Looking Gale in the eyes, I give him the smirk I used to always give him.
"I just kissed you, didn't I?" He then raps his fingers around the bottom of my chin, his thumb on my jawbone, and kisses me for a solid minute. He retreats with a smile, and says, "Not bad Catnip. I mean sure, you're all right. Maybe we can practice some more." He winks at me, and I laugh because I know he's joking. He's the biggest gentleman I know. Hands in his pockets, rubbing the sole of his shoe on a lopsided rock lying on the ground, my mind flashes to all the wonderful memories we created as children. How nothing seemed to matter in the world except for us. I catch myself staring at him, and he looks up at me and yells for all of Panem to hear, "Jeesh, Catnip! Are you some sort of creeper! You can't keep your eyes off me!" I feel a pang of worry for a second, but then he takes his masculine arms and wraps them tightly around my body. Encased into his chest, we stand outside, displaying our embrace for everyone. If Peeta would only see this, I think. Being legally married to him, I should feel guilt and remorse. Except I don't. I feel free. I feel love. And because I might just be slipping away from the boy with the bread, I let myself deeper and deeper into Gale's hug; fully embracing the moment I wish would last forever.
The sky is now a maroon-tinted charcoal, the sun slipping into nonexistence as it streaks the horizon. Half asleep in Gale's arms, he tilts my chin up with his pointer finger and gazes into my eyes.
"Do you need to go back to Peeta now?" I appreciate the courteous offer, but his words are stained with regret. I look at the ground, smile, and slowly answer with, "Well, surround yourself with people you love, right? In that case…" Grabbing my hand with such instinct, Gale and I rush into his house like newlyweds, and he whispers in my ear, " You can stay. Just don't cook, okay?" Having the first real giggle in months, I sit at his kitchen table, as the man I love makes me dinner.
Bellies full, and our laughs worn tired, Gale and I just make small talk at the dinner table. It's ten thirty, and I feel if I don't get home soon, Peeta will start to investigate.
"Gale, I…."
"It's totally fine Katniss. Go home. Feel free to stop by anytime. This was really fun." His shaking words are meaningful, but I don't think he's confortable with the cheating and Peeta. Sighing in unison, we give each other a brief, emotionless hug goodbye.
"Oh wait, Gale, let me give you your coat back!"
"Keep it. You can have it." Smiling down at the beat up, weathered-down jacket, I slowly walk out the door and into the silent, lonely night. The sun is now well under the horizon, and the night isn't nearly as beautiful as it was when I stood outside with Gale. I follow the dirt road to the mansion, and I pause a moment on the gray stone porch, before I enter. Sitting at the table, just as I had been this morning, is Peeta, a mockingjay cookie in his hands.
"Hi.."
"Katniss…." Begging for forgiveness, he kisses me over and over and over again. The warmth of his breath pulls me in and I kiss him lightly back. Peeta's nearly crying now, and I feel so awful about keeping Gale a secret, that I rub his silky hair and hush him like a child.
"It's all right, Peeta. It's all right." His hands are callused from lifting so many hot trays all day, but I don't mind. He scoops me up in his arms, plops me onto the couch, and joins me on the satin cushions. Kissing me like he's dying tomorrow, I fall asleep in his arms and the warmth of his breath on my face.
In a meadow, I feel the grass pulling and touching my ankles. The grass is such a hue that brings tears to your eyes, and a certain warmth to the soul. The sun is beating down and I can feel it on my cheek. Grasping out to get a ray, the sun moves further and further away. Grasping, grasping, grasping. For happiness. Just one little sun ray would be enough sheer happiness to send me to heaven. I begin to feel frustrated. The sun will not cooperate.
"You want happiness, Katniss Everdeen?" A god-like voice comes down from the sun-streaked clouds.
"Yes! Yes! I want something to make me happy. Everyday of my life. I want to feel love, and only love. Not guilt, sadness, or remorse." I speak into the clouds, not even feeling the least bit silly.
"Go to the primroses. You'll find happiness." Running, running faster than I was in the hunger games, I reach the primroses. All that is here is sadness. Sitting down in the field of tranquil flowers, The warmth on my face begins to grow. This must be the happiness. Looking up to see if Peeta is the warmth, a familiar hand streaks my jawbone. Looking up, I see that happiness, as if it were some sentimental being, isn't Peeta at all. It's Gale.
Waking up to the all-to-familiar sound of sizzling pancakes, I see Peeta in the kitchen, with his little apron on.
"Have a nice dream, sweetpea?" I take long dramatic breaths. That was a silly dream. Just mixed up, jumbled pieces of my imagination. It means nothing. Except nothing, as it too often seems, can turn into something.