"Hey! Sleepyhead, wake up!"

I crack open an eyelid as I throw the covers off of me. Something hits my window with almost enough force to crack it. I immediately tumble out of bed.

I throw the window open to see him standing in my front yard. "Goddammit Cato! You nearly broke my window!" I shout down to him, half-serious.

He shrugs. "Well, you weren't waking up anytime soon. It's almost noon. I went for a run and met up with Marvel and Finnick. What've you done?" I see he's trying to ask this good-naturedly, but there's also that smirk. Goddamn him.

"Uuunhhh," I groan. "Leave me be. I was planning to sleep in until one. School starts tomorrow you bastard."

"Senior year, baby! School is exactly what I came here to talk about. Now get your butt down here!"

"Why Cato, why? School is the bane of my life!" I dramatically exclaim, dramatically holding up a hand in the air. With a sigh, hjowever, I slam the window down and pull on a decent smelling shirt and a pair of colorful shorts.

I clamber down the stairs, finding the house once again empty. My parents have left for work. My brothers returned back to their colleges a few days ago. I slip on a pair of Sperry's and I'm out the door.

Cato literally lives right next to me, so it's just a short walk across both of our yards. His parents are probably gone too, maybe on work or vacation. It's just the two of us. It's always been the two of us. We went to the beach with a few babes this summer. We went to catch some new flicks just this weekend. Mainly, we just chilled over at each other's houses. Sometimes Marvel would stop by, but Finnick recently returned from his lacrosse camp in Maine just yesterday.

I don't even bother to knock anymore as I approach the front door. It's casual—I just barge in and toss my shoes off.

"About time you got here, Peeta," Cato says. He's standing in the kitchen making a smoothie. He's tossing a bunch of fruit in there along with glops of plain yogurt.

"Whatever," I retort. "Don't be a fatty and hog all the food. Can I get something to eat? I'm starving." The only things I can do are bake bread and make cake pops but that's okay; Cato here knows how to cook.

"Here, I'll make this smoothie for you." In goes another handful of blueberries.

"So what's up then?" I ask him after observing him for a bit.

Cato flips his already-perfect blonde hair. I see it's still a little damp, probably from his shower after running. "Well," he starts. "School starts tomorrow so we have to have a game plan."

I scoff. "A game plan?"

"Yeah. Things we're going to do, like stuff losers into a locker."

I can tell Cato is joking, but still. It makes me uneasy. "That's mean Cato, stop."

"I was just joking! Relax."

I give him a glare and then continue my thoughts. "So, a plan, like what girls we're gonna pick up this year? Katniss ishot. Maybe I'll lead my soccer team to Nationals this year. It's plausible. Are you talking about that kind of plan?" I look at the dark screen of my phone to check my reflection. My hair, unlike Cato's, is a complete mess.

"Cool. And as the Captain of the Lax team," here, Cato proudly puffs out his broad chest, "Maybe I'll lead my team to some worldwide championship."

I can't help but laugh at his little joke. The lacrosse team isn't bad, but Panem Fourteen High School is more known for its soccer teams than any other sport or activity. "Good luck with that," I tell him. I change the subject back to the girl I've had my eye on for a while. Cato should have some good tips on trying to get the girl I want, and maybe I'll get a headstart. After all, he's practically a god in our high school. Girls would do anything to date him. I think his dick might be the Holy Grail around these parts.

"So going back to Katniss. I, um, really like her, so this year I'll see if I can make move. Maybe I'll ask her to prom. But she's so…intimidating. I mean, she's sexy and strong and…What the hell do I do?"

Cato gives a forced chuckle. What's up with that? Cato has dated a few hot girls before, so he should have some good insight.

"First, you destroy everything she loves. Then you say that you admire her fat ass and ugly face. She probably has herpes or something. I don't know. You could do so much better than her, Peeta." Cato's voice continued to grow softer. I see that his usually cocky smile is now replaced by straight line of pursed lips.

Strike two. He better watch what he says. "Not cool Cato. Seriously."

He doesn't respond. He just continues chopping up strawberries. Damn, that's going to be one big smoothie. Finally, he caps the entire concoction. He places a firm hand on the top as he switches on the blender.

Wwwhhhhhhhhiiiirrrrrrrr gghghghchtch whiirr

Cato stops the blender to see if the contents have been crushed and mixed enough.

"So?" I try again. "Any thoughts on her? You know," I start, leaning against the counter on my elbows, "I only want her. You can have the rest of the ladies so it's fine." I shoot him an acknowledging look.

The blender goes off again. No response. Cato can be such an ass sometimes, just blowing me off.

The thing sounds like a drill. A smooth drill. It's still loud enough to drown out wordsand any other extraneous noises.

I glance back to Cato. I see he's trying to say something, but I can't read his lips right.

"WHAT? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY?" I yell, trying to overcome the decibels of the mixer.

Cato says the same thing. His lips form the same words again.

I love you.

My head cocks to the right, one eyebrow quirked up. What?

Finally the stupid whizzer stops. It's silent again. The slush slush of my smoothie seems all too loud.

"Wait, so what were you trying to say before?" I ask. 'I love you'. Really? Is this his idea of some stupid, perverted joke?

"Olive juice. That's what I said. Maybe you could use some olive juice." I see a pink blush heat up his normally fair skin. Huh?

"Olive juice goes in martinis, stupid," I lightly respond. Why is he blushing? An uncomfortable feeling sets in my stomach. Olive juice? Or I love you? I feel like…Cato's hiding something.

He stays silent. No harsh, half-joking retort. That's strange for him. Instead, he starts to silently pour the refreshing drinking into a tall glass cup nearby.

"Here," he finally says. His expression is more serious, more stoic. He slides the glass down to me and I gratefully take a few sips from it. It's pretty good, just like everything else he makes.

I carefully watch him. He sighs and stares off somewhere. Then he looks back to me.

"If you want Katniss, just show her that you love her. Do everything for her. Make Katniss happy." He leans on the counter ever so slightly as he gazes at me. We both have the same sunlight hair and blue eyes, but we're both very different too. His hair is lighter, more pure. Mine is more golden, like the color of wheat. His eyes are icy while I think mine seem to reflect some paradise ocean. He's looming with a barrel for a chest and his biceps are probably bigger than mine. He's more muscle-y, more imposing while I'm a little leaner and shorter, and definitely more gentle. I take his advice seriously and nod.

"Thanks Cato. I'm shooting Finnick a text to see if we can meet up later. Wanna come with?" I ask, pulling out my phone. I know Cato already hung out with him but hey, the more the merrier.

"Maybe. I don't know. I was planning to go and workout today. I was going to bring you along to lift some weights but you probably have better things to do now." He sounds dejected but he flashes me a smile. A…sad smile.

"Oh. Okay then. I'm sorry Cato." Our eyes meet and for a second my heart stops. He's looking at me with so much…intensity. So much fervor. It scares me.

I drain about half of my cup. "Well, I gotta go. See you tomorrow, okay? First day of school, meet me in the parking lot." With that, I take my smoothie with me (I think half the tableware at my house is Cato's) and I'm out the door to see Finnick again. It's been a while; I wish Cato would come. I really enjoy spending time with him.

Once again, my legs carry me across the lawn. It's warm today. For me, it's the last day of freedom. It's the last day of summer. I look back over my shoulder to see if I could still catch a glimpse of him through the large bay windows and see how he's dealing with his last day. I just see him in the kitchen, holding his face in his hands. Weird.

Show her that you love her. Do everything for her. Make her happy. That was some pretty deep feedback. Cato said it so passionately, like it came from his heart. Is he in love? Did he have so passionate summer fling I didn't know about (which would be strange because Cato tells me everything)?

So, olive juice. Huh.

AN: So now you guys know where the title came from! In my mind it's also a bit like symbolism. Cato is trying to cover up his true feelings with something else. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! My updates might get a bit irregular as I'm starting school in a week and I'm also working on another fic. Please let me know if there's anything wrong or if there's any feedback you'd like to give! Review, my fellow readers J