Clove's POV
"Hand-to-hand combat." The instructor announces as we all gather in a circle during training one day. "Groups of two."
He runs through every group, assigning each of us a partner.
"And our last group, Clove Kentwell and Cato Hadley." Cato Hadley, my friend, training partner, and competition. He is one year older and towers over my petite 5'4 frame at 6'4. We may tease each other, but we are probably the best team of two in the entirety of District Two.
Cato catches my eye and shoots me a wink, causing me to roll my eyes. We are the last group to step into the fighting circle.
"You ready to lose to me Kentwell?" He asks smugly.
"In your dreams pretty boy." I scoff, grinning maliciously.
He lunges at me, but I dodge, spinning around to throw a punch at his gut. After about ten minutes, I'm sure that I'm going to win. When I think he's not paying attention, I attempt to tackle him. But at the last second, he turns and grabs my arms, twisting them so that I can't get free from his grasp. We are so close that I can feel his breath hot on my forehead.
"I win." He whispers, tauntingly pulling me closer, "impressed?"
He bends down to lay a kiss on my cheek but I twist my head so he misses. When he pulls back, his eyes shine with rejection.
"What's wrong Hadley?" Oh, how I love teasing him. I stand on the tips of my toes and press my lips to his. He responds enthusiastically. While I've got him distracted and off-guard, I tug my arms out of his grip, push him to the ground, and sit on his chest.
"Correction," I reply, pinning his hands with my shoes. "I win."
"Ok, ok." He relents. "I'm impressed."
YOU ARE READING
A Series of Clato One Shots and Short Stories
FanfictionJust a whole bunch of Clato stories. Modern day AU's, alternate endings, and life before the arena stories. Disclaimer: The concept of The Hunger Games and the characters included in it are not mine. All credit for the story goes to Suzanne Coll...
