You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

What happens when we get back?
I don't know. I guess we try and forget.
I don't want to forget.

Let me go!” I snarl at him, trying to wrest my arm from his grasp.

“I can’t,” he says.

What was that you were saying just before the food arrived? Something about me...no competition...best thing that ever happened to you..."

"I don't remember that last part," I say, hoping it's too dim in here for the cameras to pick up my blush.

"Oh, that's right. That what I was thinking," he says.

I remember everything about you," says Peeta, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "You're the one who wasn't paying attention.

Sick and disoriented, I'm able to form only one thought: Peeta Mellark just saved my life.