Peeta's Point

I sat bantering to the blue haired man beside me. My every word monitored by the audience. He asks me if I have girlfriend back at home. I shake my head in fear of having to confess in front of all these blood-thirsty people entertained by gruesome deaths. He says "Handsome lad like you. There must be some special girl. Come on, what's her name?"

I let out a deep breath and hesitantly reply " Well, there is this one girl. I've had a crush on her ever since I can remember. But I'm pretty sure she didn't know I was alive until the reaping." Sympathising sounds scattered across the hall.

The icy skinned man is curious to know if she has a 'fellow' as he calls it. "I don't know, but a lot of boys like her," I respond.

"So, here's what you do. You win, you go home. She can't turn you down then, eh?" advises the sky coloured man.

Thoughts race through my head of her. I can't believe in a world in which she doesn't exist. If I win there isn't a reason to live happily anymore; she won't be here. Before I could even think my mouth retorts back at the blue man "I don't think it's going to work out. Winning... won't work in my case."

"Why ever not?" the blue lips question.

I start burning up and unconsciously glance in her direction. Oh crap! She's staring at me. Of course she'd be if I'm in the centre stage. She looks so radiant and beautiful I almost lose myself in her dark luscious brown hair accompanied with those twinkling silver eyes. I think it may not matter if the whole country knows I love her as long as she knows herself. So I stumble out the words "Because... because... she came here with me ."