“Katniss?" Peeta says. I meet his eyes, knowing my face must be some shade of green. He mouths the words. "How about that kiss?”

“Say something, Jess. Say anything. And just when I'm about to think of what I should say next, my mouth goes into whacked overdrive like I'm possessed. “The graphic art in Clone Wars is my favorite,” I say. “I love how they drew the characters. You know—how everything looks so angular and—” My words tangle and freeze when my brain finally arrives to shut it down. Say something but NOT THAT, you psycho! “Clone Wars. Love it, do I? Yesss.” He's actually responded in a Yoda voice! I blink. His eyes are kind, sparkling with laughter and still, all too green. Yoda green!”

“He puts up with a lot from me, and he never gets irritated.""Yeah, cause you can be so darn irritating..." He lowered his face and kissed my eyebrow tenderly, "with those irritating cinnamon-brown eyes..." His kisses moved down to my nose. "And that irritating, tiny nose..." He paused, his mouth a mere breath away from mine, and he kissed me softly. "And those irritating, luscious lips..." The green of his eyes darkened as he gazed down at my mouth. "God, those lips..." he sighed, and his warm breath drifted lightly across my mouth as his arms tightened around me more. He kissed me long and hard.”

“Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance."It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted.""Not all of it," I say, tightly holding onto my flowers."Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says."I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none's forthcoming."Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.”

“Say it.”“Say what?”“Order me to tell you I love you.”The instant the words came out of my mouth, his eyes closed, a shadow of pain crossed his face and he dropped his head to the side of mine. He remembered.He missed that too.”

“I concentrated on his eyes and his facial expression. Those said a lot about a person. I’d noticed that his eyes changed color based on his mood. Right now they were a true clear green, which meant he was happy. When his eyes turned cloudy with a mix of gray, he was angry. But my favorite shade was clear dark green, the color of his eyes when he’d just kissed me. Eyes only told part of the story. Drawing a portrait could be like looking at a person’s soul, when done right.”