“Whatever the truth is, I don’t see how it will help me get food on the table.”

“Remembering from last year how Haymitch's gifts are often timed to send a message, I make a note to myself. Be friends with Finnick. You'll get food.”

“All I can think of is the emaciated bodies of children on our kitchen table as my mother prescribes what the parent's can't give. More food.”

“How do you bear it?” Finnick looks at me in disbelief. “I don’t, Katniss! Obviously, I don’t. I drag myself out of nightmares each morning and find there’s no relief in waking.” “The more you can distract yourself the better, ” he says. “First thing tomorrow, we’ll get you your own rope. Until then take mine.”

“I reach out and take his hand.“Well, he probably used up a lot of resources helping me knock you out,” I say mischievously.“Yeah, about that,” says Peeta, entwining his fingers in mine. “Don’t try something like that again.”“Or what?” I ask.“Or . . . or . . .” He can’t think of anything good. “Just give me a minute.”“What’s the problem?” I say with a grin.“The problem is we’re both still alive. Which only reinforces the idea in your mind that you did the right thing,” says Peeta.“I did do the right thing,” I say.“No! Just don’t, Katniss!” His grip tightens, hurting my hand, and there’s real anger in his voice. “Don’t die for me. You won’t be doing me any favors. All right?”I’m startled by his intensity but recognize an excellent opportunity for getting food, so I try to keep up. “Maybe I did it for myself, Peeta, did you ever think of that? Maybe you aren’t the only one who . . . who worries about . . . what it would be like if. . .”I fumble. I’m not as smooth with words as Peeta. And while I was talking, the idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home.And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.“If what, Katniss?” he says softly.I wish I could pull the shutters closed, blocking out this moment from the prying eyes of Panem. Even if it means losing food. Whatever I’m feeling, it’s no one’s business but mine.“That’s exactly the kind of topic Haymitch told me to steer clear of,” I say evasively, although Haymitch never said anything of the kind. In fact, he’s probably cursing me out right now for dropping the ball during such an emotionally charged moment. But Peeta somehow catches it.“Then I’ll just have to fill in the blanks myself,” he says, and moves in to me.This is the first kiss that we’re both fully aware of. Neither of us hobbled by sickness or pain or simply unconscious. Our lips neither burning with fever or icy cold. 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.But I don’t get it. Well, I do get a second kiss, but it’s just a light one on the tip of my nose because Peeta’s been distracted.“I think your wound is bleeding again. Come on, lie down, it’s bedtime anyway,” he says.”

“One time, my mother told me that I always eat like I'll never see food again. And I said, "I won't unless I bring it home." That shut her up.”

“And then, when he’s been underwater so long I feel certain he’s drowned, his head pops up right next to me and I start. “Don’t do that,” I say. “What? Come up or stay under?” he says. “Either. Neither. Whatever”