peeta."
He rubs at his face, already seeming to be annoyed. "He said no to you?"
She swallows. "No, he…wants more than I can give."
"Shocker," he says sarcastically, but she ignores it.
"I'm…not sure what to do."
"What's it been now, a couple months?"
She hesitates for a moment, wondering if he's been counting the days like she has. And then realizes how silly that idea is. "...yes."
He crosses his arms in front of him. "I figured you two would be buddy-buddy by now."
She bites the inside of her cheek. "Not…not too much. I have a hard time getting…"
"Close to people," he finishes absently.
"Yeah, I know."
"I've just been…we've just been…" she trails, eyes furrowing. She takes to fingering the tail of her braid, staring at it determinedly. Not sure how to explain, she admits the first thing that comes to mind.
"Kissing is easier, now."
He grins at her, but she misses it because she's still staring at her braid. "You think kissing is easy?"
"It's…I'm not as uncomfortable as I used to be," she relents. Which is true. They only kissed a handful of times, if that, but Peeta did help her to not be so uncomfortable getting that physically close to someone.
"You're still uncomfortable with it?"
She shakes her head, sighing. "It's just something to get used to."
"Katniss," he says, pushing off the wall by the door. It sounds as if he's ready to scold her. "Kissing should be fun. I thought you might have been…starting to enjoy yourself."
She shakes her head again. "It's never been about enjoying anything. It was just trading. And then I would start to feel guilty, so I spent time with him without making him give me anything. I—he's nice. His mother is really mean to him, so I thought…" she ends with a huff. "I gave him the wrong idea."
"If you spend enough time with someone, they tend to think you like them."
She glances up to him, opening her mouth. Something she sees in his face stops her from commenting on what he said. She pauses. "It's my fault. I'm not sure how to fix it."
"He wants to be more than friends, right? Just tell him you like where you are. It's simple."
Her face pinches in a frown. "But if I say that, his feelings will be hurt and…I don't want that."
Katniss has been aware of this for a while, but caring for people, no matter how vigorously she tried to avoid it, was impossible.
She cares immensely for Peeta. She also cares for Gale, too.
But she'll keep that close to her heart, all to herself, like a secret.
"When have you ever concerned yourself with…" he stops, but she can feel the waves of frustration coming off of him even when he tries to backpedal. "I mean, it's good that you care. You've opened up to him enough to…care."
The night procures a shroud of shadows over his face, and it's hard to read his eyes.
"I don't like it," she says softly.
"It can be a burden," he concedes. "But if you care for him this much, to talk to me," he breathes a laugh, "of all people, then maybe you should give him the chance. You can always say no after you try it out." He crosses his arms in front of his chest. "That's what people do, sometimes, you know. They date."
She tightens up. For some reason, she isn't expecting this from Gale. Maybe she had this vain hope that he'd deter her away from Peeta and towards...
She peeks up at him, realizes what she's thinking, and erases her line of thought with as much force as she can muster. Towards whatever else, just not Peeta.
"Sorry," he says, looking away from her. "It's ah, been a long day."
"You're tired," she observes, eyes traveling over him.
"A little," he says.
"A lot," she counters, staring hard at his face for the first time. It really is withdrawn, and his eyes droop more than normal. "You should get more rest."
"Okay, mom."
"Gale."
He holds up his hands. "Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine."
"I'll—go. I've kept you for too long," she says.
"No, you haven't. I'm glad you came by," he says. "And think about it, alright? If you care about him or…well, think about it. You never know what could happen."
"I don't want a boyfriend, Gale," she says, stopping and glancing over her shoulder to him, wondering if the statement is true. "But I'll think about what you said."
As they say goodbye, she leaves feeling empty. His words are encouraging, yet she leaves even more confused than she was before.
That's the night, Katniss believes, that she filed her walls down just enough to think about Gale like all the other girls did. It still didn't mean anything back then, but it helped her ease into the idea that it could mean something.
Katniss reminisces on the times after that fateful time, visiting Gale at his home on that Tuesday—his most intimate sanctuary—and opening up more to him than she ever had.
She's got to hand it to herself—she had been brave that day. She'd been brave the next days, too, talking to Peeta about what their friendship meant to her, more so than whatever a boyfriend-girlfriend relationship would have meant.
She hugged him, too, and she nearly cried. She never cries. Her fear of hurting him was extreme, and it made her friendship speech clam up in her throat. It came out stilted, unorganized, a huge mess. The good thing about Peeta, though-he was able to decipher all of her jumbled words. She thanked him, and he kissed her on the temple.
He still gives her nice things—bread, yeast, sugar—for nothing feasible in return. It doesn't matter what she says. He's impossible that way. He won't even take any of her squirrels anymore.
Her courage developed with that speech to Peeta. During the next times she'd see Gale, she led with her heart. It was instinctual, given whatever factor it was that affected her most, whether it be the time away from each other, the physical and emotional distance, or the way all of him looked in the first instances that she'd reacquaint her eyes with him. She let whatever she felt take over, because if she had learned anything about herself in the months between stepping away from Gale and trying to be a normal girl for once, it was that a change in perspective really does have that magical quality of clarification.
Finding him alone and miserable in the Hob with a free drink spinning between his hands, and then slapping him for trying to hide back into his iron-willed shell.
Then catching him in the forest, her lips brushing against his ear. Got you.
Then wrestling with the dishes.
Then realizing that all those years trying to not get to know him were in vain. She knew a lot about him, and in the weeks following, she learned the microscopic details; his thoughts, how he acted when she teased him, how he'd tasted cake only once.
Then him daring her to kiss him.
When the feelings began to core their hearts, those years of barricaded emotions spiraled out of them like a tossed spool of thread.
Katniss remembers their first kiss. The way his eyes looked when he witnessed what her hair was like loosed from her braid, how his fingers blazed their trails along her neck and her jaw and her hip. The consuming passion behind it, the raw sensation, the indescribable need to get closer. It still makes her tremble.
She sighs at the thought, pushing her back against the tree. They've come a long way.
Now she's been inside his own house, has met his family. She felt that embracing warmth and a strangely surprising sense of belonging she wasn't expecting. She also got to witness Gale blush not once, but twice. That in itself is a feat that she had previously thought to be impossible.
The one thing that has had her thinking, though, is his expressions the entire evening. Something was different about them, the most conspicuous one being the look he gave her when they were attempting to wash dishes. It gave her a feeling, like a flame lit under her intuition. She knows the look he gave her. She knows what it should mean. She had seen it from Peeta a few times, during their hang-outs and the time spent together. She equated it to hopefulness and an unabashed showing of affection.
Katniss will admit, having that affection shown and the freely given attention directed her way...well, it made her feel good and guilty at the same time. The direct attention was a change of pace, the small bouts of occasional affection even moreso. And while she would roll her eyes or attempt to evade all of it, it makes her feel contrite to confess that she did, secretly, like it.
When she received the look from Gale, she was a bit stunned. The breath behind her smile got pulled back down her throat and into her stomach, lifting it up in a small flip. A billion thoughts ran through her mind, but she couldn't concentrate on any of them. She was momentarily immobilized until he kissed her, and then she was able to think...and wonder if...
He didn't say anything. She stole glances of him the rest of the night, contemplating if it meant anything at all. It was Gale, after all. She had seen worry and concern from him before, she's seen looks of affection from him—usually when they'd kiss. She thought it was potentially from his euphoria from kissing that she'd get, too.
So, funnily, sitting by her favorite tree in the forest on a Saturday morning, thinking back on all their times spent together, she can't remember a time when Gale looked at her with so much sincerity in his eyes.
That's when she decides, looking out over the dipping valley below, what she's going to do.
Gale sighs out a breath of relief when the bell rings, signaling the end of the workday. He puts his tools away, reaching and packing himself into the first lift out of the mines.
It's been a full week since Katniss came over for dinner. Nothing has changed between them, as nothing should have, but during the times when he was able to see her over the week, he noticed her giving him longer stares than usual. More contemplative glances.
It made him nervous at first, and then he realized his nerves would blow over. She'd stop giving him those suspicious glances or whatever they were, and they would be...them.
He's told himself that if she does ask him, he'll have no choice but to tell her the truth. As much as that frightens him, and as much as he'd like to lie to her and tell her something that it isn't, he already knows that's not an option. He figures, if she's been able to keep a friendship with Peeta even after whatever went down between them, surely they would be able to do the same?
It makes him a little sick thinking about losing her friendship. He just hopes nothing too terrible happens. He appeases his thoughts by telling himself she likes kissing too much.
He shakes the feelings out of him, and by the time he gets home he's already thinking about going to see her. It turns out, however, that he doesn't have to. He makes out her figure sitting on his porch, messing with torn pieces of grass. She twists them and ties them together in several knots. For some reason, the sight of her creating knots makes his stomach fold into knots, too.
"Catnip," he says, the surprise coming out of him. "Is everything okay? You've never showed up at my house right after my shift."
"Gale," she says, standing up and brushing off the grass pieces sticking to her pants. "Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to see you."
"Oh," answers. "Sorry, I guess I'm just used to going to your house instead." He pauses. "I'm glad you're here. I always want to see you."
She looks at the ground, and he runs a sheepish hand through his hair. She's still a little bashful when he says things like that. They usually slip out of him without warning, though ever since last Saturday, it feels like he's much more aware of when he says them. It makes him a little on edge.
"You want to come inside?"
"Actually," she says, pushing back a strand of hair behind her ear. It's one of her nervous tics. "I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Ah," he says, a bit of terror creeping into him. Right when he was starting to feel comfortable. "Of course." He walks up to her and they both take a seat on the step leading up to his front door.
"What's...on your mind?" he asks slowly.
She bites her lip. "I've been thinking," she begins. The words already don't sound promising. Gale tenses, steeling up for the blow, and he can't bring himself to tease her about her actually thinking.
"And...well, you're my best friend, Gale."
He softens a little at the words. He gives her a small smile. "You're mine, too."
She smiles a little, too, though it's strained. "I know you've been wondering about Peeta for a long time, and we're still close friends. But it's always been different with him. I..." she struggles. "I'm not sure how I can explain it. He told me, once, that he thought he loved me. And I told him that he was a wonderful friend, but that I couldn't give him what he wanted that way. With love, you know, in so many words." She shakes her head. "It was after I went to your house for advice. It wasn't the best speech I've ever given, but he understood."
Gale feels himself nodding, but his heart is beating quickly, and that slow line of fear closes his throat up like a zipper.
"I just wanted to tell you this because I thought you might like to know this. I learned a lot from that, about relationships and emotions and, in a way, how to figure out how I feel about certain...things."
She looks up at him, and he holds her eyes. "That's...good, Katniss," he croaks. "Thanks for telling me."
She gives him this deep stare, and after a while, he looks down, wiping his ashy hands against his even ashier pants.
A few beats pass, and he waits for it—for the severance or for her to grasp his hand to tell him what she told Peeta. Instead, she says, "I dare you to tell me how you feel about me."
He whips his head toward her. "What?"
Her chest rises in a ponderous breath. "I didn't think you'd tell me on your own, so I'm daring you."
"Katniss—"
"Tell me," she persists. He hesitates, certain his shirt is sticking to him from his spontaneous sweat.
"I..." he tries. "Look, you...I know you won't like the answer."
She frowns, trying to catch his eye. "Why do you think I won't?"
"Katniss, this..." he says, and he feels that great sadness that he had been doing his best to avoid. He can only ever give her what she wants, even if what she wants is nothing. "This will change things."
She takes in his features, and her look isn't sharp or harsh. It's soft, understanding. He's not sure if that's worse or better. Then she lifts her hand and cups his cheek, and her lips part into a smile.
"Change doesn't have to be bad," she says quietly.
"No, it doesn't," he says back, just as quietly.
His throat allows no more words to pass through his mouth. His heart blockades the path.
She waits for him, and when he doesn't say anything, she prods, "You're willing to lose? Over a silly dare?"
He smiles at this, and he reaches up and puts his hand on top of hers. "Losing isn't so bad."
She laughs lightly. "I never thought I'd hear you say anything like that."
"Well," he shrugs. "If it makes you happy, then it's no big deal to me."
Her eyes flicker at that, and her face changes. He doesn't have time to decide what it means, because she leans in and kisses him. It is soft and undemanding, the hand on his cheek moving into his hair. He moves his hands to her hips, and he relishes the moment a bit longer because it's the kind of kiss that greases his heart. As it finds its rightful place inside his chest, he reluctantly pulls away and looks at her.
"I love you," he says. He expects an immediate rush of panic to drown him after the words are in the air, but it doesn't. The words, in all their mighty glory, are as natural as water. "I understand if it's not what you wanted, and I know that—"
She interrupts him with another kiss. And another. She moves herself from the porch step and maneuvers herself into his lap, straddling him and pushing him backwards. Her tenacity astounds him as her arms wrap around his neck and her fingers hold his face. Her legs squeeze him, and he finally begins to react after a moment, his hands wrapping around her back and bunching up her shirt.
He's dizzy when they stop, and she pulls back a single inch. She puts her forehead against his, and she says, "I love you, too."
"What?" he says, still kind of incoherent.
She smiles, kisses him, and then puts her lips to his ear. She whispers, "I said I love you."
"Oh," he says, blinking. "Oh," he emphasizes when it registers. "That's...great."
"Mm," she says. She runs her fingers through is hair. "Yeah."
"I..." he says. "I didn't think you did."
"Well, I do."
"Yeah," he says, and he finally feels it. The knots are gone. He grins wide. "Yeah, you do."
Then he kisses her, really kisses her, flowing out of him uninhibited by any fears or doubts or uncertainties.
This, he thinks, holding her secured against him. He could do this forever.
He thinks, maybe, they will. As long as it isn't started by another dare.
He prefers truths, anyway.
the end.