Chapter Thirty Six

Hello All! I'm back. Sorry to leave you hanging for so long - I was in grad school - but now that I'm finished and the final HG's movies are on the horizon, I'm motivated to finish my story. Thank you for your reviews. I love hearing from you guys and it always encourages me to write more. Please keep them coming!

I don't know how much time passes by. Gale's lips are soft and warm and I like the way he touches me. One hand cupping my face, flicking my ear as he pushes my hair back; the other, supporting and somehow caressing my back. He moves it slowly, gently. It excites me. Everything is perfect. I'm lost in a haze of taste and touch.

That is, until I start thinking.

Does he like this?

Do I like this?

I like this.

What are we doing?

What does this mean?

I need to keep kissing him.

Does he want me to keep kissing him?

Wait, where should I put my hands?

What will we bring back to Sylvie?

These thoughts that tangle my mind. I'm no longer in the moment with Gale. No longer in the thrill. The rush.

"Oh, Katniss," he breathes heavily. His hot breath touches my ear. His lips brush past my ear.

My skin rises as he says this and I feel a warmness rising with in me, pulling me back to him. I move closer to Gale and let his voice drown out the one in my head. My lips return to his frantically. Suddenly, I'm not thinking about kissing Gale anymore, I'm just doing it. And it's wonderful.

I really like this, I think, pulling myself over top of him.

"Oh, Katniss!" He repeats. I feel myself sizzle again. But something seems different this time. "Ow, Katniss…" This time he groans. And painfully.

"Oh my god, Gale!" In the heat of the moment, i totally forgot about his wounds. "You're hurt! I wasn't thinking."

"No, its okay," he says, pulling me back to him and shifting slightly, "just got to find a different position." He nears my lips to his.

"Gale, no, you're hurt! What were we thinking?"

I pull myself away from him and sit at his side. He has a gash on his face, but it doesn't look deep. There's a bit of blood and gravel mixed in. His one arm is also scratched and it looks like it will be deeply bruised, maybe sprained. Again, the wounds don't look too severe, but he's got several cuts and scrapes. A few are bleeding. There are tears in his pants, which tells me his jeans have suffered a similar fate, if not worse since he landed on them.

"Oh, Gale," I say with concern.

"It's nothing, Katniss, I'm fine." He reaches for my face again.

I fret my brow and challenge Gale, swatting his hand away. "How can you be thinking about that right now? Now let me see your arm."

"Katniss, do you have any idea how long I've waited to-oww!"

I'd grabbed his arm and stretch it out. He grimaces. "How badly does that hurt?"

"It's not broken," he says, but his words betrayed his anguish.

I touch it gently, to make sure nothing feels broken or out of place. I try to wipe the dirt out of his gash and then slowly move each of his fingers, all of which feel fine, and then roll his wrist. He grimaces again. "It's your wrist."

He breathes deeply and only nods.

"What about your side?"

"Bruised ribs, probably."

I move to pull up his shirt. I can see the scratch marks dabbled in blood. As I pull it off his shoulders careful not to hurt him, he starts to laugh. I stare at him like he's gone mad. "What's so funny?" I almost accuse.

"It's nothing," he says between sighs of pain and laughter. But my eyes don't let him go. "It's just," he tries to explain, "you taking off my shirt after what we just…" He chuckles and then moans in pain. "I was just thinking…" My eyes hold his, still not comprehending.

"I had to take off your shirt! How else would I tend your wounds?"

Gale sighs again and shakes his head. He opens his mouth, but says nothing, clearly reconsidering. "You're clearly not thinking the same thing I'm thinking."

My eyes tell him I still don't understand, but he doesn't give in. So I return to his injuries. His side is already bruising, deep and dark, he's probably broken a few. I press against them slowly. He inhales sharply and doesn't move. This clearly hurts a lot. I take one of our water bottles and dampen a clean part of his removed shirt. I try to clean the scrapes on his ribs and his arm. Once cleaned, I move to his forehead. My face moves close to his as I gently pull the gravel and grass from the cut. I'm so close I can feel his eyes on me, feel his breath as it touches my neck, and I suddenly remember that we were kissing a few minutes ago and we'd never done that before. And now there's this silence. It's awkward. And for some reason I think talking will make it less so.

"So," I begin, dabbing his now clean wound, "That thing..."

"Yes?"

"You know," I'm staring at his face trying to look anywhere but his eyes, searching for another wound to clean and something to say, but all his wounds are tended to so I just wipe some of the dirt off his brow. "You know, that we were doing before…"

"You mean kissing?"

"I guess."

"Unless you're talking about the hunting?"

"No."

"So the kissing?"

"Yeah."

"Us kissing?"

"If that's what you want to call it," I look at him sheepishly. "I just want you to know I wasn't really thinking…"

"No kidding."

"I was scared and it was so sudden and I thought you might have been dead…" I'm starting to fumble. "Because you know, you fell off that cliff…"

"I did."

"...So, you know I kissed you…"

"You did."

"…Yeah…I guess. I was just wasn't thinking. I was so worried and caught up…."

"Katniss, you realize I kissed you too?"

"Yes. Of course." What am I trying to say? "I just….I guess….I just want you to know you didn't have to."

"Katniss," he laughs, and he slowly pulls himself up so he's sitting more upright. My eyes get large as I worry, uncertain what he's doing or what he's going to say. "Katniss," he repeats, taking my hand in his. My heart begins to quiver. This is getting serious. He stares at me intently. "You really don't have any idea, do you?"

"What?" If I weren't so nervous, I'd be insulted.

"How long I've wanted to do that? How many times I've thought about…How many times I've had to stop myself…" He's starting to struggle with his words. "All the things I've—All the times I've—All the…?" He continues to fumble.

I stare at him like he's speaking another language, not quite comprehending.

"Gale, are you okay? Did you hit your head?" I'm beginning to worry about his attempts at labored speech.

"God, Katniss, No! I mean, yes, I did, but…but no, that's not why…that's not why I'm…Katniss… I've…I've wanted…you…I've wanted this…" he stops trying to explain. He takes my face in his hand and kisses me. It's passionate, almost desperate, and I like it.

"So, you mean, does this mean, you like me?" I blurt out after what have been minutes

"Like you, Katniss?" Gale is still exasperated, "Katniss, I l—" he pauses, "Yes, Katniss. I like you a lot."

"Then why didn't you ever say anything?" My question is honest. Gale practically rolls his eyes.

He laughs again. My eyes demand a response. "You're serious?" I pull away from him and nod. "Katniss, you told me not to!"

"When?" I'm incredulous.

"Well, you told me that you never wanted a husband, family or kids about a thousand times since I've met you." That is true, I realize, but also, kind of irrelevant. "You also said you never wanted a boyfriend and that you thought that having one was, and I quote, 'a waste of time and gross…'"

"That was at least a year ago!" I interrupt. Though that is also true.

"You've also said romance is stupid and love is a waste of time. And you explicitly told me when you climbed into my room after I found you in the woods that you didn't want anyone to like you or touch you at all. Ever."

I guess he's right about that. "Well, yeah…." I fumble. "I…" My mouth hangs open as I try to explain. "Why did you listen to me?"

Gale just smiles. He leans in and kisses me again. "I kind of figured that this was important for you to figure out yourself."

And as we lose ourselves in each other again, I think he was right.