I reach out to touch his cheek and he catches my hand and presses it against his lips.

Yeah, about that,” says Peeta, entwining his fingers in mine. “Don’t try something like that again.” “Or what?” I ask. “Or . . . or . . .” He can’t think of anything good. “Just give me a minute.

I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.

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.

Peeta: You be nice to her, Finnick. Or I might try and take her away from you. Finnick: Oh, Peeta. Don't make me sorry I restarted your heart.

You don’t forget the face of the person who was your last hope.

for some reason Gale and Peeta do not coexist well in my thoughts.