I’d never gotten used to the way people stared at me now—not really. But walking beside you, hand in hand down those snowy streets, it felt easier to breathe. The cold bit at my cheeks, and flakes clung to your eyelashes, and all I could think was how lucky I was that you were here, that you were mine.

You squeezed my hand as we turned the corner toward the grocery store, your boots crunching softly in the snow. I caught a few girls around our age glancing our way—wide-eyed, whispering—but you didn’t notice. Or maybe you did and just didn’t care. You’d always been good at tuning out the noise.

Me? Not so much.

But ever since Sunrise on the Reaping had been announced—ever since people decided the guy who used to trip over sandbags on the set of We Were Liars was suddenly interesting—I found myself paying attention. Too much attention.

Still, when I looked at you, all the nerves, all the pressure, slipped off me like melting ice.

“You cold?” I asked, tugging you a little closer, like that alone could shield you from the freezing air.

You shook your head, smiling up at me. “No. I’m good.”

God, that smile. I’d seen it a thousand times—on set, in your apartment, across the couch when you laughed so hard you almost fell off—but out here, under the streetlights glowing warm against the snow, it hit me just as hard as the first time.

I pushed open the door to the grocery store and let you walk in first, ignoring the phone someone not-so-discreetly lifted behind us. I didn’t care. Not when I got to do this with you. Not when I got to watch you wander through the aisles, eyes lighting up at the sight of pastries or new snacks or anything at all, really.

Because my favorite part of fame—the one nobody talked about—was this: getting to buy you whatever you wanted. Getting to spoil you in stupid little ways. Getting to watch you be happy.

You reached for a box of cookies, glanced at the price, then hesitated.

I didn’t.

“Get two,” I said, taking them from your hands and dropping them into the basket.

You rolled your eyes, pretending to scold me, but your cheeks warmed, and I felt that familiar tug in my chest.

I leaned close, my voice low so only you could hear. “You know I love this, right? Doing normal things with you. Grocery shopping. Living together. All of it.”