He frosted under heavy guard.

We're supposed to be making up this stuff, playing at being in love, not actually being in love.

Katniss, there is no District Twelve.

Making knots. Making knots. No word. Making knots. Tick-tock. This is a clock. Do not think of Gale. Do not think of Peeta. Making knots.

It's your own fault for being so camera-ready," I tell Gale. If looks could kill.

You could do a lot worse.

I can't help comparing what I have with Gale to what I'm pretending to have with Peeta. How I never question Gale's motives while I do nothing but doubt the latter's. It's not a fair comparison really. Gale and I were thrown together by a mutual need to survive. Peeta and I know the other's survival means our own death. How do you sidestep that?