Ouais, le prochain chapitre! Sorry it took so long, I've been on unannounced hiatus for months now because of school. But here's a short little bit of a chapter for now. Lisez. :)
I wake up in a daze Saturday morning, not quite sure where I am, but a deep yet calming voice from across the room reminds me.
"Good morning," he says cheerily. I frown at him. Right, I got locked out last night.
I pull the covers off and run my fingers through dark black, pin straight hair. "Morning," I manage.
He sits cross-legged on the end of the bed, his eyes quickly running over my figure, failing at discretion. He gave me a pair of his sweatpants and a tshirt last night to wear to bed, which almost seems to mimic a relationship-esque action, even if Cato is no more than a friend. And I slept in his bed, too.
"Do you know what today is?" he asks.
I think about it for a moment, and a few seconds later, I realize that today is the day I've been waiting for since I was a kid. "I can go get an apartment now!" I blurt. In District 2, you can stay in your parents' house indefinitely, until they want you out. Most kids don't leave their house until after they graduate college if they don't enter the Hunger Games, but the district will also grant you an apartment of your own on your sixteenth birthday as an alternative option. They say it's because they want to encourage the District's youth to be motivated towards an independent future, but I think it's just so they can make the kids get jobs sooner and make the District even better than the others.
Cato laughs at my outburst and shoves me. "I was going to say it's your birthday," he chuckles.
"Will you drive me back home so I can get my stuff and go apply for an apartment?"
"Clove!" he chuckles absent-mindedly. "Happy birthday!"
I look at him quizzically. "Yeah, birthdays have never really been a big deal in my house. I actually don't think my mom has ever been present and sober for any of mine. Other than the original one."
He looks at me more thoroughly, as if soaking up the details of my life. But strangely, he doesn't look at me like I expected; he doesn't act like I'm a lost little puppy who got kicked in the head by his owner. He just looks. "Don't you need help moving in?" he asks evenly.
"It's not much stuff, you know, I could do it myself."
"But it's your birthday," he counters, grinning.
The door is unlocked when I get back to my mother's house. She's not home, but I'm always bracing myself for her to come home; I never know what time it will be. Thankfully, packing is easy, because the few items of mine – bed linens, clothes, school books, toiletries, and other personal belongings – fit into a few large boxes that Cato and I fill quickly and throw into the back of his truck.
"Meet you at the town hall?" he yells over his engine. I nod in response and climb into my own car.
I follow closely behind his truck as we make our way through town. He smiles at me in the rearview mirror, and I have a sudden feeling that everything will be different now.
"Can you grab the key out of my pocket? I can't get it," I manage as a box threatens to slide off the pile I carry in my hands.
"No, no, no, put those down! You have to do it!" he urges. "It's the first time you're going into your apartment; you have to unlock it yourself."
I roll my eyes at him but oblige, practically throwing the boxes to the ground before reaching into my pocket and fumbling with the keys in the lock. I turn it slowly and open the door after the lock clicks.
"Behold," Cato whispers sarcastically.
It's really not much; it's a simple loft apartment with a small bathroom, kitchen and eating area, and a bed. It's not much, but it's everything. I can feel him smiling at me from the hallway, and when I turn towards him he smiles even wider.
"Time to unpack nothing," I remark drily while picking up the boxes.
"It might not be much, but most of the kids in the school are still at home with their parents. It's pretty cool you have an apartment to yourself," he reasons as we pile the boxes on the counter.
"I guess," I say, pulling picture frames and bed linens out of the first box.
Cato smirks as I unfold them onto the bed and begin to make it. "Preparing for our hot night tonight?" I choke on air in shocked response and topple over a small table by accident. He rushes over, the smirk lost on his face while he tries to repair the leg that came loose.
"Damn, I was only kidding," he smiles up at me, his face inches away while my hands work idly on nothing in particular. "You're not that kind of girl."
"You're forgetting about me apparently becoming a whore last summer," I return as I stand. "Didn't you hear? I was with like 10 different guys in one month, two of them on one occasion," I add, mimicking the voices of the snobbish girls who invented those rumors.
"Clove, come on. Nobody really believed that. Who would… I mean, you're not exactly…" he trails off.
My eyebrows knit together in what I can only describe as confusion and offense. But I quickly retaliate. "What? You don't think anybody would sleep with me? Congratulations, you now fit into the description of any member of the male student body that joined those girls in starting rumors about me."
"Clove, I didn't mean – "
"Just get out."
"Clove," he reaches for me, but I push him away.
"Now." I pause before adding, "Thank you for all of your help, but I am clearly beneath your standards."
He shuffles reluctantly to the door and leaves within moments.
I just unpack my stupid boxes and go to bed. Happy birthday to me.