Cato POV

What did you just do? I ask myself as she walks out of the room. You just kissed her, moron! You just kissed you're best friend!

I immediately get myself up from my sitting position on the wall and start taking my anger out on the spears and dummies. I mean, yes, I've liked her since I first met her, but that's no excuse to go and kiss her! Why couldn't I have come up with a better excuse to why I'm nice to her? Why did I have to tell her the truth?

Because she's Clove, I think. I could never lie to Clove, no matter how much I tried. It's physically and mentally impossible to lie to her. Because I love her. Alright, fine. I admit it. I more than like her. I love her. I mean, you can't have a crush on someone for three years and say you only like them. Right?

She doesn't come back into the training room until the training day actually starts. That's how I know she's been thinking about what I did. That's how I know she's upset about it.

But there's a thought that works its way in. What if she liked it? Moron! She pushed me away! Of course she didn't like it! Who am I kidding?

I tell myself to calm down. Obviously, just because of what I did, doesn't mean my feelings have changed about her at all. If anything, my feelings for her have only grown stronger. But the way she thinks about me now has definitely changed. For the better or for the worse, I don't quite know.

She doesn't talk to me for the rest of the day, and I don't blame her. I dropped a big bomb this morning and I don't try to talk to her about it either. I give her space to think it through. So I continue the day going through my regular training procedures.

But there's still that one thought that lingers in my mind, wondering, just wondering, if maybe she liked it, too.

Clove POV

I go home that day after training to take a shower and change clothes. I still haven't really figured out how I feel about the kiss, but there will be plenty of time for that later. I make myself dinner, and as I go to sit down at the table, I hear the front door open and heavy footsteps walk in. I quietly set down my plate, and grab my knife. As quietly as I can I start to make my way to the hallway.

I'm just about to step into the hall, when the pair of footsteps and the body they belong to beat me to it. I am about to strike when I realize who it is I am about to hit.

"Dad? What are you doing here?" I say in a surprised, yet stern tone. I don't lower my knife, because, really, I don't trust him at all.

"What do you think? I'm here for the alcohol," he says and he pushes his way past me and into the kitchen. He quickly begins searching the cabinets for any leftover booze that he hasn't yet drunk. He's already intoxicated, and clearly does not need any more alcohol. "Where the hell did you put it all? I know I had at least three more bottles in here!" he yells at me.

"You used the last of them last night. At least that's what it looks like from how unsober you are," I say to him.

"Just tell me where to find the goddamned booze, Rose! I don't care if you think I need to be sober, because I don't give a shit! Just tell me where it is and leave me the hell alone!" he screams as he searches frantically. A glass comes flying at my head and I duck before it hits me.

"I don't know where the stupid booze is, Dad! I'm not Rose, Dad! It's me, Clove! Your daughter!" I yell right back at him. And the one time, the only time, I have ever let my guard down, happens to be the worst time to drop that knife. He walks right up to me, and punches me right in the face.

I am so taken by shock, that I just look at him, put my knife in my jacket, and run out the door. I can already feel the side of my face bruising and swelling. I touch my face and can tell it's bleeding, too. Crazy how bad a drunk man can hit. I start to cry and run to the only place I can think of. Cato's house.

As soon as I get there, I run up to Cato's room. He's not home yet. In spite of what happened between us today, I wish he was here. I need him here. But I know he'll be home soon, so I sit on his bed, put my head to my knees, and cry. I must have cried for twenty minutes before I hear Cato downstairs.

He opens the door and as soon as he sees me, he is immediately sitting next to me with his arms around me. The side I was hit on isn't facing him, so he hasn't seen the bruise yet.

"Oh my God, Clove! What happened?" He asks as he lets me cry into his shirt.

"He...he came home today. He was drunk. He started yelling at me and threw a glass at me. He...he called me Rose. He called me by my mother's name. He didn't know who I was. I don't think he cared," I say in between sobs. I put my hands to my face as if they are going to protect me from the memory of my dad's rage.

"Did he hurt you?" Cato asks.

"It's nothing," I say.

"Clove, did he hurt you?" he says, more demanding and worried.

"I'll be fine," I reply, as I take my hands away from my face. He immediately takes my face into his hands gently, and as soon as he sees the bruise, his face tightens.

"I'm going to kill him," he says in all seriousness. "You don't need him, Clove. I promise you, he will never hurt you again. Not while I'm still here. I swear it."

At this moment, I finally understand what I mean to him. I can see it in his eyes and I can hear it in his voice. He genuinely cares about me.

"You're not going to do anything to him, Cato," I tell him.

"Clove, he hit you! Someone needs to know about this! He can't get away with it!"

"Yes, he will. And you're not going to tell anyone about it because I'm telling you not to," I say.

I can tell I've angered him. "Why are you trying to protect him, Clove? He can't get away with doing something like this! I won't let him hurt you again!"

"And he won't because I'm never going to go near him again. And there's no need to make a big deal out of something that's never going to happen again. Cato, if you care about me at all, you won't say anything. Please." I can see he's still infuriated with me, but I know he won't stay mad for long. He calms down soon enough.

"Fine. But if he even comes near you again, I'm telling someone about it. I won't let him hurt you again," He repeats.

"I know." I tell him. I lean my head on his shoulder. "Thank you for putting up with me today. I feel so weak crying twice in one day. This isn't the way I should be acting. I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. You have every right to be upset." He pauses for a moment. "And Clove?"

"Yeah?"

"I know I've already said this, but I'm sorry about earlier. I shouldn't have kissed you. I don't know what I was thinking. My emotions got the better of me and I acted before thinking about how you would take it and if you want to forget about it, I completely understand."

I take a moment to answer him. "I don't," I say.

This takes him by surprise. "Wait, what?"

"I don't want to forget about it," I tell him.

He looks at me confused and asks, "You...you don't?"

I look at him, give him a small smile and say "No."

He looks at me and I can tell all his anger has been pushed aside and has become replaced with happiness. I smile at him and he smiles back. It's the first time I think I've seen him genuinely smile.

He hesitates a moment to see if it's alright, and then he slowly leans in. But this time, instead of pushing away, I kiss him back.

And that was how the best two years of my life began.