"I think it's ridiculous, this little crush you have," Nia tells me impatiently. "You know she's going to die. Maybe from your hands."

"I wouldn't kill her," I say, thinking of Tara and imagining all the possible ways I could kill her. I immediately cancel all of them out. "I couldn't."

Nia rolls her eyes. "Come on, Riegan. You can't be serious. She's not even that good-looking."

That, I suppose, is where we differ in opinion, because I think she's kind of... pretty. She's not as sexy as Nia—and I say that objectively—but she looks like my ideal girl. She's not too attention-grabbing. She average-looking enough to be approachable, but if you take the time to look at her, she's beautiful.

"Unless you're turned on by her combat skills or something," says Nia sarcastically, breaking into my reverie.

I grin and say cheekily, "Maybe. The way she was able to absolutely destroy that assistant yesterday was pretty hot."

Nia throws her hands up and groans.

"I think I'm going to show her the garden," I muse.

Nia finally has enough. She takes me by the shoulders and very firmly says: "This isn't some girl from Two. This is the Hunger Games. She will die. If you want to win, you have to let her go. There is no way this crush will end well, Riegan."

"Maybe I don't want to win," I say, stringing Nia along.

She lets me go. "If you're giving up already, then... well, then I don't know who you are anymore." She spins around and walks away. I let her. She'll find out eventually... I have every intention of all of us coming out alive, if we don't all kill each other first.

...

I catch up with Tara later, again in the elevator. We have just finished our last day of training. She looks thoroughly flustered to be alone with me again. "Tara," I say, taking her hand. She is about to yank it back, but I hold onto it firmly enough so she can't. "Have you seen the garden upstairs, yet?"

She stares at me, with that familiar contempt. "What are you talking about?"

"There's a garden upstairs, with a great view. Let me show it to you," I say, begging a bit.

Her eyes narrow. "Why?"

I squeeze her fingers. "Please?"

Her glare softens, and she meets my eyes. I allow myself to imagine that maybe she is a girl from Two, and I am permitted to be attracted to her, my heart is permitted to race when I see her eyes, I am permitted to wish for something more. I remind myself that it's dangerous to, and that she is not a girl from Two, but the thing is, that's kind of the good thing about Tara Mellark. She is a Career, but she knows it's wrong. She's... she's like me.

"Fine," she breathes nervously, letting go of my hand and sidestepping just slightly, but I don't care. She has agreed to come with me.

I take her past the penthouse—and her floor—to the garden. I pluck some flowers and offer them to her. She takes them, still smiling hesitantly.

That hesitant smile makes me want to say so many things. I want to tell her that we will emerge from this alive. That she doesn't have to worry about Matz, and that I will take care of him, too. That maybe, after this, she and I can be friends, and if she'd let it, maybe something more. But I bite my tongue on that front. Instead, I tell her cheerfully: "I can braid hair, did you know?"

"I don't believe it," says Tara.

I laugh. "No, I swear. Let me show you."

"I don't even know how to braid hair," she admits, embarrassed.

"Let me show you," I say again, still smiling. I reach my hands out for her hair, but she takes a step back.

"You're just going to try to knot it," she accuses, taking another step, as if making to walk away.

I grab her wrist again. "No, honestly," I say earnestly, "I know how to braid hair."

She finally succumbs, taking a seat. I sit down behind her and begin to braid her hair. "I learnt because of Nia. She only has older brothers, so she's never really had a sister to do her hair for her—and she also just had me, you know. A guy best friend. So she made me learn how to do it, and I gradually became better at it."

She hesitates to answer and for a long time, I think she's not going to, but then Tara quietly asked, "Why would you volunteer after she did?"

My fingers freeze for a moment as I process the question, trying to think of why I would. A bit shaken, I stumble with my response: "Uh, it's just a Career thing. It doesn't really matter."

"You don't seem like a Career. Not really."

I am once again taken aback. "But I am."

Then she stops my hands and pulls away, facing me. "So why are you being so nice to me? You know you're going to kill me, or that I'm going to die. You know it's fruitless."

I swallow. Mindlessly I murmur, "Well, maybe I've taken a liking to you, Miss Tara. Maybe I just want to... get to know you while I can."

Tara looks both confused and insulted. She shakes her head at me, almost rolling her eyes as she runs away. This time, I don't stop her, because I am so shocked by what she has noticed and pointed out.