The Hunger Games Trilogy

It takes ten times as long to put yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

“Not on purpose. Doesn’t seem fair somehow. I mean, we would have both been dead, too, if she hadn’t eaten the berries first.”

I try another tactic. “What if you climbed up in a tree and acted as a lookout while I hunted?” I say, trying to make it sound like very important work.

“What if you show me what’s edible around here and go get us some meat?” he says, mimicking my tone.

I could swear he’s making an effort to snap every branch we encounter.

Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...”

“I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush.

Something about me... no competition... best thing that ever happened to you...”

“I don’t remember that last part,” I say, hoping it’s too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush.

She stood you up on a stool and had you sing it for us. And I swear, every bird outside the windows fell silent,” Peeta says.

“Oh, please,” I say, laughing.

“No, it happened. And right when your song ended, I knew—just like your mother—I was a goner,” Peeta says.

“He said, ‘See that little girl? I wanted to marry her mother, but she ran off with a coal miner,’” Peeta says.

This is the first kiss where I actually feel stirring inside my chest. Warm and curious. This is the first kiss that makes me want another.

I’m about to leave when I remember the importance of sustaining the starcrossed lover routine and I lean over and give Peeta a long, lingering kiss.