𝐆𝐋𝐎𝐑𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐄 ▸ HUNGER GAMES [ 1 ]

TWENTY THREE

TWENTY THREE -

"Clove! Clove!"

I scramble up the bank frantically, clumps of grass coming free in my hands. My heart is threatening to burst from my ribcage. Two victors. Two victors. But that means that....

"Clove! Did you hear that?" Cato's voice calls across the plain, equal parts disbelieving and feverish.

"I heard it! I heard it Cato!" I shout, breaking into a run. He's on the other side of the clearing, edging closer by the second.

"Don't you get what this means?" He cheers.

"It-it means.." I begin, but my voice trails off into nothing as he finally draws near enough for me to see him properly. Every emotion I attempted to dispel in the lake fires back into my brain like bullets. All at once. Catching me completely unawares. With no reason to deny it anymore, the wave crests and crashes over me. The impact is like a stone wagon knocking me off the road.

I love him. I'm in love with Cato Hadley.

"It means we can go home. Both of us." A soft laugh drifts from his lips, eyes wide and astonished. He can't believe it. I can't believe it. We can both make it back to District 2. We can leave the arena, together.

And I love him.

There's only a short, brief moment of hesitation before all rational sense disappears. And then he is pulling me into his arms and his lips are on mine and all the barriers the threat of the arena has managed to build between us come crashing down around our feet. I melt into the kiss without consideration. Damn the Capitol citizens, who liken us to barbarians, praying for the blood we spill, and damn the Hadleys, who wish to be seen as such. Darius, Brutus.

Damn it. Damn all of it.

I presumed Cato would have at least some reservations, but I'm found to be blissfully mistaken. He holds me like I might dissolve into thin air, and kisses ferociously, tongue sliding into my mouth. This is not like our last kiss in the apartment, passionate but sweet. It's rough and messy and I'm burning under his touch. His hands tangle in my hair, still wet and clinging to my skin, and when his nails graze against the back of my neck I gasp against his lips. Desperate and delirious, his kiss makes up for every time we've held back, terrified of the consequences. Every night in the Games spent hoping the final day would never come, and all of a sudden it cannot come fast enough. Now that we can both go home.

When Cato reluctantly pulls away I'm dizzy and breathless, grinning brighter than the moon hanging in the night sky above our heads. His blue eyes are the warmest I've ever seen them, crinkled at the corners as he gazes down at me. "I love you, Clove."

I'm not at all surprised by how incredibly right it feels to say it back.

We stumble back to the dying remains of our fire, laughing and joking like schoolkids. When I sneakily elbow him in the ribs he sweeps me off my feet and throws me over his shoulder, cackling as I beat my fists against his back. Every remaining tribute is probably waiting in the trees to ambush us, and I can't disagree that now would be a perfect time. Acting like lovestruck teenagers for more time than necessary will almost certainly get us killed. Luckily, Claudius Templesmith's lifechanging announcement seems to have also filled us with desire to destroy the opposition as soon as possible.

With only four other tributes left to take down, victory is so close I can taste it. The thought of returning home, with a crown on my head and Cato by my side makes my heart soar. I can picture Loren's face as we step of the train, that knowing smile that tells me she's just waiting for me to admit defeat. That I was wrong, That Cato Hadley was flirting with me at the Academy, the night before the Reaping. Along with every day before that. Of course Loren was right. She always is.