suzanna-kollinz-acliq-oyunlari-1-hisse-eng

“I remember everything about you,” says Peeta, tucking a
loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the one who
wasn’t paying attention.”
“I am now,” I say.
“Well, I don’t have much competition here,” he says.
I want to draw away, to close those shutters again, but I
know I can’t. It’s as if I can hear Haymitch whispering in my
ear, “Say it! Say it!”
I swallow hard and get the words out. “You don’t have
much competition anywhere.” And this time, it’s me who leans
in.
Our lips have just barely touched when the clunk outside
makes us jump. My bow comes up, the arrow ready to fly, but
there’s no other sound. Peeta peers through the rocks and
then gives a whoop. Before I can stop him, lie’s out in the rain,
then handing something in to me. A silver parachute attached
to a basket. I rip it open at once and inside there’s a feast —
fresh rolls, goat cheese, apples, and best of all, a tureen of that
incredible lamb stew on wild rice. The very dish I told Caesar
Flickerman was the most impressive thing the Capitol had to
offer.
Peeta wriggles back inside, his face lit up like the sun. “I
guess Haymitch finally got tired of watching us starve.”
“I guess so,” I answer.
But in my head I can hear Haymitch’s smug, if slightly exasperated,
words, “Yes, that’s what I’m looking lot, sweetheart.”
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