Author's Note: I know, I know. My last chapter was a drab. It's hard writing a transition when you want to get to the good part! Damn it. I hate myself. And I should really study for APs. Maybe on my Euro test they'll ask me a question about revolutions and I can talk about Panem….and get a 0.

Excuse Cato's cursing, but I always imagined he would…I mean, it fits his character. This chapter isn't that great, either, but it's the best I could manage while studying, haha.

Like always, read and review! Comments are very much appreciated :)

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A few months later (after the reapings)

Cato poured himself a glass of pinot noir as he sat down on the couch next to Clove, who was sandwiched in between him and their mentors this year, Brutus and Enobaria. Cato was thankful that he already knew the two—he much preferred them as his mentors over his brother. The reruns of the reapings were being played on the television that was attached to the wall, and everyone was watching attentively as Caesar Flickerman narrated the events.

"You know, Claudius, District 1 and 2 are the heavy favorites this year," Claudius said to his fellow commentator and host, Claudius Templesmith, causing Cato to roll his eyes. As if that was a surprise.

When he saw the District 1 tributes, he wasn't too worried. Though both of them were volunteers, they seemed no match for Cato. The boy, Marvel, seemed intelligent and agile but when it came to sheer strength, he would undoubtedly lose. The girl would be an easy target—she was incredibly attractive and had golden hair, and looked pretty stupid to begin with. And on top of all that, her name was Glimmer. Who the fuck names their kid Glimmer? hethought. "These are our competition?"

Clove jabbed him in the ribs. "Don't underestimate, Cato. And why the hell are you drinking wine?"

"I'm an alcoholic, I've been partying with Haymitch for the past few years," the blond-haired boy answered sarcastically. "Lay off, Clover, it's not like I'm going to get drunk or anything." He'd started drinking a few months ago. It was relaxing, but Cato wasn't irresponsible with it.

Clover let out a sigh of frustration. "Look! There's us!" She pointed at the screen again.

Cato knew he looked good. When that kid's name had been called, he rushed forward and volunteered. Just like his brother had done three years before him. It was expected, and his entire family was in tears. Not of sadness, of course. Of joy and pride. Clove's family looked equally as happy, as her father grinned at seeing his daughter walk onto the stage. The Games were so much different in District 2 than the others.

The rest of the tributes followed, as Cato and Clove gave commentary on who looked weaker or stronger. The little girl from 11 broke Cato's heart—she couldn't have been older than 12, and of course, being from the poorer districts meant that it was less likely for someone to volunteer. She had dark skin and hair, and probably didn't even come to half of Cato's height. The boy tribute on the other hand, was absolutely massive. He was bigger than Cato, which worried him. But he looked bulkier, while Cato was more toned. When it came down to weaponry, Cato could probably take the guy down—but no doubt, he'd put up a good fight.

"And now, finally, we have District 12."

Cato's thoughts were interrupted as he looked at the district where his best friend lived. He didn't think she would get reaped—there were so many other kids who had to get tesserae in 12. She wasn't the only one. He sat there silently, looking at his now empty wine glass and hoping that he didn't hear her name.

"Primrose Everdeen," he heard Effie Trinket's shrill voice echo.

Cato's head snapped up. Primrose Everdeen. Primrose. Why was that name so familiar?

And then suddenly, he knew.

Prim. Katniss's little sister.

What happened next was a blur—the little girl slowly making her way towards the stage, Katniss calling out her name, a boy around Cato's age picking Prim up, and Katniss yelling the dreaded words at Effie.

"I volunteer! I volunteer as tribute!"

Cato tasted blood in his mouth. He thought he was going to pass out. His breath was short and he couldn't hear anything around him except for the echoing of Katniss's words.

Volunteering as a tribute.

Volunteer.

This cannot be happening.

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The first time he saw her again after the reruns was on the chariots, and she looked absolutely stunning in that—fire costume of hers. The boy next to her, Pita or Peter or some shit like that, couldn't take his eyes off her. Of course, she looked stunning, but he hated the way the boy stared at her. Cato's and Clove's costumes, made of golden armor, dazzled under the lights, but they were no match for the fire costumes. What were they, anyways? District 12 always got the worst costumes, and this was certainly an exception.

The next time Cato saw his old friend was at training. He wanted to muster up the courage to say something to her, but he couldn't. She'd put on this façade, this wall around herself, and she didn't let anyone—especially not the Careers—in. They'd exchanged glances with each other every so often, but nothing more. And Cato desperately wanted to talk to her.

"Whatcha looking at, Cato?" the bubble-headed idiot of a tribute, Glimmer, asked.

Cato quickly tried to come up with a lie. He smirked. "You know, just trying to check out some of the competition. It's interesting to see what the lower districts muster up."

Glimmer traced his bicep with one of her long, nail polish-covered fingers. "Not that you have any competition, right Cato?"

Cato had to admit, he liked the attention he got from Glimmer. And from most of the girls, really. Back at the training center and at school in District 2, he had mobs of girls swooning and chasing after him. But he'd never date her. No, Glimmer was far too stupid for Cato to date. Too girly, too weak. He liked girls like—

"Can you move?" Cato heard a voice disrupt his thoughts.

"Huh?" he looked to his left. Glimmer was now gone, flirting with her district partner, Marvel. He turned around to see Katniss behind him, holding a bow and a sheath full of arrows under her arm.

"I said, can you move? Just because you're from 2 doesn't mean this center is just for you, Herrington." Katniss glared at him and spat her last words out in disgust.

Cato, puzzled, stepped back and let her take his spot in front of the dummies and targets. When had Katniss become such a bitch? He knew that she and his brother had broken up, but by the way Reid had talked about it, it wasn't a messy break up or anything like that. In fact, she wanted it—she had said that she just wasn't happy in it.

Cato stepped forward again and rested a hand on his best friend's—well, he guessed, former best friend's—shoulder. "Catnip, when can we talk?"

Frustrated, Katniss turned around and gave Cato a death glare he thought only he was capable of. "About what? About the fact that my sister got reaped, and now I'm stuck in this mess? About how my mentor is a total drunk who doesn't know what he's talking about? About how I'm up against Careers, like you?" She sneered.

"Look, Catnip—"

"Don't call me that."

"Katniss. Look, I'm really sorry this happened to you, but that's not my fault. I felt sincerely sorry for you when Prim got reaped. Can we at least talk or something?" Cato offered.

Katniss laughed, the way a sadistic serial killer would. "Sorry? You Careers, you volunteer because you think it's all fun and games. You enjoy killing other people, you train for it. And for what? So you can become even richer? So you can have fun? I had to volunteer to save my sister from dying at the hands of people like you, Cato. So don't even tell me that you're sorry."

Cato was taken aback. He had to admit, Katniss's words stung. A lot. He did feel bad for her, he truly did—but there wasn't anything he could do about it. "You don't understand, Catnip."

A loud beep sounded in the room, signaling the end of the training session. It was time for interviews tonight, and all the tributes had to be groomed and ready.

"Cato?"

"Yeah?" Cato said, his heart rising a little bit.

Katniss met his blue eyes with stone-cold grey eyes. "Don't talk to me. For my sake, and for yours."

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Cato paced back and forth in his room, putting his hands on his head, kicking some pillows, punching the headboard. He was going to kill him. That—that little son of a bitch. Who did he think he was? He could still hear the disgusting words ringing in his head.

"Because she came here with me."

"She came here with me."

That little fucking son of a bitch. He was Cato's main target, for sure. At least Katniss didn't seem too enthralled by it all, either. In the viewing room, she sat there with her mouth agape and Cato witnessed her ram him into the wall and yell at him until their mentors broke them apart. He had to admit, he was pretty satisfied seeing that mess go down.

He still couldn't believe the nerve of that kid. It was probably an act anyways—just for the sponsors. But what if Katniss actually fell for him? No, she wouldn't be that stupid. Would she?

Cato sat down on his bed. One thing was certain—something he'd known all along, but didn't have the courage to admit it until now.

He was in love with Katniss Everdeen.

Fuck.