When this had first started, Annie had thought she'd been realistic. The Games had instilled in her an unshakable wariness, and she'd understood that her life would never fully be her own. The Capitol could come in and make demands at any time—Finnick's busy schedule had been proof of that. Yet, she'd fooled herself into thinking they might have something approaching a normal relationship, that they might maybe, someday, be able to live together. In her wildest, most secret teenage dreams, she'd imagined a family, too, and a quieter life once they were old enough for the Capitol to have grown tired of them.

Now there would only be these stolen moments, she realized, and even those had to remain secret, away from prying eyes. Yet, the idea of giving them up was unthinkable. She'd take what little she could get.

"I wish it wasn't so cold, we could camp," she said, gooseflesh rising on her arms in the wake of Finnick's roaming hands. Use of boats and anything related to them was strictly regulated, but there was a little cave carved out of a bluff a couple of miles away where they'd stolen kisses before. Here, she wasn't sure how they'd manage much privacy between Finnick's family and her own.