Catching Fire (The Hunger Games, #2)

by Suzanne Collins

Peeta would lose it if he knew I was thinking any of this, so I only say, “So what should we do with our last few days?” “I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you,” Peeta replies. “Come on, then,” I say, pulling him into my room. It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows. “No nightmares,” he says. “No nightmares,” I confirm. “You?” “None. I’d forgotten what a real night’s sleep feels like,” he says. We lie there for a while, in no rush to begin the day. Tomorrow night will be the televised interview, so today Effie and Haymitch should be coaching us. More high heels and sarcastic comments, I think. But then the redheaded Avox girl comes in with a note from Effie saying that, given our recent tour, both she and Haymitch have agreed we can handle ourselves adequately in public. The coaching sessions have been canceled. “Really?” says Peeta, taking the note from my hand and examining it. “Do you know what this means? We’ll have the whole day to ourselves.” “It’s too bad we can’t go somewhere,” I say wistfully. “Who says we can’t?” he asks. The roof. We order a bunch of food, grab some blankets, and head up to the roof for a picni...