Chapter 2: French Kiss

I watch as the boy tribute mounts the stage and shakes the hand of the girl tribute who is not me. And our offering for the 76th Hunger Games disappear into the Justice Building.

I watch as my fellow 18-year-olds with sweethearts fall into each other's embrace; some boys get down on one knee. It is tradition for some teenagers just free of the Reaping to propose and have a Toasting not long after. Enter into marriage.

I feel a tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I am suddenly swept into a gallant dip and kissed full on the mouth.

I smile and relax into the kiss. I would recognize the taste of those lips anywhere. Peeta Mellark, my boyfriend of two years. I was wary at first of entering a romantic relationship, and knew people would talk about a Merchant man and a young Seam woman together. But Peeta's sweetness won me over.

Peeta and I break the kiss lovingly. Peeta beams at me. "We're free."

I laugh, smirking at him with amusement. "So it seems." I peck his lips again chastely.

Peeta's eyes suddenly darken, and I feel my face growing hot as I wonder if he has been overcome with lust. But instead, he asks:

"Katniss Sierra Everdeen, will you marry me?"

My mouth falls open, gazing at him in astonishment. "Do you realize who you're talking to?"

"I'm aware," Peeta laughs. "Now," and he pulls me flush against his body. "Are you going to marry me?"

I run my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, thinking it over. I had once promised myself I would never marry, and especially not have children. Even if there were no Reapings or Hunger Games, life in District 12 is hard enough. But... with Peeta by my side... maybe life would be more bearable.

Gently cupping his face in my hands, I kiss Peeta gently on the lips, closing my eyes in pleasure. "Yes," I whisper. I press my lips to his again and whisper against them, "But no children."

Peeta nods in understanding. "Deal."

With Primrose and Mother's help, I am donned in Mother's wedding dress the very next night. I went to the Justice Building this morning and signed the marriage license. Peeta, my fiancé, joined me, managing to slip away from the Bakery.

And he comes to our house in the dead of night, handsomely dressed in a tuxedo. Kneeling by the fireplace, we Toast a piece of bread, as is the marriage custom, and share it.

Standing up, Peeta pulls me to him. I am a little taken aback, pressing my hands into his chest to steady myself. With a mixture of fear and hope, I permit him to kiss me, and I kiss him back, sealing our marriage.

Hard to believe that my journey to becoming a wife - Mrs. Peeta Mellark - all started with a superstitious Reaping Kiss.