Star Crossed Lovers (Clove And Cato Book 2)

28. After all this time.

Hello there my dears, just before you read I’m quite down at that the last chapter only had one comment on it (well 2 from 3disneygirls, thank you so very much!) and basically first to comment here wins the dedication! Thanks still for all the support I’m getting. Clove And Cato is nearly on 4,000 reads! Holy Timoli! OK better let you read xx

28.

I feel so isolated stuck in my room, again. Plutarch said we would reach 2 soon, and as we draw closer I can’t help but feel tingly and sick to the bone. I know it’s the night time now, as Sedrya comes in with a warm jacket and goggles. Sitting cautiously on my bed, she helps me up.

“We’ve arrived,” is all she mutters and without further explanation she dresses me and leads me out. For all I know Snow could be getting ready to attack my home, and then where would we be? Bomb shelled out of the sky? Plutarch greets me immediately, a coffee cup wrapped in one hand and his free one in his hair, worried looking.

“Clove, we’re actually just about to enter District 2 now, nice timing.” He comments making Sedrya (behind me) blush. I nod my head trying to not scream at him.

“Well when you have Sedrya on a schedule, you defiantly get on it.” I declare and Plutarch bellows out a laugh so loud I rush to shield my ear drums.

“Sorry, I laugh a lot,” Plutarch says and I finally take out my fingernails from my sore ears. Plutarch, now embarrassed, pretends that someone else needs his attention and excuses himself. I stand still, Sedrya still at my heels, as she tries to tame my knots that have recently sprung in my hair.

From all that she’s been through, she still insists that I look my best.

“Even as their ‘gladiator’ you must look your best. They won’t bother looking at you if you don’t.” Sedrya hisses and continues killing my scalp as I pout and stamp down my foot behaving just like a four year old. No offence to four year olds, I’m sorry if there was some taken. . .

“You look . . . unprepared.”

Even with my back to him I know its Cato. His cheeky remark sends me spinning on my heels and (causing a shriek from the bemused Sedrya) facing Cato. He looks tired, with bruises lined under his eyes and his hair knotted and twisted at the end.

“You look . . . not like Cato,” It’s a true remark. Usually Cato would be getting ready for all hours until he looked . . . well. . . ‘Handsome’. Appearance to Cato, matters a lot to him.

“You’re OK then, you’ve recovered.” He sniffs and laughs. Sedrya know done with my hair, bustles off muttering to herself something along the lines of ‘Ungrateful . . . should’ve taken Snow’s side . . .’

Cato laughs uneasily and brushes a hand through his shaggy hair and lays his eyes on me, throwing me off balance.

“I’m nervous,”

I remember the last time we were both nervous, the Tribute Parade. It seems like donkeys years ago, but in reality it was only last year.

“So am I, for once.” I laugh and we lock eyes for a long moment.

“We can do this, you know.”

I do know, I’m not exactly peeing my pants now going ‘oh gosh I’m so nervous get me out of here!’ now am I?

He wraps me in a warm, gentle hug that sends shivers down my spine.

“Whatever happens I love you,” Cato says pressing his lips to mine. The kiss is short, and special. Every kiss with him is, as we break apart I wink at him.