When There Are 25- A Clato Story

Playing up the lie

Clove POV

We sit there in shock after my parents leave the room. I look down and realize that I'm still only wearing Cato's shirt. I should probably get dressed before we go talk to my parents. We don't need them to be any more mad.

"Baby, let's get dressed," I say to Cato, flinging the covers back and moving to climb out of the bed.

"Why?" He pouts. "I was enjoying your new look. You look sexy."

I blush and smack his arm. "Cato," I say exasperatedly. Before Cato has a chance to say anything, I feel my stomach flip and jump out of Cato's arms and run to the bathroom.

I feel my hair be pulled out of my grasp and into someone else's. Cato rubs my back soothingly and helps me up when I finally stop throwing up. He leads me over to the sink and puts toothpaste on a toothbrush and hands it to me. I gratefully take it and start to brush my teeth as Cato fills up a cup with water. I spit out the toothpaste and rinse the toothbrush before accepting the cup.

"What was that? Are you ok?" Cato questions, concerned.

"I have to tell you something," I say nervously, wringing my hands together, my eyes flicking down from his.

"Is something wrong? You can tell me anything," He says in an attempt to reassure me. He cups my face in his hands and looks at me with so much love it hurts.

"I'm—" I start before my parents appear in the doorway of the bathroom. My father looks particularly livid at my and Cato's choice of clothing, or lack thereof. I'm only wearing a T-shirt of Cato's and Cato, well Cato is only in boxers.

My mom on the other hand looks calmer. She pushes my dad out the door says, "You two, put on clothes please and meet us in the dining room for breakfast. Chop chop." She shoots me a concerned and knowing look before walking out the door. I can hear my parents talking as they walk out of the room.

Once the voices have disappeared, Cato turns to me with a cheeky grin. "Oops. You sure you want to get dressed? We could walk out there in this and see how mad your dad gets," He says deviously with a playful smirk. "I don't think he likes that I'm sleeping with his daughter."

I blush furiously and slap his arm. Why does this feel so familiar? He's always saying things like that and it never fails to make me blush.

"Cato, clothes! Now!" I screech at him before walking out of the bathroom.

I hear him sigh before he walks out after me. He turns to the wardrobe and grabs a pair of black running shorts, socks, sneakers, and a muscle tank.

"Can I pick something for you?" He asks, casually as he puts on his clothes.

"Sure," I say with a shrug, as we start to move towards the door back to my very unused room.

Cato walks to the wardrobe as I move to sit on the bed. I look down thinking about how to tell Cato about the baby. I can't just say, "Hey, Cato, you're gonna be a Dad but probably not because at least one of us will die in the arena."

I snap out of my thoughts as Cato hands clothes to me, if you can't call them that. He picked extremely tight and short booty shorts and a sports bra.