
I have a problem, Miss Everdeen. A problem that began the moment you pulled out those poisonous berries in the arena.

“Ally.” Peeta says the words slowly, tasting it. “Friend. Lover. Victor. Enemy. Fiancee. Target. Mutt. Neighbor. Hunter. Tribute. Ally. I’ll add it to the list of words I use to try to figure you out. The problem is, I can’t tell what’s real anymore, and what’s made up.”
(Source: trytowinforher)