I can still do this

chapter 18

But I do fall asleep, and so does he. We wake up with our hands somehow tangled up together. I feel his breathing change, but he doesn't move for several moments.

"Hi," he says, curling tighter around me for a second, squeezing me tight and then letting go to stretch his arms and legs.

"Hi." I arch my back and let go of him to straighten my arms out, then put them back around him. "We gonna leave, then?"

"Sure."

"Just pack some clothes or something. We don't have closets like that at home."

"Okay."

"We should get up," I observe.

"Yep."

Neither of us moves for a good minute.

"We'll miss the train," he says reluctantly.

Good point. So I get up and get dressed, and then I go into the kitchen to eat food while he changes. I order ridiculously rich things - you only live once, right? And there's none of this at home. Might as well enjoy it.

"You want some of this?" I ask Cato when he comes out with a duffle over his shoulder.

"Not hungry," he shakes his head. So we go.

We don't hold hands, but not because we're angry or anything. Instead, his arm is around my waist, holding me closer than just holding hands would. And we look pretty ridiculous, I'm sure; him with his hood up again, in very comfortable-looking sweats, and me wearing clothes that still aren't quite my size.

We wait on the train platform for a second, and I realize that I'm wearing my father's jacket, but left Cinna's in the apartment. "We have to go back," I say quickly. "I left Cinna's blazer in the-"

He unzips part of the bag, just a few inches, enough for me to see metallic copper. "I've got it," he says. "Don't worry."

"Okay," I say after a second, taken off-guard by his thoughtfulness. "Thanks."

He doesn't answer, just slides his arm down around my waist and tentatively pulls me closer. I let him, leaning into his warm side and trying not to think about how scared and small he was just a few hours ago.

We're not the only passengers on the train. Several district two winners board with us, looking at the two of us with expressions ranging from disgust to amusement, but I don't pay any attention to that. We get two plush seats, looking out the window. I curl up in mine comfortably. He sits down stiffly, but leans towards me. I put my hand near his on the armrest so he can easily reach it if he wants, but he doesn't. Instead, he lightly brushes the back of my hand with his fingertips, just for a second, like he's reassuring myself that I'm here, or real, or something.

"You're sure you want me to come?" he asks.

"Absolutely," I assure him, turning to look him in the eyes so he can tell I'm serious.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I want you there. I mean, if we're going to be... I don't know, whatever we are, then my family has to know you. Which means you have to make a first visit some time."

"Right," he says unenthusiastically. "What'd you tell them about me so far?"

"Well, they don't hate you, if that's what you're thinking."

Judging from his reaction, that's exactly what he was thinking. "How do you know?"

"Because I told them the truth about what happened and they believed me. So just calm down, okay?" If I was someone else, I might've kissed him right then, to shut him up and also just because I want to, but I don't.