Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair.
…I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me.
“I do”, I say. “I need you.”So before he can talk, I stop his lips with a kiss. I feel that thing again. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.
“But more excitement to come! It’s time to choose our boy tribute!” Clearly hoping to contain her tenuous hair situation, she plants one hand on her head as she crosses to the ball that contains the boys’ names and grabs the first slip she encounters. She zips back to the podium and I don’t even have time to wish for Gale’s safety when she’s reading the name.
“Peeta Mellark!”
(Source: mynightmaresareaboutlosingyou)
