A oneshot turned multishot (so, a normal fic) written for vampluver19, who was one of the winners for my oneshot drawing over at The Sweetest Mockery. This story is a prequel for The Sweetest Mockery but can stand alone; of course, I highly encourage any new readers to give The Sweetest Mockery a try!

Lust

"Why, that no-good Jon Everdeen! I'm gonna—I'm gonna—oooooh!" Rose's face is bright red as she glares at her beau, who just stole a kiss as he ran past her in the schoolyard.

"I don't think anyone noticed," Maysilee tries to soothe her. "He ran by so fast, I almost didn't catch it, and I'm standing right next to you."

Rose takes a breath, her face slowly returning to its normal complexion. "Oh, May, I can't even be that mad at him. I want to be able to hold his hand in public and go out on a proper date for once. But…" Her voice trails off, but she needn't say any more. Maysilee knows that it's fear of Rose's parents finding out about her secret relationship with a boy from the Seam that's forced the two of them to be discreet. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are extremely vocal about their disdain for those not from the town.

"If only we could all be as lucky as Marj," Maysilee murmurs. Marjorie, her twin, has the fortune of being in love with—and loved in return by—Basil Undersee, of whom their parents thoroughly approve. Good boy, good family, good prospects, what is there not to like?

Rose perks up at that comment. "'We'? May, is there something you're not telling me?"

Now it's Maysilee's turn for her cheeks to flush crimson. "No, that—that was a generic, sympathetic 'we.'"

"Mm-hmm…"

"Hey, look, your boyfriend's stripping."

"What?"

It's a particularly hot May day. The Seam boys who have been kicking around a worn, old soccer ball have opted to shuck their modesty and their shirts amid the heat. Jon Everdeen drops his pullover on the ground, winks saucily at Rose, and lunges into the fray, shouting, "Pass it here, Haymitch!"

Maysilee's breath catches in her throat, and her palms, dry a second ago, grow sweaty. Unbidden, her gaze falls upon Jon's friend as he deftly kicks the ball over. Haymitch has preceded Jon in shedding unnecessary layers, unabashed about the vast expanse of sweat-glistening skin on display. Unlike the town boys, with their paleness and soft bellies, and the other Seam boys, with their skeletal frames and hollows, Haymitch is sun-kissed and swarthy, tall and strong, broad-shouldered and solid. His, Jon's, and Dell Hawthorne's bodies are all the proof one would need of their hunting expeditions beyond the fence. Although still on the underfed side, the boys—and their families—are clearly not on the brink of starvation. And you don't get lean muscles like theirs without hard work.

Those muscles of Haymitch's flex and ripple as he fights with someone over the ball. Haymitch emerges victorious, and with uncanny speed he weaves through the other team and fires the ball into the makeshift goal. His side cheers, and Jon and Dell high-five him just as the warning bell for the end of lunch rings. The players scatter, scooping up their shirts from the ground.

As Jon chats with Haymitch, he looks over again at Rose and smiles. Haymitch follows his friend's gaze and nods at Rose. Then his eyes flick over toward Maysilee.

She waves tentatively.

He nods at her too.

Her heart plummets a little.

As Haymitch jogs off in search of his girlfriend, though, Maysilee can't help watching him go. The heat of the day has suddenly become unbearable; she ignores the longing seeping through her veins. Rose tells her she looks particularly flushed, asks her if she's all right, and Maysilee brushes off her concern. It's just the heat.

But after school, in the cool library (the school library, which is really the town library, which isn't really a library at all but a dusty room sparse with books that almost no one has touched in the last century), she doesn't have that excuse anymore. Maysilee is in her little corner by the window, paging through old plays and songs and poems, when all of a sudden she's no longer alone.

"So that's where all those books have gone."

Maysilee feels that electrifying shiver that's been showing up lately every time she hears Haymitch's gravelly voice. She hides it well and only looks up to see where he's looking: her little stash of her favorite books, hidden in the hollow compartment beneath the bottom shelf. "Is there a problem?" she asks sweetly.

"Stealing library books, Donner? For shame."

"It's not stealing if they've never left the library," she retorts, replacing the shelf so that the compartment is out of sight once more. "Besides, it's not like anyone else ever comes in here."

Haymitch gestures at himself, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, did you want to be put in the compartment too? I don't know if you'll fit."

Despite himself, Haymitch chuckles. And then he joins her in her corner, cracking open his own reading material. Inches away from her. Maysilee can see the dark lashes framing his gray eyes, every snarl in his unkempt curls, illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the window, and she feels the urge to bury her fingers in those twisted locks, dragging his head closer—

She inhales sharply.

"You all right, Maysilee?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just—a little cramp in my leg, that's all." Maysilee resolutely focuses her gaze on her book. But even though she's no longer looking at him, she can still smell him. There's the dried sweat from the game at lunch, not as unpleasant as one would think. There's his unique, underlying 'Haymitch' scent, of pine and soap and something musky and dark that makes heat pool in her stomach. And, strangely, there's something more floral—

Girlfriend. He has a girlfriend.

The reminder makes her feel as if she's been doused in icy water. She shoves her book back into the secret compartment and stands up, making her excuses, before hurrying out of the library. She doesn't look back, but she can feel those gray eyes watching her go.

That night, Maysilee stares up at the ceiling as Marjorie sleeps soundly beside her. Her mind is too full of a boy who shines in the sun, a boy who smells like the woods she's never been in, a boy whose very voice makes her tremble to the core. God, she doesn't even like Haymitch that much! He's rude, sarcastic, arrogant, holier-than-thou—

She feels overly warm again, and she casts off the covers with a quiet groan. Maysilee turns her head to look at Marj, whose dreams are probably sweet and wholesome, filled with Basil Undersee, who acts like a gentleman and as if Marj is a princess.

If only we could all be as lucky.

The next installment should hopefully be up before long. Reviews are very very very much appreciated! I always respond to comments, and if you get a review in soon-ish, I might send you a tiny snippet preview of the next chapter! (It'd have to be very tiny, though, since these chapters aren't anywhere near as long as The Sweetest Mockery's chapters.)

Thanks for reading!