the girl who played with knives || clato ✔️

13

Clove

Cato refuses to leave me again, which I really don't mind. We've made our way back down to my room and are now sitting on the bed chatting like we used to. As if it's all the same, even though nothing is. Even wearen't the same people that we were before the reaping. They say the Games change you, but I don't think they mean for good. But I feel a bit better now somehow, freer. Cato has a way of doing that, making you forget the world and focus on living, and I love him for it.

"I'm hungry," I say. We'd been talking about our mothers' cooking, and I had the striking realization that I hadn't eaten lately.

"Me too," he says. I guess he skipped dinner to be with me. He reaches over to grab a huge menu that sits on the bedside table and moves closer so we can both read it. We choose a dish of chicken and orange chunks cooked in a creamy sauce laid on a bed of pearly white grain, tiny green peas and onions, and rolls shaped like flowers, that arrives within a minute after Cato speaks it into a mouthpiece nearby. We eat in silence; it's too good to waste any time talking when we could be shoveling food in our mouths. I tell myself to slow down. Smaller bites. Chew for more than two seconds. Eventually we're both too full to go on, and Cato moves all the plates to the bedside table. We decide we better get changed into pajamas, so Cato reluctantly leaves and I start to take off my armor from the Tribute Parade. The ritual feels almost symbolic. Here I am, with no protection. Come and get me.

I've just changed into a thin white nightgown when Cato knocks on the door.

"Come in!" I say, not bothering to glance at the door as I finish undoing my hair, pulling out probably a hundred pins. When I turn around, Cato is standing there in the doorway in all black clothes, staring at me. He pretends he wasn't and moves towards the bed. I sit down and lean against the wall of pillows at the head. Cato crawls up onto the bed, sits beside me, and then wraps a protective arm around my waist. I turn onto my side, leaning into him, and place my hand on his chest, right where his heart is. Its steady beat lulls me to sleep, where a world of dreams awaits me.

-

I'm high up in a tree somewhere. So high that the cars below look like ants and the streets like mere twigs. I'm standing though, with no fear of falling. Cato is there suddenly, appearing in front of me. He leans down towards me and presses his lips to mine. My heart pumps loudly in my ears. I kiss him with all that I am. And it feels wonderful.

-

I awaken to the sound of Cato's heart pumping in my ear. He's pulled the blankets up over us and we're shrouded in darkness and warmth. His chest heaves slightly under my cheek.

I think about the dream and wonder why I had it. I have never imagined anything like that. Never even dreamed of it, until now I guess, and it makes me feel embarrassed.

I sit up and rub my eyes. Faded grey light seeps through the windows. I hear Cato moving around and turn to see that he's awake as well.

"Hey," I whisper, but no sound actually comes out. I clear my throat and try again. "Did I wake you?" I ask.

Cato squints at me, his eyes still adjusting to the light.

"Yeah," he says, and I'm about to apologize but he continues. "But you're a nice thing to wake up to." He smiles and sits up, then leans over me and wraps his arms around my stomach and shoulders, pressing his body to mine. My breath catches. I can feel his body heat through my thin nightgown, and this all feels incredibly intimate for a reason I cannot name.

"Are you alright?" He asks, pulling away slightly.

"Yes. I just... I've never... We... I don't know."

"I feel it too."

He leans back over me and we sit there for a few minutes. It's Cato that breaks the silence.

"Last night... I... I don't know. I'm sorry, I guess, for kissing you."

"Don't be," I say. Why would he be sorry? That was one of the best things that ever happened to me. Then I remember where we are, and that we are supposed to kill each other, not kiss each other, but I push it away. "And I don't think that really counts anyway." A smile plays on my lips. Cato leans a little closer.

"What does?" He whispers, and a chill runs down my spine. I tilt my head slightly, so that our lips are practically touching, and I'm about to close the gap when the door bursts open. I jump and give a small shout. Cato pulls away quickly. Madeline Maggot stand in the doorway with her mouth hanging open. So much for privacy.

"Oh... Oh, my!" She says. "I was just... I went to your room, Cato, and you weren't there... And- I just... Um..." I smile nervously at Madeline Maggot's stupor. "Oh my..." She says under her breath.

"Hey, Madeline," I say, getting out of the bed and walking over to her.

"Hello... Hello, Clove. I was just coming to tell you that we will be meeting for breakfast soon... And you should get ready, for training that is, so we can leave right after! It starts at ten! An outfit will be delivered to you... Both. In your rooms." She puts emphasis on the rooms, as if it is a crime that we slept in the same one. Who knows, maybe it is.

"Thank you, Madeline, we'll be right there," I say. I may have possibly closed the door on her.

Cato starts laughing behind me and I give a little laugh as well.

"I'll see you at breakfast," he says, and after a moment of thought, kisses my cheek again before leaving. I smile throughout my shower until I've pull my hair into a ponytail staring at my reflection in the mirror. I smile as I put on the outfit Spencer has left for me on my bed. There's a pair of black pants with a gray stripe running down the outer side. There's a small red line in front of it. The shirt is also black, with a zipper that only runs about a quarter of the way down the shirt. The sleeves are the same mild red as the stripe on the leg, with a gray stripe cutting through them, and a black stripe cutting through the gray. There's a black square outlined in red on each sleeve and on the back, with a gray 2 inside it. Spencer has also provided me with comfortable grey tennis shoes, which I slip on, still smiling.