(Warning: Sexual themes in this chapter!)
The tributes quickly got ushered off the stage. What a telling moment for the Capitol. All night they act like they love these victors, their pride and joy, but at the end of the day they're tributes again, and no one really cared what happened to them. What really told her that was a peacekeeper pushing Kallan off the stage and on their way down a dark hallway, making her nearly trip in her uncomfortable heels.
"Hey!" She snapped, turning back to him, but her brother had her arm in his hand before she could do anything. "They can't just-"
"I know," Finnick pulled her ahead, and she shook off his arm the first chance she got. Kallan let it roll off her back, which was exposed in this dress. The peacekeeper's touch lingered there in a way that made her feel like exactly what she was. She took a breath, kept walking with Finnick. She looked at the tributes around her. There were 6 ahead of her, they were going in order. But behind them, the districts were getting jumbled. Kallan slowed down, but the peacekeeper was thankfully gone. No one was around to keep her in line. There was only one way to go in this hallway anyway.
"I'll meet you back there," she said to Finnick, who looked at her immediately, not liking the idea he knew was in her head. He stood to the side with her for a moment, districts 5 and 6 passing them.
"This is dangerous, Kallie," he warned, and Kallan just looked up at him.
"Not more than what we're doing tomorrow," she reminded him. He couldn't argue with that, so he found Johanna and started walking with her.
When Kallan found the man she was looking for, she was surprised to see Katniss not with him. Of course she wasn't, she wasn't one of them. She didn't know it, but she wasn't.
Peeta spotted her quickly. His eyes met hers, just as she wanted. "Kallan," he said quietly, and she just turned and started to walk with him.
"Quite the interview," she told him, walking without looking at him.
"Thank you," he nodded. Kallan chuckled under her breath.
"A wedding? A baby?"
He glanced over at her, she saw it out of the corner of her eye.
"No," Peeta said succinctly. "Just saying what I can," he reminded her.
"Yours was definitely the most effective," she muttered. Peeta blew out air.
"We'll see," he muttered.
"Please, Peeta," she rolled her eyes. "They're not canceling the games just because your wife is pregnant," she said. She didn't need to be poking so much fun, but she was frustrated. By what, she didn't know. Perhaps the notion he held that it was possible to cancel the games. Or by the fact that there was another girl supposedly married to the first boy she had an actual crush on. Maybe she was also a little frustrated that she had a crush at all. But Peeta did something she wasn't expecting.
"Kallan," he grabbed her arm. With a bit of force. Not an alarming force, but a strong one. She turned and looked at him instantly, moving a little closer because he didn't give her a choice. She swallowed, trying to hide the alarm on her face. "Will you meet me back here?" He asked quietly, and she could no longer hide her shock, not with him.
"What?" She whispered.
"Meet me back here."
"Here."
He nodded. Here? In this hallway? What for? There was bound to be someone down here who could see them anyway.
"When?"
Peeta breathed out in relief when she agreed.
"Twenty—thirty minutes?" He asked, and Kallan looked at him, then nodded very slightly and quickly. Peeta released her arm, and they both kept walking behind the rest of the tributes. They didn't say a word to each other, but they stood scarily close in the elevator. She didn't look back when she got off on the fourth floor.
It was totally dead quiet when Kallan entered the hallway. Peeta had requested she meet him here and she was already regretting it. She was standing in nearly the exact spot she'd been in when he asked that of her, but she didn't see him anywhere. She sighed, leaning against the wall, starting to feel silly in this dress. It was one of the prettier ones, and it suited her now that she was old enough to wear something like it. She filled it out more now. The heels especially hurt, so as she waited, praying no one would see her, she took them off, holding them in her hand.
Suddenly she nearly dropped them, because exactly when she wasn't looking, she was grabbed by the arm by a passing force and pulled into a nearby closet. She didn't have time to make a sound before she was in a dimly lit closet, less than two feet away from Peeta Mellark.
Not many things took her breath away, not these days. Regardless of how easy she was to scare, it was hard to take away her breath, she held it close to her. But yet, now, in an instant she was breathless.
They'd been close to the stage, where she'd been giving him trouble for what she said in his interview not an hour ago. So the closet he'd stationed them in was full of what was probably clothes if she could see any better. But she was still trying to comprehend the rest of the situation. What was she doing in here, and what was she doing this close to another tribute? A tribute who was, in the eyes of everyone else, married, with a baby on the way. Her heart was pounding, staring at him, at the fact that he was so close to her.
Come on Kallan, you are so much cooler than this.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, and the baker boy just tilted his head.
"I asked you to meet me here," he told her, as if it were that simple. He looked down at her gold shoes in her hand and took them from her, dropping them on the ground.
"Someone very well could've seen us come in here," she said, all sternness, all business. Peeta stepped just a little closer to her, and saw her start to fold. She wished so badly she hadn't. But she'd been staring at him since they were both 17, since she mentored the games he fought in. But she had no chance then, there was Katniss. "Not to mention your wife," she mentioned, and watched, just watched, as Peeta laughed.
"You know perfectly well that she's not my wife," he reminded her, with another step closer. A step that made it clear how heavy she was breathing. She tried to slow it, and cursed herself for not being able to.
"Someone--someone could catch us together, what then?" she reminded him, but for some reason he didn't seem phased. Yes, the plan was to get Katniss out, get them out, so that no one who was guarding the Mockingjay had to die. Then they'd have a chance at a better world. But there were no guarantees. Peeta had too much faith.
"The games," he started, a hand coming to her waist. Oh god that didn't help things. Here he couldn't just see, but feel her breaths. "Start tomorrow. We might die," he said, like it justified what they were doing.
"With that crazy plan? I might have to save your ass, and we might both come out alive," she argued, which wasn't likely, but was a nice way to think about it. Peeta smirked, he smirked at her comment, before he stepped closer.
"Then I'd have more time to do this," he whispered. Kallan gasped, because the last thing she saw was him closing the space, and taking any breath from her lungs. This was not only unexpected, it was the last thing Kallan expected before the games. What's worse is she didn't expect it to feel so good. It was all that she had not to make a sound, a sound she didn't think she'd ever made before. A hum, a moan, at how good it felt to kiss him. She nearly fell to her knees, but with one strong hand on her waist, the other in her hair, he held her up. Both of her hands pressed to the boy's chest, still in his white--wedding--tux. She held him by the lapels, pulling him in in case he dared break away from her.
He did, but only to move even closer. That's when she finally faltered, nearly falling as she tried to pull him in more, but he effortlessly held her up. In the process, her right leg hit his left, and she breathed out.
"Sorry," she whispered, but Peeta, with his face inches from hers, looked confused.
"What for?"
It was Kallan's turn to look confused. She looked from his leg to his face.
"I kicked you."
Peeta tilted his head, giving her an endearing look. He looked at her like she was cute.
"You did?"
"I--" Kallan breathed out. "Yeah."
Peeta smiled, and she nearly felt it because of his proximity to her. But then his hand left her face, and it knocked, twice, on the side of his left leg. It clanged, like metal. The smile on his face grew.
"It's not real," he told her, and she nearly laughed. Which was a terrible, but it came out more like a relieved sigh. "Lost it in the games. Any objections?" he didn't even pretend like he was gonna let her answer, but she managed to briefly shake her head before he was kissing her again. She had no idea Peeta Mellark was so smooth, but she should've guessed. His PR stunt was remarkable, though it hadn't been enough. But this Peeta, this was something else.
Her arms came up to his neck, resting on his shoulders, holding on to him. His hands slipped onto her back, some of it exposed from the way the dress worked. His skin pressed to hers, his fingers trailing down her spine made her breath even heavier. She moved her lips just millimeters off his.
"Why are you doing this?"
"Cause I want to," he muttered, kissing the space beside her lips, her cheek, her jaw. While that sounded familiar, because lots of people did things with Kallan because they wanted to, it was still so totally different. Every touch was different, every kiss intentional. He answered her question like she thought he didn't want to, like she thought she wasn't worthy of it. Which, maybe she did. She'd never been kissed by someone with as good a heart as Peeta Mellark. His kiss moved gently up her jaw, to her ear, and she felt her knees buckling again.
"Peeta," she breathed. Was it a question, was it out of bliss, was she asking him to stop, she really didn't know.
"Yeah, sweetheart?"
That didn't help. She swallowed hard, knowing he could probably feel the heat coming off her ears as they turned red.
"We," he brushed her hair back. "We can't keep doing this," she said, which made his hand fall. He took it off of her. But he kept one on her waist, which was good, because she thought if he moved it she'd hit the floor immediately.
"Oh, okay," he said quickly, which caused Kallan to realize the implications of what she'd just said.
"Oh," she said even faster, "no, we can't keep doing this here," she watched as the boy began to smile. Was she implying what he thought? Yes she was. She could hardly believe it either, after 3 years at the Capitol was she really suggesting they go find a place to have sex? But he'd already shown her how different he was, she wanted more of that. She wanted this kind of delicate, sweet, unselfish touch that he was giving her.
He fought his smile, but it didn't work.
"Uh," he cleared his throat. "Either of our quarters are probably fair game, I don't think they could see us there," he said, coming a little closer again, his fingers brushing her hair. He saw her start to smile, and he didn't see her smile a lot. His breath came out too quickly when he saw it.
"I'm watched like a hawk," she told him.
"The Capitol keeps that close an eye?" he asked, as she felt him push her hair behind her ear.
"Finnick does."
Peeta stopped, obviously not stopping to consider that. He looked like he was thinking about it pretty hard.
"They do keep that close an eye on Katniss, though," he whispered, and Kallan closed her eyes briefly.
"Right. Mine."
How they'd both managed to get back there in one piece and without being spotted was some kind of miracle. Unless the Capitol was rooting for this infidelity, it shouldn't have been possible.
But here they were, in her room on the fourth floor, no sound except the Capitol cheers, like a tsunami four stories down, and the waterfall rushing in the corner. Peeta looked around the room, almost missing Kallan coming over to him, and putting a hand on his chest. The touch brought him back. He looked at her, at her almost-smile. Her hand slowly moved up to his shoulder, his neck, his sandy blonde hair, only a few shades lighter than her own. And he let her kiss him again. He let her make that decision, pulling him in. He didn't even touch her again yet, because this was different than a scandalous little closet.
She backed him up as she kissed him, as his hands slowly moved to her. To the sides of her thighs, her hips, then her waist. His legs got stopped against her bed, and without missing a beat, without separating their lips, he took her by the waist with his strong hands, and held her up as he sat back on her bed, then set her back down on his lap, with a leg on either side of him. He felt her smile without being able to see it, her kiss different because of it. Her legs became slightly bare, as the dress she'd been in had two slits in the front, and they poked out from this position. That's where his hands found themselves, on her beautiful bare thighs, pulling her slightly closer to him. Underneath her she could finally feel the prosthetic, one of his legs a bit more solid against hers, but it wasn't uncomfortable. His chin tilted up to kiss her, his right hand coming to cup her face, hold her jaw, her cheek, and his left slipping a little ways under her thigh. Her hands moved to his lapels, to begin to take off his suit jacket, which he let her do, letting it fall onto the floor. Her hands held his biceps through his shirt, wanting to feel just how strong he was.
When his lips moved from her lips to her neck, her hands squeezed his biceps just a little, and she could feel his smirk against her skin. She shook her head at him teasingly, but he just came up to her lips once more.
"This is," he said, between kisses, "a beautiful dress." What a strange compliment to get when she was sitting on top of him.
"Thank you, I like it," she whispered in return, trying not to keep her lips off his for too long. She wanted to memorize them, burn his kiss into her head in case she didn't make it tomorrow. He pulled back, to her dismay, holding her face with a small amount of force.
"It'd look prettier on the floor," he said, and that did it. She let out the softest sound, a sound she didn't think she'd ever made before. But he looked at her, waiting for her explicit permission to remove her pretty blue dress. She nodded, taut against his hand. "Stand up?" He suggested, so she very reluctantly got off his lap. She knew he didn't want her to, because his hand lingered for as long as it possibly could against her thigh. He looked up at her for a moment as she stood between his legs, then he pushed himself up as well. He gave a little gesture with his hand that told her to turn around, so she did, putting her trust in him when she wasn't looking. Peeta slowly and carefully moved her hair off her shoulder, to one side, so she held it with one hand.
"I don't know how it fastens," she admitted. "My stylist, she always has some kind of crazy--" suddenly the neckline was so much loser, she felt the support on her breasts fall a little. She could almost feel Peeta's smile on her skin. She didn't realize how close his lips were before he pressed a soft kiss to the nape of her neck. She blinked slowly, almost how she would when waking from a dream. His hands then moved down to the bottom of the open back, tracing her skin on the way there, where it was fastened a second time, and he undid that one too. Slowly, ever so careful with her body, he trailed his hands up to her shoulders, knocking the straps off, letting the dress hit the floor, which was just where he wanted it. The only thing Peeta dared do next was step back to give her space to step out of it.
Then he waited. With his hands on her bare waist, he waited for her to want to turn back to him. She didn't know how he could tell to be this way with her. There was no way he knew much of anything about her, but yet he was so kind with his touch. She'd only known him a week, but in their defense, the unspoken connection was irrefutable.
She appreciated that he didn't rush her, because she did need a moment. Him seeing her naked was so different than any of the other times someone had. Peeta made her nervous. Not in a bad way. In a way that she hadn't felt in a while. A kind of excited nervous that made her not want to mess anything up. He silently placed another kiss against her neck, and she started to turn around. His hands never broke contact with her skin. When she met Peeta's eyes, they were completely on hers. She let out a laugh. His mouth twitched at her laugh, like he wanted to smile.
"You can look," she told him, which made him laugh too. He was laughing mostly at himself, looking down at the floor, softly chuckling, before his eyes took in all of her. Her thighs, now totally bare, her simple underwear covering the rest of her, her hips, her stomach, his eyes did linger on her breasts, he couldn't help it, and she couldn't blame him. But even that, even his gaze was new and different and gentle. Then he met her eyes, with a look in his eyes that she'd never seen in a man. A look that nearly killed the moment it was so soft. Like all he wanted was just to stay here, and never move. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her in, pulling her close to him, but her hands only stopped him by reaching for the bottom of his shirt. She felt his breath, laughing, against her lips, and she involuntarily smiled as she attempted to help him take it off.
Her hands pushed up the material, and Peeta helped her by pulling it over his head. She didn't bother with polite restraint, she looked at all of him, every muscle that sculpted his body from his waistline to his collar bones, his biceps, oh his biceps. Kallan breathed out, as Peeta fought a smirk.
"They said you were strong, I didn't--"
Peeta took it upon himself, halfway through her sentence, to prove this point. It was one of his best features, in his mind. So he took her by her waist, lifting her, turning her, and setting her back on her bed. Kallan gasped, as Peeta stepped between her legs, took her from under her knees, and pulled her forward, so he was perfectly positioned between her pretty thighs.
"Peeta," she gasped, his face so close to hers. Her hand came up, holding his face, pulling him close to her.
"You're so beautiful," was all he said, before he leaned in to kiss her again. Crying would not have been appropriate right now, but she wanted to. Because he said it with all the sincerity in the world. Instead, she held onto him, as tight as she could, holding him against her, his hips against hers, but with more fabric covering him than her. She wanted it gone, she wanted to feel him. It wasn't that she needed to see, but she needed to feel. She reached for the belt that matched his pants, and started to undo it. That's when Peeta's breath picked up a little. She could almost feel his heartbeat against her chest, it was faster. She stopped, looking at him. He looked nervous. Kallan didn't want to make him nervous.
Then she clocked why. Her gaze fixed not on his wonderfully attractive torso, nor his hips, but his legs. She tilted her head.
"Why are you ashamed of it?"
Peeta sighed, squeezing her thighs lightly before he let them go.
"I'm not ashamed of it but--I," he took a breath, and she patiently waited for an answer. "No one's seen it. Cinna, maybe, but--"
"I want to see it," she said. And it didn't make him less nervous, but it changed the kind of nervous he felt. She took his hand back in hers, and pulled him closer again, looking up at him. "I want all of you."
Peeta tried, he really did. He forced back his smile, but it was too sweet of a thing to say for him to not smile at it. It was sweet, it was kind, a little bashful. Her hands went for his belt, and he let her, he wanted her to take it off. She pulled it open, almost too quickly, but again, it wasn't to see, it was to feel him, to have all of him, before she couldn't anymore. With the belt off, she gave his pants a tug, and he kicked off his shoes, then let her come closer to him, slowly getting on her knees to pull the rest of them off. Her eyes stayed on his until his legs were bare. Then her gaze fell on all of him.
He reached out his hand and she took it as he brought her off her knees, which she will admit, surprised her. She took in his body as she stood, hidden only by his boxers now. It would really be a shame if anything happened to it in the games. "Peeta," she let his name fall from her lips, with no intention of anything else behind it. His cheeks were turning red, just slightly. With a bit of gentle force, he pushed her back against the bed, stepping between her legs, the way he had before. Her hands held his waist, where she could feel his breath was a bit steadier now. She felt bad for staring, but he didn't mind.
The prosthetic started just above his knee, a gray metal color that made it fairly obvious, but he seemed so comfortable with it that it was never obvious when it was covered. "Mutts, right?" She asked, so quietly that the mention of the names didn't startle him.
"Mhm," he hummed. It took a second before Kallan realized what she was asking about.
"Me too," she brought her eyes back to his that had been begging for them. But she saw his confused look as he replayed her games in his head. She looked at her own right leg to indicate where it had happened. Peeta's hand started at the top of her thigh, then began to move down as his gaze looked for the evidence of what happened. He reached her calf, and finally saw the scars that even the capitol's best technology couldn't, or wouldn't erase. For years she'd been convinced that they left them there on purpose.
"Right," he breathed out, his hand holding her ankle as his thumb brushed over the marks. "I almost forgot."
"You watched them?" She didn't mean to sound so disappointed that Peeta might've watched her games.
"'Course," he replied, letting go of her ankle, and coming back up to her face. "You know I always thought you were pretty," he said, and watched as the shock settled on her face. He laughed quietly, a little embarrassed. "Even at 15," he said, almost reassuring her, trying to get her to believe it. His hand came up to her face again, tucking it into her hair. "Every year since," he was so close to her now, she could feel his words rather than see or even hear them. "Thought maybe I'd get even a little lucky and get to meet you last year," his other hand held her right leg again, his nearly bare hips coming against hers. She let out a shuddered breath.
"Peeta," it sounded more like a whine than she wanted it to, but he gave her exactly what she'd been trying to beg him for, and he kissed her again, and she really did moan against his lips this time. It made him smile, what a beautiful sound. "I think," she muttered against his lips, "I'd rather," he was hardly letting her get her sentence out, "you kill me now," she said, making him chuckle against her. He moved his lips to her jaw, her ear, her neck.
"That," he kissed her skin, "would be," he kissed her shoulder, "a damn shame."
Kallan laughed, her head falling back, and Peeta exhaled onto her skin. With a smile, both his hands moved down to her waist, fingers lightly tucking into the waistline of her panties, his eyes finding hers for permission. She did want them off, she did want to be entirely honest with her body.
"Can you go first?" she let it slip. She didn't want to be the first one entirely exposed, and Peeta didn't seem to mind.
"Yeah," he smiled, not hesitating to take off his boxers, not hesitating to make her feel comfortable. Then his hands found her waist again, her hips, tucking into the panties again as she lifted her hips to let him take them off. Before she even recognized what he was doing he had put an arm under her and practically airlifted her to the center of the bed. She gasped as he placed himself in seemingly his favorite place to be, between her legs. His thumbs grazed her skin from their place under her thighs. He leaned in, making her think he was going for her lips again, but as her hand found his face he stopped. "What do you want?" He whispered, and she melted beneath him. She thought she might sink straight through the bed.
"Touch me," the words tumbled from her lips so close to his.
"Where?"
"Everywhere," she pleaded, and his breath came out sharp against her lips. Before he complied. His hands moved from her thighs, starting to explore all of her. He didn't want to leave any part of her untouched, with his hands, with his lips, with all of himself. She thought the sounds he pulled from her lips were obscene, he thought they were beautiful. He explored until his hands were back under her thighs, and his mouth not from the area either. Kallan felt her breath get heavy when Peeta lightly licked his bottom lip like he was looking at a feast and he hadn't eaten in days. Kallan propped herself up onto her elbows to look at him, a little shocked at what he was about to do. He looked up at her immediately.
"You not want me to?" He checked quickly, and Kallan felt her self control slip from her grasp.
"I do," she exhaled, "but you—" she didn't know how to phrase this and not make it sound as shocked as she was. "You want to?" Peeta laughed quietly at her like she'd said something stupid. He sat up just slightly, taking her in. He leaned forward so his face was close to hers again, and despite the amount of times he'd done it it still made her heart pound.
"We might die tomorrow," he reminded her. "If we do, I want this to be the last thing I do."
Kallan practically gasped, watching as he lowered herself between her legs, her body begging for him with everything she was. His grip on her tightened as he buried his head between her thighs like she was a last meal, and an entirely new feeling flooded her senses.
Euphoric. There was no better word for it. Even though she'd done that part of it before, it was never like that. And never all the way to that end. She was up against the pillows, having been a number of ways before this, but that's how they landed. Peeta rolled over slightly so he wasn't directly on top of her, but she didn't mind either way. She was trying to string together comprehensive thoughts, but it wasn't working. Peeta kept one arm draped over her, his thumb brushing her skin once more.
"I..." she swallowed. "I can't believe we did that," she managed. Peeta chuckled against her skin, most of him still pressed against her, he didn't want to let go. "I knew you were flirting but I didn't think... we'd," she didn't need to finish her sentence.
"I didn't want to have any regrets going into the games," he said against her shoulder. "But I would've settled for a kiss," he said, which made her stomach move in a silent laugh. He looked up to catch her smile just in time. She looked over at him, at the loving look on his face, before she looked back at the ceiling. If she looked at him too long she was afraid she'd break.
After a moment Peeta moved, like he was going to get up. Kallan didn't know what took over, but she grabbed his arm as quickly as she could, stopping him from leaving.
"Don't go," she said quickly. Peeta breathed out against her ear.
"I was just going to get a bit more clothes on," he spoke calmly, like he always did. Of course he was. He was nothing like the men she'd dealt with. He wasn't just going to do that and leave. He made that clear.
"Don't do that either," she said, which made him chuckle, and he relaxed, laying back against her.
"Okay, but we should probably get cleaned up," he reminded her, to which she nodded, but didn't move.
It was quiet for a moment after that. Not silent, the Capitol was still partying a few hundred feet below, but it was quiet in here. In their own world for the next few hours. The pause made Kallan too aware. She could feel Peeta's arms, feel his touch, his breath. The proximity made her think about what she'd just done. The choice she'd made, the choice she got to make. It didn't make her feel dirty, or used. It made her feel good.
"Have you ever..." she paused, but Peeta hummed against her skin, asking her to go on. "You ever do that before?"
Peeta's skin heated up against hers. He shook his head very slightly. "That obvious?"
Kallan gasped, looking at him. "No, no, really, if anything, the opposite," she insisted, feeling him smile a little against her shoulder. But then she regretted asking. Because she should've known what would come next.
"You?"
Kallan didn't answer. Her gaze that had previously been on the ceiling, turned to look at the window. The question hung in the air for a minute. Just as he had been the whole night, he wasn't rushing her. He lifted the arm from her stomach to her hair, tucking a bit of it behind her ear, then returned it to where it was. She didn't want to say yeah, done it before. Because she hadn't. Not like this. This was something entirely new to her. But she didn't want to be dishonest with Peeta, not after he'd openly shared this intimacy with her.
"Never with somebody that I..." that she what? That she liked? That she loved? It all set in too fast, she'd caught feelings. With a boy who was publicly married, publicly in love with Katniss Everdeen. And she'd gone and had sex with him because, what? She felt like it? Because she liked him? It didn't matter what she wanted. "We shouldn't have done that."
Peeta lifted his head a little, looking at her. "Kallan."
"It was a bad idea," she kept her gaze trained on the window.
"Kallan, look at me," he said, sounding serious about it. Kallan pushed herself up to turn over and look at him. With him laying back on the pillows she propped herself up to look down at him. His hand came up immediately, like an instinct, to brush her hair back. His face was telling her that he was waiting for an explanation.
"We're going to die," she blurted, "but before we do we're going to be watched. By hundreds—thousands of people. Who think that you're married. Who think you're having a baby. Who can't think that our relationship is anything more than allies," she said, sounding desperate about it.
"You don't think we can do that?" He asked her.
"There are cameras everywhere, Peeta. I have to look at you like this never happened, like we didn't..." she didn't think through what she was going to say to him. "like we don't..."
"Like we don't care about each other?" He asked, his hand still on her face. She closed her eyes briefly. She felt like an idiot for letting herself fall for this boy.
"We never should've done this. I can't have another person I care about in that arena," she said, simultaneously leaning against his hand.
"Too late for that," Peeta said, watching as a smile just barely graced her lips. He let go of her face and opened his arm, gesturing for her to lay down, so she did, resting herself on his strong chest. "I told you, I didn't want any regrets going in there tomorrow," he pulled her closer to his chest, his hand lightly combing through her gold hair. "Whatever happens in the Games, I'm glad this happened," he said, and Kallan closed her eyes trying to bury herself into him if she could.
She breathed out warm air into his chest. "Me too," she agreed, even though she'd been insisting moments ago that it was a mistake. Tomorrow she entered a potential certain death, but right now this was the safest place she could think of. "Will you stay?"
"Always," he whispered.
"But leave before I wake up. I don't want to say goodbye."