~Sketching Out Our Love~

~Chapter 3~

Hi everyone! Thanks for all the motivation and reviews! I can't believe I got so many, and with only three chapters! You guys seriously make my day! Don't forget to leave a review, even if it's just a smiley face. :)

I am looking for a beta! :) If you are interested, please let me know through review or PM.

-My only requirements are that you have to be really good with grammar and able to proofread and get it back to me in about two days. You also have to be on here quite a bit, and ready to come up with some ideas when I am having writer's block. :)

Buckle up, this is a long one! Enjoy!

~Peeta POV~

I've always been an artist.

My hand was unconsciously drawing, without any permission from my brain. Perhaps I should be doing my history assignment, or lifting weights to get ready for this Friday's game. But I couldn't find the point in doing those things. So, I found myself drawing in my room.

When I first start a picture, I always have no idea what the finished product will look like. My hand works of its own accord, adding a line here, or a blob of color there. The process is relaxing and uplifting.

I paused my hand for a moment, looking at the scene before me. The background was one of a park, with a bench off to the side. On the bench, I had begun to trace out the shape of a girl. My finger instinctively traced the slender body of the girl. Even though it was only half-finished, there was no mistaking her.

Katniss. Of course I drew Katniss.

I had a way of drawing my innermost thoughts. The feelings that I won't let myself admit have a strange way of appearing on paper without my consent. It's almost as if my hand has a mind of its own.

I stared down at the Katniss I've drawn, drinking in her every feature. I shaded her eyes, drawing the exact shape of her piercing grey eyes. I let her hair cascade freely down her shoulders in soft waves. It occurred to me that I've never seen Katniss with her hair down. Her head was cocked slightly to the side in my drawing, as if she was deep in thought. Her grey eyes were glassy and staring at something far in the distance.

Strangely enough, drawing Katniss made me even more attracted to her. My heart was thumping, and I felt like a small child who had been caught doing something wrong. I felt like drawing Katniss was somehow wrong. I don't think she'd be pleased to find out I draw her. But I was too obsessed with her to care at the moment.

Now that I had let myself admit it, I knew what I felt for Katniss. It was a feeling that was much deeper than anything I'd ever felt for Glimmer. Glimmer had been an infatuation, but my obsession with her had long faded.

I was hopelessly in love with Katniss. I just couldn't stop thinking about her.

"So, who's this, Peeta?" A voice above my head inquired. "Don't tell me you're drawing Glimmer again!"

I jumped at the sound of Prim's voice. I had been so deeply engrossed in my drawing that I hadn't even noticed her walk into my room.

I made a last minute attempt to desperately cover the paper with my arm, but Prim snatched it out of my grasp.

"Give it back, Prim. Now." I demanded. She ignored me, and studied the drawing intensely.

"This isn't Glimmer," Prim said softly as she took a seat beside me. She studied the drawing closely, her blue eyes narrowed in concentration.

"No," I agreed softly. "It's definitely not Glimmer."

Over the years, Prim had become my close confident. After Rye had proved to be an insensitive brother, Prim and I had gotten close. I told her everything; she was the best secret-keeper in the world. And what's better, she always understood and had the best advice. In return, she told me everything. We were as close as brother and sister could be.

"Peeta?" Prim pushed gently. "Tell me."

I sighed deeply, and looked Prim right in her sky blue eyes. "Her name is Katniss. She sits next to me in English, and is in a couple more of my classes. She's very quiet and sullen most of the time. But when she smiles, the whole world seems to light up. She has an… effect on me."

"Does she like you too?" Prim asked me eagerly. I could see the way her mind was thinking. She thought we were a romantic and adorable couple-in-the-making, when that couldn't be further from the truth.

"No," I replied honestly. "I feel like she's… lost someone though." I explained. I don't know why, but this idea had stuck in my mind. Katniss acted like she was mourning sometimes.

"What makes you say that?" Prim questioned as she pulled her blonde hair into a messy bun atop her head.

"Well, on the first day of school, she was tracing the initials GH," I began. Prim rolled her eyes, but I held my hands up to tell her to let me continue. "And I've been asking her whose initials she was tracing every day. But today, I asked if it was a secret lover, and she started crying."

"You made her cry?" Prim groaned in disappointment. "You are such a turnoff, Peeta!"

"I didn't mean to!" I retorted, getting on the defensive. "She just started tearing up!" Now I was getting annoyed with both Katniss and Prim.

"Yeah, whatever, you're clueless, Peeta," Prim rolled her eyes. "She's obviously broken up with someone very special recently, and you are being so insensitive."

"How am I being insensitive?" I snapped at Prim. Here she is, acting all wise, and she hasn't even met Katniss!

'Stop asking her who she was dating!" Prim yelled back in exasperation.

So, what should I be doing differently then?" I tried to ignore the fact that I was frantic enough to be asking my fifteen year old sister for help.

"Be her friend." Prim responded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "She needs a friend, someone to lean on."

"How do I do that?" I questioned again. I was hanging onto Prim's every word now. Prim seemed to sense my desperation, because she giggled before replying.

"Get to know her."

"Prim! Peeta! Dinner's ready!" Mom yelled up the stairs. Prim and I both got up simultaneously, and Prim returned the drawing to me.

"She's very beautiful." Prim said softly once she'd handed the drawing back. "It looks like she'll be worth your time."

As always, Prim hit home. How was she so in-tuned to my feelings? It's like she could read my mind.

"You have no idea." I sighed as I followed her down the stairs, my leaden legs protesting. Coach Boggs had made us run three miles at football practice, and I was sore all over.

Mother had made my favorite, lamb stew. The smell of the stew made my stomach rumble in anticipation. The sight of Father and Rye sitting at the table made my appetite fade away in a moment, though.

"Hi, Dad." I muttered as I took a seat beside Rye. "Hey, Rye."

Dad muttered a greeting in response, and returned to his newspaper. Rye didn't even acknowledge my presence. Prim gave me an understanding smile as she set the bowl of salad on the table. Once Mother brought out the lamb stew, though, my appetite returned in full force.

Prim took a seat on my other side, as Mother sat next to Father. The meal was mostly a silent affair. All that could be heard was the clinking of spoons and forks as they scraped the plates.

Mother broke the silence when she couldn't seem to stand the tense quiet any longer. "Rye, how's work going?" She asked with forced cheerfulness.

Rye looked up from his plate, and replied, "Very well, Mother. I'm being appointed to Junior Undersecretary next week." His tone was pompous and stuffy, and I held back the laughter that was threatening to spill out. Besides me, I could feel Prim shaking with repressed laughter as well.

Mother beamed at him. "I'm so proud of you, Rye! Barlee, aren't you proud of him?" Mother turned to my father eagerly.

"Yes, I am. He's got a future ahead of him." Father said gruffly. I could tell that he was just itching to add "Unlike Peeta" to the end of that statement.

My father constantly made it known that he liked me the least of his three children. Dad loved Rye because he was his accomplished elder son, following in his footsteps. He -and Mother, for that matter- loved Prim because she was the only girl. Anyways, nobody could hate Prim. She was too lovable. But I was the middle child; no use for anything besides football. I felt like Dad would just disown me if I didn't get a football scholarship for college.

The rest of the meal went in silence. Prim and I helped Mother clean up, and I took the trash out. When I came back inside, I was informed by Prim that Rye had left because he was "busy," and Dad was upstairs in his study. It was typical of them, and I was not surprised.

Prim washed the dishes while I dried them. "He thinks he's all grown-up." She muttered under her breath in an annoyed tone. "Junior Undersecretary, blah, blah, blah…"

I chuckled at her mumbling as I dried the salad bowl. "He'll come out of it, Prim."

"Yeah, whatever, he's even more hopeless than you." She said with a sly smile my way.

"Whatever."

"Peeta, come on!" Glimmer purred at me like an overgrown cat, dragging me by the arm. She had a surprisingly strong grip.

"Coming, babe, coming," I moaned as I followed Glimmer to our lunch table. Even from this distance, I could see Clove all over Cato, and Marvel eyeing the approaching Glimmer with lust in his eyes.

You can have her, Marvel, seriously. Just get her away from me.

"Glimmer, one second, I forgot the ketchup." I yanked my arm out of her vice-like grip with some level of difficulty, and headed back to the lunch line to grab some ketchup.

As I was walking back to where Glimmer was surrounded by her equally stupid friends, I spied a dark haired girl sitting all alone at the end of the cafeteria. In a split second, I made up my mind. Nobody at that table would miss me. Cato and Clove were locked in their own little world, Glimmer was talking with her clique, and Marvel was ogling Glimmer.

Get to know her. I remembered Prim's words from the previous afternoon.

I walked across the cafeteria, heading towards the table Katniss sat at all alone. No one minded me as I strode past their tables; everyone was engrossed in their own conversations.

I sat down opposite Katniss casually, like I did this every day, and smiled at her. She just stared at me in surprise, until she got her voice back. "Hi, Peeta." She averted her eyes from me. I didn't miss that they were red and puffy. Nonetheless, I was encouraged.

Well, at least she didn't make me leave yet. And she even said "hi!" That's a first.

"Hey, Katniss." I replied, smiling easily at her. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

She just shrugged her shoulders. I felt my heart break a little for her. The fiery Katniss I had met on the first day of school was long gone. In her place was a broken, quiet girl. I found that I preferred fiery Katniss to depressed Katniss.

If I could get my hands on the boy who broke your heart I'd rip him piece to piece.

She chewed her apple mechanically, and started to get up from the table. Before I knew what I was doing, I was reaching out to her. My hand gripped her wrist firmly, and Katniss jumped at the unexpected contact. Her skin felt good under my hand, surprisingly soft and warm.

"Stay, please." I begged her. Katniss looked at me, and something in her deadened grey eyes shifted. She yanked her arm out of my grasp, and sat back down. I couldn't stop the flicker of disappointment I felt as she pulled away.

"I'm not feeling very well today. Leave me alone." She muttered. She stared down at the table, her head in her hands.

"I can help." I replied without thinking. Did I seriously say that out loud? Crap!

"No, you can't. Nobody can." She whispered in a defeated tone. I pushed my burger off to the side, and looked at Katniss. Really looked at her.

Her shiny black hair was matted and dirty. Her olive skin looked pale, and her beautiful grey eyes were bloodshot. She also looked like she had lost quite a bit of weight since the first day I'd seen her.

"Katniss, are you ok?" I asked quietly. Even to me, the concern in my voice was tremendously noticeable.

"Fine." She snapped, some of her old fire returning as she scowled at me. I realized that Katniss was the type of person who would never ask anyone for help, no matter how bad her situation.

Start simple, Peeta.

"Where did you used to live?"

Katniss just looked at me. After several long seconds, she muttered "I don't want to talk." She moved her hands from her chin to the white lunch table.

I sighed. This little conversation wasn't going the way I'd planned at all.

I'd stormed out on her at the park yesterday, and I suddenly felt bad. Had I hurt her feelings? "I'm sorry about yesterday." I started again. "I didn't mean to be rude, but I was exhausted."

Her grey eyes finally met mine. "It's ok. I wasn't trying to be mean either."

"I know you weren't." I sighed. "How about we just forget yesterday?"

"I need to go the library." She suddenly blurted out. She got up, and I grabbed onto her arm firmly again. She winced, and I realized that I must be cutting her circulation off.

"Sorry. Just wait one second." I reached into my backpack, grabbed a pen, and ripped the top of my Math homework off. In a quick scrawl, I wrote out my phone number, and handed it to Katniss. "Here, have this." I told her.

"Thanks, but I don't need it." She sighed, but took it from me and slipped it in her pocket all the same.

"Just in case." I whispered softly. She turned away from me and walked out of the cafeteria briskly, but I didn't miss the tears that fell down her cheeks.

"Mellark, put some effort into it!" Coach Boggs yelled at me as I paused for a moment from my training.

"Yes, sir," I gasped out, trying to find my breath. I'd been bench pressing for what seemed like ages, and I felt like I was dying. Cato, beside me, was doing 220 and not even breaking a sweat. He gave me a sidelong glance, and snickered openly as he mouthed, What, is 200 too heavy?

I ignored him. I've done more than 220 several times, but I wasn't in the mood today. The image of Katniss's broken hearted face kept invading my mind, distracting me from the trivial matter of football practice.

"Ok, that's enough weights for today." Coach Boggs announced in his booming voice. Boggs was a war veteran, and he was absolutely brutal. The war experience had really rubbed off on him, and he treated us like soldiers. It was horrible to have him as my coach. "Let's go outside and go for a quick run!"

A quick run meant three miles in Coach Bogg's world. I despised running. I'm not built for endurance, but for strength. That's why I was a linebacker, and not a quarterback.

Thirty minutes later, I emerged from the locker room sticky and exhausted. I walked to my old red Chevy pickup, enjoying the cool breeze on my sweaty face. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out eagerly. For some reason, I half expected it to be Katniss. Disappointment rushed through me as I saw my mother's number. I opened her text, and once I'd read it, wished I hadn't.

Peeta, I need you to close the bakery tonight. Rye is busy with work, and Thresh is too sick to stay longer. I'm sorry.

This day is just getting worse and worse as it goes on.

My parents owned a bakery not far from the park I saw Katniss at yesterday, and I usually spent my Saturdays there if I didn't have football practice. I usually never went into the bakery on a school day, but today, of all days, was the exception, because Rye was too lazy to come over. Thresh, a quiet black teenager who had been abandoned by his parents, was our employee. Thresh was a hard, honest worker, trying to get enough money together to go to college.

I texted Mom back, and said Ok, I'll go. Seriously, what choice did I have? Rye wouldn't come in today if my life depended on it.

Her response came back moments later. Thanks. How was school?

Exhausting.

Mom: Ready for tomorrow's game?

Yeah, I guess so.

Mom: Good. See you tonight.

Bye.

When I arrived at the bakery five minutes later, I found Thresh sitting on the stool behind the register looking like he was already half-asleep. "Hey, Thresh." I pulled a spare apron on, and tied the back.

"Hi, thank you." Thresh mumbled. Thresh was a person of very little words, and getting a full sentence out of him was difficult at best.

"No problem, Thresh. You look tired." I leaned against the counter, and ran a hand through my sweaty hair.

"You too." Thresh looked up at me, taking in my sweaty and bedraggled state.

"Yeah, football practice does that." I said with a heavy sigh.

"So do girls." He replied, arching an eyebrow at me expectantly.

Was it that obvious?

I reached inside the bread display, and pulled out three loaves of bread that I placed in a bag. "Here, take these." I handed the bag of bread to Thresh.

"No, Peeta, I'm fine" Thresh protested. I pushed the bag toward him, but he took it from me all the same. "Thanks." He grunted as he opened the front door and left. I stared at Thresh's retreating form in shock. That was officially the longest, most meaningful conversation I had ever had with him.

I yawned loudly, and slumped forward in my seat. I could already tell that today was a slow day, and I probably wouldn't have very many customers.

Maybe Katniss will stop by… No, that's just wishful thinking on my part.

Fuck you, Rye. I'd like to see you run three miles and lift weights for an hour and then come work at the bakery!

"Hi, can I have four loaves of bread please?" A soft female voice asked me from the front of the store.

"White or wheat?" I asked politely, the way my mother had taught me years ago.

"Two of each, please." She replied in the same gentle tone. As I was getting the bread she had requested, the woman glanced at the many varieties of cookies we had on display.

"Do you make these cookies?" She asked in an amazed tone. "They are beautiful!"

"Yes, I make the cookies at the bakery." I replied, smiling proudly at her.

"Can I have two of the sugar cookies and two of the chocolate ones?" She requested, pointing at each through the glass. "My daughter Katniss used to love cookies."

I almost sent the whole row of cookies to the floor in my shock. "Katniss Everdeen?"

Katniss's mother looked up at me in surprise. "Do you know her?"

"Yeah, she's in my English class." I replied as I looked at Katniss's mother. She didn't look a thing like Katniss, with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and fair complexion. She was dressed in nurse slacks, and looked to be in her late forties.

I handed her the two bags, one with the cookies, and the other with the bread. "Six dollars please." I requested . Mrs. Everdeen dropped the bills in my hand, and I stuffed them in the register.

"What's your name?" She asked me with a small smile. She looked at me incredulously, like she couldn't believe that anyone at school took notice of Katniss.

"Peeta Mellark. Tell Katniss I said hi." I said through my nerves.

"I sure will. Thanks for the cookies, Peeta." She adjusted her purse on her shoulder, and held the bags of food more tightly.

"Thank you. I hope she likes them."

"I'm sure she'll love them. She hasn't had much to be happy about these past couple of months." Her comment piqued my interest. What had happened to Katniss? I made a mental note to tell Prim about this conversation. Mrs. Everdeen's words were the only things I could think of for the rest of the day.

The rest of the day was very quiet. A couple of customers walked in, but otherwise I had nothing to do but ponder Mrs. Everdeen's words. Thank goodness I didn't have to do any baking today, or I might accidentally burn the bakery up in flames because I was so tired and distracted.

My phone buzzed in my pocket again at around eight, and I pulled it out with a certain amount of annoyance. The only person I could think of who would text me at this time of the day was Glimmer, or Prim. No doubt Prim wanted to know if I had taken her advice and talked to Katniss.

I saw it was none of the above people when I stared at the screen. The number was unfamiliar to me, but it had the New York area code, 212. I opened the message curiously, not daring to even hope it was Katniss.

Thanks for the cookies. They're delicious.

I stared at the screen for a solid minute before the words made any sense in my head. I just couldn't believe that Katniss had texted me. I couldn't be more excited if I had won a million dollars.

I replied in an instant. You're welcome.

It was a full ten minutes before she responded again. I was afraid she didn't want to talk to me, and I felt disappointment and anxiety rush through me for those ten long minutes. When my screen lit up again, I felt my heart skip a beat.

I ate them all, they were that good.

Well, the cookies put her in a good mood. Now she wants to have a conversation with me. It must be the sugar, I decided.

Don't worry, I'll get you some more.

Katniss: No, you don't have to do that!

Yes, I do, and I will.

Katniss: Ok then, bye for now.

I felt my heart sink. Was I so boring that she didn't even want to talk to me?

Ok, bye. I was about to hit "send" when I got an idea on the spot. Will you come to the first football game of the year tomorrow? I've been practicing like crazy. Then I hit "send" before I could chicken out and erase it.

Her response came back a couple of minutes later. I'll try to.

I felt an unexplainable happiness rise up inside me. She said maybe, Peeta. She didn't say she'll come for sure, so calm down!

But I couldn't stop the giddy feelings rushing through my body. I felt like a kindergartener all over again.

By the time I had closed the door of the bakery for the night, I was grinning like an idiot. All of my previous exhaustion and aches from practice were long forgotten, and I found that I couldn't sit still anymore for the life of me. Instead, I started bouncing around the bakery like a small overly excited child.

Right before I left the bakery, I took a sugar cookie and a peanut butter cookie out of the display. I slipped them in a small white bag, and smiled. I'd give them to Katniss tomorrow at lunch.

"There are people in the crowds today in charge of the football scholarships," Coach Boggs thundered. "So don't screw up, because they're watching you!"

No pressure, Peeta. There are complete strangers watching your every move. No pressure at all.

We started to line up, ready to head out to the field. Cato was at the head of the line, because he was the star quarterback and captain. I was a couple of people behind him, and my nerves were mounting. I always felt slightly nauseous before a football game. The idea of 200 plus pound guys charging at me wasn't the most reassuring of thoughts.

The announcer called our names out as we headed out to the center of the field. I vaguely heard my name over the screams of the crowd "And, number 44, Peeta Mellark, center linebacker!"

As the Pledge of Allegiance came on, I scanned the crowds for Katniss. I saw Glimmer easily, wearing one of my old jerseys, and holding a sign that said I love Peeta!

Seriously? I'm going to have to do something about that Monday. That's so disgusting….

Before I could attempt to find Katniss, I was being shoved into position. For the first half hour, we were on the offense, so there wasn't much for me to do but run around a bit. Independence wasn't the strongest of teams; they had been on the offense all game.

I used the opportunity to try to find Katniss's familiar black hair in the stadium. I guess I must have zoned out of the game for longer than I thought, because the right linebacker, Brutus, was yelling at me.

"Peeta! What are you doing?" Brutus, the right linebacker, shouted at me. "Stop looking at Glimmer!"

I wanted to protest, and tell him I wasn't staring at Glimmer. Instead, I said, "Sorry, I got distracted."

"Yeah, I have to tell Glimmer no more posters." Brutus muttered. "But she's so dumb that I don't know if she'll understand."

I wanted to laugh, but I managed to restrain myself. "No posters would be great." I replied instead.

Brutus ignored me, his focus back on the game. We were doing well, two touchdowns already, courtesy of Cato. He'd get that scholarship for sure.

My eyes drifted to the stands again. I saw the profile of a girl holding a soda cup climb up the steps, and sit in an empty row all by herself. She had dark hair that had been pulled into a ponytail, and smooth olive skin. I felt a jolt of excitement race through me. Katniss had come!

Her grey eyes met mine, and I gave her a tentative smile. Even from this distance, I saw her smile back and wave. That was the second time I'd seen Katniss smile today. The first time had been at lunch, when I handed her the cookies. Giddy excitement rushed through me and I suddenly felt light-headed. If looking at Katniss had such an effect on me, what would kissing her do to me?

"PEETA! Watch out!" I snapped out of my daydream at Brutus's frantic warning. I just saw a huge Independence player clad in red rush at me. Before I could so much as move as move a muscle, he crashed into me and we both tumbled to the ground.

I lay there, trying to remember how to breathe. "Peeta, are you ok?" Brutus came and knelt at my side, looking down at me in concern.

I nodded my head, and became aware of a throbbing pain rushing through my ankle and up my leg. It was agonizing, and it was all I could do to not moan out loud.

"Peeta, talk to me." Coach Boggs appeared at my other side.

"My ankle." I gasped out. "The left one."

Coach tried to take my shoe off, but I protested. "Stop…"

"Peeta, what the hell were you doing anyways? How did you not see him?" Brutus asked.

"I wasn't looking at him." I said truthfully. I omitted the part about looking at Katniss instead.

Once Coach Boggs managed to get my shoe and socks off, he probed at my ankle lightly. "It's just a sprain, Peeta." He announced in a relieved tone.

"Great." I muttered. I chanced a look up at Katniss. She was staring down at me in horror, but I smiled weakly up at her. She just shook her head, and turned away from me.

I hobbled off the field, and sat down on a bench as Coach pressed some ice to my ankle. "You'll be fine." He said gruffly. "I'm more concerned about the scholarship."

Oh, crap, I forgot about that. Dad will be furious if I don't get that scholarship.

"Sorry, Coach." I sighed as the ice effectively numbed the pain away.

I spent the rest of the game in a haze of pain. When Cato had finally scored the last touchdown, and the whistle blew, I sighed in relief. The final score was 49 for us, 14 for Independence. We had won by a landslide. If it weren't for me, it would've been a perfect game for us too. I'm sure Cato will give me hell on Monday for messing up his perfect game.

A head of blonde hair came crashing into me. Prim buried her head in my chest, and babbled on incoherently about how worried she had been about me. It took a solid five minutes to get a full sentence out of her.

"It's ok, Prim, it's just my ankle." I soothed her gently. Prim was the most compassionate person in the world. She couldn't even stand to see a bug get hurt.

"Peeta, I called Mom." Prim finally managed. "Are you ok? That was a bad hit!"

"I'm fine, Prim." I sighed. "Why did you call Mom?"

"I don't think you can drive, Peeta!" She scanned my face anxiously. "You look drunk!"

"Feel like it too." I muttered under my breath. Prim didn't hear me, thankfully.

Coach wrapped my ankle in a brace. "Can you walk?" Prim asked me worriedly .

"Yeah." I got to my feet, and hobbled painfully with Prim's help to the parking lot. Mother pulled in right as we reached the pick-up zone, and I got in the car thankfully. My ankle now felt like it was on fire. "Peeta, are you alright?" She asked once I'd gotten in.

Dad wasn't in the car, to my great relief. I dint want him finding out about this yet. He'd blow up on me.

"Yeah, I'm fine." I replied with a sigh. "I'm fine" had become my phrase of the night.

I just rolled my eyes, and dropped my phone in my lap. My mother obsessed over me endlessly, and insisted that we stop at the Urgent Care. We ended up sitting in the waiting room for an hour before my name was called.

My phone buzzed. I hoped it was Katniss, but when I opened it I saw Glimmer's number.

Peeta, r u ok, I was so worried!

I sighed as I hit the respond button. I decided to keep it short, and make an excuse to not text her. Fine, Glim. I'm at Urgent Care, text you when I get home.

Her response was instantaneous. I'll be waiting, don't forget!

Yeah, whatever. I'll just tell her the Urgent Care gave me too much drugs and knocked me out.

"Peeta Mellark!" A nurse with a kind, heart-shaped face called out.

I got to my feet, and limped into the room after Mother and Prim. She had insisted on accompanying me inside, and Prim hated to be left out of anything.

The nurse examined my ankle closely. "It seems to be a light sprain, but I'll have the doctor come take a look just in case." She left the room, saying the doctor would be there in a couple of minutes.

My phone buzzed yet again as we sat waiting for the doctor. If it wasn't Katniss, then I wouldn't respond. I pulled it out, and read the text.

Katniss: Are you ok?

I'm fine, really. Don't worry.

Katniss: You were limping on the field.

Just a sprain. I'll be fine by Monday.

She stopped texting me after that, but I felt strangely satisfied with her texts. Katniss cared about me. If a sprained ankle got this kind of response out of her every time, I'd sprain my ankle every day.

Maybe there was a real chance for us. And maybe, just maybe, Katniss felt something for me too.

I don't know much about American football, so forgive me for my bad description of the game. But if you think about it, it wasn't about the game so much as the consequences.

Don't forget to review! I really want to know what you all were thinking. I know people are reading this; I see the stats. Just give me thirty seconds; I spend a lot of effort writing. We were just shy of 100 reviews with the last chapter. :)