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He pulled me right into his arms, his lips crashing on to mine. The warmth surges through my body as he wraps his arms around me more firmly. I shudder as his hands travel up my body, all the way to my face. He cups my face in his hands while kissing me. I taste his sweet, soft, and warm lips. I can already feel myself get lost. Right now, I can't believe his lips are onto mine. It's something I've always wanted. And now, they are. It feels so wrong, but a larger part of me doesn't want it to stop.

It's so wrong to tell him. But it feels so sweet and good to have his lips on mine. I have a hard time trusting him, basically I don't know if he believes me or he thinks it's a form of deception. And he's just following along. It doesn't seem like the real Peeta, and lately, he hasn't been himself until now. The same quiet, upset-looking, and bad tempered Peeta wasn't showing his true colors until tonight. It's the same Peeta I fell in love with, because I'm that stupid. Falling in love, I used to think, was for those girls who are week and useless. I see myself now, and how I feel around Peeta, and it makes me feel like one of them. Then I realize what if you could be both? You could be both strong and still be deeply in love with someone who barely even talked to you until you both ended up in a tough spot.

Why? I ask myself why he even kissed me. Surely he doesn't feel the same. No one can change the way they feel about someone that quick. I'm only making my confusion worse. With all honesty, I'm not thinking about the way he must feel. I'm thinking about how nice it feels to finally have those lips of his on mine like I always wanted. It's selfish, but it feels so great I can barely think. He kisses me again, again, and again as if trying to figure something out.

My confusion seems like a boat lost at sea. Where am I right now? Those lips get me so mesmerized. His arms are wrapped tighter around me as our foreheads are pressed against each other. I'm afraid to look up into his blue, gorgeous, and mesmerizing eyes. I'll see something in them I won't like to see. Will he hate me? Does he dislike me? Will it hold all the answers like a treasure chest to why he kissed me? He pulls away from me, and one of his fingers go under my chin, lifting my head up, and forcing me to look into his eyes. Right away, I see those eyes. I see…nothing in them. I can't read him, but I'm sure my face is like an open book, showing my true emotions for him. That's just another reason why love can make me so weak, especially around Peeta.

"Why?" It's all I can manage to say, barely over a whisper. I'm staring into the pair of blue eyes that always force me into weakness. I'm not going to focus on the negative possibilities that wait for me in the arena because of what I just told him. But if I would have kept it to myself, my broken heart wouldn't function well. Either, I'm still going into that arena weakly.

"I…I don't know," he says, looking intensely into my eyes. My eyes are wondering so much into those eyes of his, that I can finally see something in them. It's as if he's trying to figure out how he feels about me. "I needed to kiss you. I wanted to."

The feeling of his lips on mine again send sparks of electricity through me. I could only think about how tough it's going to be going into the arena, still being able to feel and taste his lips on mine. "Please don't," I say, pulling away. I can't do this knowing how terrible it's going to be. But he pulls me close to him again as I sigh.

"Why?" He asks, returning the question, but not in the same tone of reason. He cups my face in his hands and stares into my eyes while mine lock with his.

"It's not good for neither of us," I reply as he strokes my hair, making me feel those annoying and queasy butterflies in my stomach.

"It feels right," he whispers, leaning in to kiss me again, and this time I have no regret. His soft lips meet mine repeatedly. His arms are around my waist as mine are around his neck. He pulls me close, so close I can feel his warmth. That warmth engulfs me as his hands travel up my body to my hips. Suddenly, I'm thinking of our survival, his survival.

Haymitch explained to me how the Capitol treats every tribute with sympathy and encouragement. They want something from every tribute, and if they don't get it, it's too bad for the sucker who doesn't agree to have the strings attached to them like puppets. The Capitol forces what they want out of you, and I want them to like Peeta, I need to give them what they want. And what they want is what they will get. Romance from the tributes of District 12 is all they have been talking about, it's what they want. And I'm going to make Peeta believe in what is real, and in that way, I will get what I want, and so will the Capitol.

…

Haymitch stands there, in the doorway to the dining room. He looks quite sober, sober enough to give us some useful advice. Peeta sits next to me, looking up at Haymitch from his breakfast. Last night's events remain unspoken of between us. It's straight up ridiculous, really. Some time we're going to talk about it. Today's the bloody training. Haymitch sits on his chair, everything so silent you hear the creak of his chair while he sits. All this Capitol furniture is complex and unusual…just not normal. He picks up his fork, but puts it back down with a clink! They have us dressed in tight, black suits, though they are rather comfortable enough to move in. We all know what today is.

"So…I don't have to explain what's today," we remain silent, acting as a sign for him to continue. "Don't go for what you're good at; go for something you don't know. What you know won't help you if you know it already. Learn something new in order to have higher chances for survival in the arena with what you know, and what you learned."

We both nod, the room still silent. Effie starts a conversation with me. I don't want to speak, but it wouldn't hurt to kill the exasperating silence in this room. Effie starts talking about the magnificent food and how the other Districts, even the Careers, don't get any special treatment when Haymitch warns us of the Careers. All I can manage to do is smile at her. Peeta's trying to keep the glare off his face, obviously irritated by Effie's constant talking. Haymitch looks as if he's going to bite Trinket's head off and feed it to his imaginary dogs. The thought of Haymitch getting so infuriated by Effie makes me thank her, and I never thought I'd thank Effie for anything. Unless you were to thank her for her invariable chatter and nuisance she clearly doesn't notice she gives.

We're riding down elevators. Peeta avoids my gaze. I fear he might be regretting what he did last night, while I still don't. In fact, I wish he'd kiss me again. Not only that, but it makes me believe he doesn't want to get close. We've been through the same thing over and over. It's a conflict between my heart and my head. Logically, we'd be better separate. But my heart doesn't want to be separated from him. In the games, it's time to think logically. Either be sharp and quick, or think with kindness, which clearly doesn't get you anywhere near being a Victor. If only he knew everything, it'd make everything worse and better simultaneously.

District 12 is the last District to get there. Every other District is already gotten there, and being the last really lets the other tributes get a good look at you. I could already point out which are Careers and which are not, simply because they have smirks on their faces the entire time. Even better, they have now locked their eyes on Peeta. They just glanced at me because I'm just a small girl. I'm not strong. You'd think being from the Seam you have a better chance at surviving the games. But in my case, you're terribly wrong. If you're weak, and you stay hidden, they don't pay attention to you. And if they don't pay attention to me, I'm fine.

But I shouldn't be fine.

When one blond, huge, and strong one beacons the other one to look at Peeta with his head, I feel as if a bullet pierced through my stomach, leaving it hollow of every organ there is in my body. The name, Cato, comes to mind. All the Careers glance at Peeta. Peeta's strong, tall, and completely threatening with his looks. He'd be the first they go for. I feel my breath quicken as I let out shaky breathes Peeta evidently notices. But then I find myself thinking…What if I didn't listen to Haymitch? If I show my skills with knives and plants, or even try the trying knots station, and if I got the Careers to see how skillful I am, it would make them forget about Peeta. But they're not going to kill me. I'll be like their only hope in getting Peeta. But in reality, I'd be guiding them away from Peeta.

That is exactly what I'm going to do. Finally I've found myself feeling hope in a time like this.

A woman explains to us what stations are available in the center and the rules. Fortunately, they don't allow any fighting to go on. Of course they wouldn't, but I just wanted them to assure it so the Careers don't have an excuse for it.

First station I head to is the knife throwing station. I meet Clove there, yet another Career. She snickers when her eyes land on me. I snort right at her, too. Her head jolts when she hears it, and she opens her mouth to say, "Looks like you'll need a lot of help in this station. Go somewhere else."

"Why don't you take your asshole personality somewhere else," I snap at her. Her eyes widen as the trainer stifles a laugh we can clearly hear perfectly fine. She groans and throws a knife right in the head of a dummy's head.

I snatch a knife from a small stand of displays. Clove watches intensely, as if hoping I'd mess up for a laugh. I can feel Peeta's eyes on me. He'd know I'm passing off Haymitch's rules and I'm sure he'd ask me for an explanation. I grimace at the thought of being asked so many questions and I'd have to lie to Peeta's face. I clear my head of anything. I pick up a few more. I step up to a white line marked on the floor. I aim the knife I'm gripping in my hand. Then, I let it fly through the air like cutting through grass, a clean cut. To my surprise, it lands right in the bull's eye. Rapidly, I imitate the movement as all the knives hit the bull's eye of every target. I'm surprised at my own work.

Clove stares in shock. I turn around to see every eye of the Careers on me. Clove's dumbfounded expression turns into a glare. She hates me, but once I let them know they can't get Peeta without my help, they'd accept me in their Career alliance because of their blindness due to hunger for power. It'd be as easy to make them betray themselves with my words.

After that unbelievable and lucky streak of skill, I head to the knot tying station. I look around to find Peeta, but he's nowhere in sight. I decide not to bother to look for him. Basically I'm avoiding possible questions he might ask me.

Once I get to the tying not station, I feel his breath on me as he whispers in my ear, "What are you doing?" It sounds more concerned than angry.

I turn to meet his blue eyes. He looks down at me, the concern from his voice not quite meeting his eyes. His eyes and face expression reveal angriness. I answer him, but I clearly know it isn't what he wants to hear. "Tying knots. What are you doing?"

He kneels beside me to tie knots also. "You know what I'm talking about, Katniss," he persists. I roll my eyes, and it's like getting cut in the face. I would never roll my eyes at Peeta, but my need for him to survive has taken over.

"I needed to practice my knife throwing," I say, defensively.

He grabs my hand, making that wave of electricity move through my body. The room suddenly gets hotter. I look up at him; his eyes have that shine in them. We're starring into each others' eyes when he says, "Listen to Haymitch, Katniss. I don't want anything to happen to you."

I can feel the heat rise in my cheeks. I try so hard to keep it down, but it doesn't work. This is just going to be too hard for me.

This is going to be harder than I thought.