We have definite instructions from our mentors to perform as if we don't know each other. Because if we act like acquaintances, it's a vulnerability. Even though I despise it, and I know that Cato does also, we obey. If that's what it takes to come out alive, then it's worth it, right?
So when we arrive at training, we go our separate ways, with no more than a nod of the head. I automatically make my way to the knives, eager to take my position high in the tribute hierarchy. After I've embedded roughly ten blades into the mannequin opposite of me, I hear a shrill giggle. I spin around in curiosity. A pang of bitterness darts through my chest when I recognize the blonde District One girl. What was her name? Glitter? Shimmer? No wait...it was Glimmer. The stupid names that the people in district one give their children. Ugh. Anyhow, she's over near the swords, tittering tirelessly about something ludicrous, her mouth tugging into a manipulative smile as she chats with my...well, my...with Cato! I scowl, my fist clenching around the handle of my knife. Let's just say that I imagine that the target is Glimmer's face and throw my next blade with increased intensity, satisfied as it buries itself in the center with a thunk.
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This new one-sided flirtationship proceeds endlessly until the last day of training when my final session of knife throwing is disrupted by someone tapping me on the shoulder. When I spin around, Glimmer's standing over me, her eyes pinning me down as I glare back up at her.
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"What?" I snarl, virulence explicit in my voice.
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"You're from District Two, right?" She questions, her eyes flickering to the number two on my sleeve.
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"Clearly," I mutter, rolling my eyes at her ignorance.
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"So you know Cato?"
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"I guess..." I lie through my teeth, shrugging as if it isn't such a huge deal. 'Yes, I know him! I know him better than anybody else! I know what it's like to kiss him, to hold his hand...I know so damn well!' I chew my lip, disregarding the screaming in my head. "What does it matter?"
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"So...does he have a girlfriend back at home? I mean, he's really good-looking..." She giggles, her high-pitched laugh making me want to force the point of my knife into her perfect face, painstakingly twisting and twisting it deeper into her skin until all that's left of the girl who is attempting to steal Cato is a distorted, nasty, gory, mess.
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"Why don't you go ask him?" I murmur, returning to my beloved target, prepared to chuck every knife at the make-believe Glimmer, AKA the dummy.
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I glimpse over my shoulder, a pit wrenching in my stomach as Glimmer taps Cato on the arm, catching his attention. I watch as she flirtatiously fiddles with a curl of her hair, her smile a deception, one of a serial killer, impersonating the role of a delightful girl with a crush on an older boy.
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Cato's eyes flicker to me, and he notices my agitated expression.
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Glimmer quickly notices that he is no longer listening to her nonsensical attempts at flirting, and she trails off, following his gaze, confusion scrawled all over her face.
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I whip around, making it seem as if I'm concentrating on my knives when my mind is unquestionably somewhere else.
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"Yes," I hear Cato's response just as I'm aiming my weapon. I'm startled by his statement, and the knife leaves my hand, clattering to the ground as it avoids the target altogether.
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"Who?" Glimmer demands slowly, her eyebrows knitting together, suspicion gleaming in her eyes as she looks back and forth between the two of us, everything belatedly summing up in her head. "What's her name?"
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Cato shoulders past her, visibly agitated. "That's none of your business."
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"Is it knife girl?" Glimmer shouts after him, her high-pitched voice reverberating through the training center, reticence spreading through the room as everyone's eyes turn to observe the spectacle. "Is knife girl your girlfriend?"
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"Why do you care?!" Cato bellows, flinging his hands up in exasperation and trying to ditch Glimmer.
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She stalks him around the room, commanding that he acknowledge her inquiries. She makes the most idiotic move, slapping him to attempt to get his attention. If she knew him as well as I do, she'd understand that Cato gets worked up very quickly and has slight anger issues. It shows when he whips around and pummels her directly in the jaw.
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She whimpers and knees him in the stomach, prompting him to groan.
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That's it! No one messes with my...my...Cato! My belt of knives crashes to the ground as I run full force at Glimmer, sending her tumbling to the ground. She shrieks, pathetically trying to strike my face, but I pin her down first and bring my fist down on her throat first, then her nose.
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Training assistants hasten to tear us apart, and as soon as I'm off of the ground, I try to break loose, but Cato grasps my shoulders.
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"Just leave it alone," he murmurs. "She's not worth the trouble."
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He binds his arms around my waist, benevolently restraining me.
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Glimmer glares at me, blood trickling from her nose. "So you are his girlfriend! I hope you go to hell knife girl!"
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Cato leans his chin on my head and tightens his grasp on me, undoubtedly sensing my fuming hatred. "Don't."
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But I shout one final thing as Glimmer stalks away, dabbing at her nose tenderly.
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"Watch your back, District One!"
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Cato catches my hand and guides me to a sequestered corner.
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"Well, we screwed that up," I sigh, running a hand down the side of my face in exasperation.
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"Well, not really," Cato takes my hands and smiles, inching closer. "We might have more of an advantage now that they know about us."
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My heart skips a beat. Us. I mean, there was that one time when he kissed me behind the training center and all of the times that he's intertwined our fingers and kissed my cheek to tell me goodbye. But it was always a complicated and unconfirmed affair. And that's how we liked it.
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As if he's reading my thoughts, the next thing that Cato says is, "We never actually made it official,"
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I stare up at him, watching the gears turn in his head, his thought process a complex one.
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He runs a hand through his blonde tresses and sighs. "I'd ask you to be my girlfriend...but we'll be in the arena in a few days. As far as we know, we could be dead in a week."
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I bite my lip. "You know what? Screw that. Screw the arena, screw the capitol, screw death...screw it all," I watch as he hesitates. "C'mon, Cato! We're careers, for heaven's sake! We both know that we'll be alive in a week."
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He chuckles, his smug, trademark grin returning to his face, prompting a smirk to tug at my lips.
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"You're right," he cups my cheek in his hand, his eyes searching my face. "So, Clover? Want the pleasure of being able to call me your boyfriend?"
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I tantalize him, cocking my head in mock consideration. "Maybe..."
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I place my hand on the back of his head, pulling his face down to mine. And I kiss him because I don't care. I don't care who's watching. I don't care if all of Panem knows my weakness. I don't care if I could be dead in one month. I just kiss him like he's the only thing that exists because, to me, he is. And he kisses me too.
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When he pulls back, he smiles softly. "I guess that's a yes then?"
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I roll my eyes...but inside, I'm melting.
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