I'm on the train and I just saw Haymitch seconds before boarding. We didn't say anything to one another, we just exchanged a glance. His eyes were sad and at the same time happy. I don't know what to make of that. I am thinking about this, when I notice Peeta is talking to me.
"What?" I ask as I come back to the present.
"Hi, my name is Peeta Mellark."
"I know you. You're the bakers' son."
"Yeah, I am. So, how are you doing?" I'm silent and I stare out the window of the train where everything is a blur. This train is moving so fast that I can't see anything.
"Not much of a talker, I see," Peeta says.
"I just don't see the point being as one of us might have to kill the other." I know I'm being an asshole, but I don't want to get to know Peeta more than I already do. He threw me a loaf of bread and I won't ever be able to repay him. The least I can do is to distance myself from him. I don't want to kill him and if we get to know each other, that will just make that harder when and if the time comes.
"Ok," he says as he stands up and walks away. A few minutes pass before Haymitch walks into the compartment. He nods in my direction before he heads to a table that has food and liquor. And, of course, he goes for the liquor.
"So, when do we start training?" I ask Haymitch. He looks surprised and slightly irritated by my question.
"Where's the ice?" he asks.
"I have no idea. When do we start training?" I ask again with a bit of an edge to my voice.
"Are you really in that much of a hurry to die, Sweetheart?" He says with bitterness in his tone.
"No, quite the opposite!" I spit out angrily.
"Wow, are you always this friendly? You won't last long in the Games, so I see no point in wasting my breath on you, Sweetheart!" His voice is dripping with sarcasm and he has this smug smile on his face, the bastard.
"You're an asshole, you know that?" My voice is raised and I'm ready to punch him in the face.
"Oh, am I hurting your feelings, Sweetheart?" he asks, taking another drink.
"Stop calling me that!" I yell. I'm so angry that I get up and knock his drink out of his hand. His eyes go wide with shock, which quickly turns to anger. I guess I really struck a nerve, because he gets in my face. His breath smells strongly of alcohol. Surprisingly, I like the smell. He may be an asshole, but he is a strangely alluring asshole.
"You want to know how to survive? You get people to like you. That is how you get sponsors, and seeing as you have as much charm as a dead possum, you won't last a day, Sweetheart!," he snarls. I am about to slap him, when he catches my wrist and pushes me against the wall. We are close, pressed against each other, and we are both angry. I am completely taken by surprise and I don't know what to do, so without thinking, I do the only thing I can think of; I kiss him hard and rough. He puts his hands on my face to push back, but I grab the back of his head with my free hand and bite his lip in an effort to keep him here and kissing me. I don't know why I'm doing this, but I don't want it to stop. I expect him to try to pull back again, but instead, he surprises me for the second time as he kisses me back.
AN: Hope you like the chapter. Tell me what you think and please review.