KATNISS

As the four of us girls sat on the dark blue sectional couch in the living room, the warmth radiated in from outside through the open windows. It was Labor Day weekend, and in the streets the neighborhood kids were running off the last heat of summer while myself, my sister, and my two best friends pre-gamed for our last free night before classes started up again.

It wasn't as weird as I thought, taking a shot in front of Prim. In fact, when she threw the little glass back, she looked almost more experienced than I did.

I narrowed my gray eyes at her. "Don't get too good at this."

She gave me a crooked smile, her periwinkle eyes alight with mischief. "No, never," she said, and then threw her head back with laughter. She was already tipsy.

I wanted to catch up. I reached out to grab another shot from Johanna, but she pulled her hand away from me. "Slow down," she said, palms up. "We haven't even left yet. You're gonna want to have enough synapses to unlock your phone and call the Uber." She took a strand of my hair between her fingers. "You're already brainless enough dyeing your hair this god-awful red."

"It's auburn," Madge said, standing up for me.

I scoffed and rolled my eyes. "What the fuck ever," I grumbled, then yanked the tequila out of her grip. "If you'll remember correctly, I just found the love of my life in bed with a Loyola slut."

No one had any objections then. Madge rested a hand on my shoulder in solidarity, but I brushed her off. I didn't want sympathy; I was too angry. I wanted to get drunk and forget about the image of Gale in bed with Clove, a spritely girl who looked strikingly like me, except much younger.

"She could've been 12," I spat. "He's a pig."

"A disgusting pig," Prim said. "You deserve better."

"I know that!" I said, throwing my hands up. "I know that."

"Fuck men," Johanna said, pouring another round of drinks. "Fuck them all. Seriously, Katniss. That's the best way you can get back at him, just start whoring around like crazy."

I raised my upper lip in her direction. "Please," I said. "Why do you think he cheated on me in the first place?"

"Because he's a rat bastard?" Madge asked, giggling into her glass.

"Well, that," I said, taking a tiny cup from Jo. "And because he would always say, oh, Katniss, you're so pure, you're so different from other girls, blah, blah, blah. I had thought it was a good thing. Shows how fuckin' stupid I am."

"Stop it," Prim said, gripping my wrist firmly. "You're not stupid. He's the one who cheated."

"Yeah, you're amazing," Madge said, slurring a bit. She pointed a wobbly finger in my direction. "You. Are. Amazing."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Thanks, Madge."

"Okay, I'm done wasting time here with you bitches. I want to fucking dance," Johanna said. "Katniss, call the Uber. We're going."

The Uber was much smaller than we anticipated, so Prim ended up having to sit on my lap. I wrapped my arms around her small waist and rested my temple between her shoulder blades, feeling her breathe in and out rhythmically as the buildings whooshed by on Lincoln Avenue on the way to the Gold Coast.

It had been Johanna's idea to go to Room Seven. As a group, we had been there a couple times before. Even Prim had been there earlier in the summer, and though I'd spent the entire time worrying about her, she'd had a good time.

As we got closer, Prim turned her head so she could talk to me. "Are you okay?" she asked, reaching down and capping a hand over my knee.

"I will be," I said quietly, not wanting the other two to hear. Prim was the only person in the world who I shared my emotions with. I used to try now and again with Gale, but that wasn't really his thing. We were alike in that way. We were alike in a lot of ways. "I just need tonight to kind of, I don't know, make me forget about all this shit."

"He was never good enough for you," she said, sitting sideways so she could look into my eyes. "Really. I always thought that."

"Well, thanks," I said, although her words didn't make me feel much better. Because at one point, he was my everything. We met in our sophomore year at DePaul, where now Prim was going to be a freshman and I was going into my senior year. He was an exercise science major and I was public administration. Our paths would have never crossed if Madge hadn't dragged me to the beginning of the year pep rally where Gale accidentally shoved me over as he roughhoused with the rest of the basketball team outside the gym doors. He gave me a black eye when his elbow hit my face, but for some reason after that we just clicked. I thought he was the one; I really had thought we were going to spend the rest of our lives together.

In fact, two nights before I found him in bed with the homewrecker, we had had great sex. I had no idea that anything was wrong. If someone would have told me that two days later I would find her in the bed that I shared with him at his place, I would've laughed and totally ignored it.

When I found them, he had begged and pleaded with me; pulling on my wrists and insisting that it had been a one-time thing and she meant nothing to him. The look on her face told me that all that was coming from his mouth were more and more lies.

I packed up my stuff right then and left. I hoped I'd never see him again.

"He's a piece of shit, Katniss," Johanna said as we pulled up. "Stop fucking thinking about him, because I know you are."

I frowned and bit the inside of my cheek. It was hard to think of anything else.

We waited in line for a long time before we got to the front and the bouncer let us in. When we got inside, mostly all the lights were off, but the ones that stayed on were blue. They cast a strange light around the place; one that made everything inside seem not totally real. I liked it. I surveyed the area to see if I spotted anyone else I knew, but saw no familiar faces. When I turned back to say something to my group of girls, I found that they had all dispersed; Prim had found someone she recognized from orientation, Johanna was with a girl and Madge was at the bar already chatting up the bartender. And I was left alone. Some friends they were.

I made my way over to the bar that Madge wasn't at and ordered a vodka soda, which I downed as quickly as I could. I took the lime off the rim of the glass and rested it on my napkin off to the side.

"Another one, please," I said, and one appeared in front of me just like that.

I didn't take that one any slower, and as the night passed and I got drunker the little tower of limes I had made became more and more amusing.

My head was resting in one palm and I'd totally lost track of time when I saw a tall, sturdy blonde man walking in my direction. He smiled, and I pivoted around to look behind me to see where the lucky girl that he was looking at was.

When I turned back around, he was chuckling and making his way through more throngs of people. I pointed to myself and mouthed "me?" He nodded.

Holy shit. I felt my palms start to sweat and my heart rate sped up so much that I could feel it from the tips of my toes all the way to the tips of my ears.

Once he made it over to me, he leaned against the bar and stuck his hand out. "I'm Peeta," he said. He gestured to the barstool next to me. "Is this taken?" I shook my head no, and attempted a smile. I suddenly felt conscious of my badly dyed hair, my drunkenness, and my less-than-ideal state of mind. I didn't want to meet him like this, but at the same time I was already picturing him naked.

He sat down next to me and ordered a drink that I couldn't quite hear, then asked me a question I couldn't quite understand. I smiled in response, and then he picked up the top lime from my pile. "You know, these are the best part," he said.

I widened my eyes. "You're fucking crazy," I said. "Help yourself."

He popped the limes in his mouth one by one, discarding the rinds on the same napkin he had taken them from.

At that point, I was too far gone to carry on much more conversation. I didn't want to let him go, though, and the alcohol was making me surprisingly brazen.

I downed the rest of my drink and handed him the lime from it, which he readily took. I noticed that whatever alcohol that had been in his clear glass was gone, too.

"I'm not trying to be forward," I said, shouting over the din of the music. "But I can't hear worth shit, I'm drunk off my ass and I really want to get in a car with you."

A smile broke onto his face and it made my stomach turn. "Thank god you said something," he said, standing up from the barstool and taking me with him. "I had no idea how I was going to say it without sounding like a pig."

PEETA

Upon walking in, I knew I was too old for Room Seven. It hadn't been my idea, it had been Finnick's, though he wasn't younger than me by much. We'd been having a shitty few weeks at work – each new grant writer I hired was dropping like a fly before they could make it a month and the kids we helped were suffering because of it. Boys & Girls Clubs in Chicago need a lot of funding, and that was something that we were not getting. And with the school year pressing down on us, it was crucial that our numbers go back up. It was obvious we needed a night to stop worrying about work, so Finnick roped me, Haymitch and Cato to come out and have a good time.

All I had done so far was drink way too much and ignore everything that they were saying. Nothing was of much intelligence anyway, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of a girl sitting alone at the bar, hunched over her multiple vodka sodas.

She had come in with a group of friends about an hour before; a tall brunette with close-cropped hair and two blondes, one of which looked so much like her in the face that I could only assume that they were sisters. The group dispersed almost immediately and the redhead – I wouldn't even really call her that, it was more of an auburn – sat by herself at the bar. As I drank, it was hard for me to keep track of how many not only I had, but that she had, too.

"Who the fuck are you staring at, Peet?" Cato asked, punching my shoulder. "You've hardly said a single thing all night. Did you go mute?" He waved a hand in front of my eyes.

"Mute people can still see, dumbass."

They all dissolved into a round of cackles at that one.

"Go talk to her," Finnick said, after the laughter died down.

"She's fuckin' sexy," Cato said, inappropriate as usual. "Mm, you can see a little bit of skin on her back there. Damn, Mellark. I didn't know you had a boner for redheads."

"I don't," I insisted, and swigged my drink.

"She's alone. What's the harm?" Finnick asked. "The worst she can say is no."

"I don't need coaching," I said defensively. "I've done this before. Need I remind you, I was married."

"The key word there…was," Haymitch pointed out.

True. My wife and I were in the middle of a separation that was proving to be quite long and drawn-out, much different compared to how quick TV and movies make divorce seem.

"We all know you need to get back out there," Cato said. "Glimmer was a bitch."

"Cato, come on," I said, giving him a look.

"Okay, okay," he said, putting his hands up. "Sorry. But she was. She was horrible to you, dude."

"She had her reasons," I said. "It was hard on both of us."

"That's totally beside the point," Finnick said, getting up from where he sat to sit next to me on the low couch I was on. "The point is that you want her. Her, that sexy little thing just waiting for you over there."

"Don't be a pig," I said.

"No one's being a pig!" he laughed. "Well, except Cato, but he's always a pig."

Cato nodded, his eyebrows raised.

"You're you. Go up there and charm her. Go home with her or don't. I don't give a fuck. You're a grown man, do what you want. But I'm just saying, you're holding your own self back and you shouldn't be. You're Peeta fucking Mellark, for god's sake."

"Why do I feel like you're giving me a motivational speech?" I asked.

"Because I am," Finnick said, but then rolled his eyes. "If you don't wanna listen, keep on drinking and staring. See if any of us care. But none of us want to see you waste this opportunity of a girl who you've been eye-fucking since she walked in."

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he tipped his head to one side. I knew he was right, that I did need to get back out there. And Jesus Christ, she was beautiful. Even just staring at her back, which I had been doing for most of the night, she was beautiful.

I really wanted her.

I stood up from my chair and the guys cheered, so I turned around and flipped them the bird. That didn't do a thing to discourage them; they just collapsed against each other in a fit of drunken laughter. I was tipsy myself, not totally drunk, but I was definitely feeling all that I had drank throughout the night.

My whole body buzzed as I made my way to her. She had sat up and was looking at me, and I gave her what I hoped was a nice smile. She looked confused, turned around to look behind her, then turned back around and pointed to her chest.

"Me?" she mouthed.

I laughed. She seriously thought that I'd be looking at anyone else in this insufferable club. I nodded and closed the distance between us, leaning on the bar with one elbow when I finally got to her. She smelled fresh and clean, unlike the general scent of this bar, and she was tucking her hair behind her ears over and over again.

"I'm Peeta," I introduced myself with a handshake that I found unnecessary the second after I did it. "Is this taken?" I asked, nodding towards the seat next to her. She shook her head and grinned at me, the corners of her pink lips pulling up just slightly. I sat down on the barstool and ordered a rum and coke, then asked her if she came here often. It was a stupid question, cliché at the very best, but she didn't really answer. She just smiled at me, and I guessed that she probably couldn't hear me.

I saw a pile of about five or six limes that she had made on a napkin, gone completely untouched. I reached across her and picked one up, then said, "You know, these are the best part."

She raised her eyebrows and made a face. "You're fucking crazy. Help yourself."

So I did. I took the limes and sucked the juice from them one by one until only the rinds were left. I could feel both her eyes and all of my friends' eyes on me, watching what I'd do next.

After I was finished with the sour fruit, she sucked down the rest of her drink and looked at me with fire in her eyes; eyes that I couldn't see the color of because of the blue tint to this room.

"I'm not trying to be forward," she shouted over the noise, "but I can't hear worth shit, I'm drunk off my ass and I really want to get in a car with you."

My whole body flooded with a feeling I didn't recognize, but it felt like something close to relief and euphoria. "Thank god you said something," I said, standing up from the stool and wrapping an arm around the small of her back. She was small, but muscular at the same time. "I had no idea how I was going to say it without sounding like a pig."

As we made our way through the thick crowds of people, she kept pace with me and stayed close to my side. I tightened my hand on her opposite hip and noticed how she kept her eyes ahead, not looking back once.

The way she moved was fluid and graceful, like someone who really knew how to use their body. Even the sight of her shoulder blades jutting out of the openings on the back of her dress had me worked up; I couldn't wait to see more of her and I had a feeling it wouldn't be much longer before that happened.

When we got outside, she pulled out her phone to call taxi, but I tried to stop her. "I'll do that," I said, but the look she gave me when I spoke made me stop dialing.

"No, we can go to my place," she said. "I share with my sister, but she won't be home." She pressed the buttons to call the car before I had a chance to object.

I didn't fight her. As we waited for the car, we didn't talk much, but she grabbed my hand and interlaced her fingers together with mine. Her hand was small, so much so that it made me narrow my eyes at her just slightly and ask how old she was.

"I'm 22," she spat, her eyes dancing with a ferocity that I hadn't thought they could possess. "How old are you?"

"28," I said, laughing. "Happy now?"

She smiled; slow at first, and then so much so that it lit up her whole face. I practically collapsed to the ground at the sight of it.

Our car arrived only moments later, and by the time it pulled up we were both laughing uncontrollably about something that I couldn't remember saying. Or maybe she said it, I couldn't be sure, but we could hardly catch our breath after we shut the door and zoomed away from the club.

"What about your friends?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

She didn't bother with hers. She pushed herself up on her knees and then swung one leg over so she could straddle me. "Fuck them," she said, and planted her lips on mine.

KATNISS

His body under mine in the car felt like nothing I'd never felt before in my life. I couldn't get my hands on him in enough places. I ended up fumbling around and grappling for some part of him to hold onto, and my hands found themselves rooted in his thick, wavy, blonde hair.

He was hard; his dick pressed insistently onto my inner thigh. It only encouraged me. I loved the fact that I had just met this man and had the power to make him hard just like that.

Gale had always taken so long. Every time, he asked me to talk dirty when we both knew that I was no fucking good with words. But every time I'd try, and every time he'd complain that me trying to sound seductive softened his dick more than the thought of his grandma.

With Peeta, I didn't need words.

I pushed my tongue between his lips and he pushed back, keeping up and challenging me in a way that made my heart pound against my chest plate. When our lips broke apart after a hot, heavy kiss, I exhaled shakily into his mouth and he held the back of my head and pulled me back to him, not letting me have a moment's reprieve.

"You taste like limes," I said, smiling.

I couldn't get enough of him. He seemed to know just where to put his hands. One was anchored on the back of my head and the other had a generous grip of my ass under my dress, squeezing the supple skin tight in his callused fingers.

As the car braked at a stoplight, he took the one hand away from my head and planted both of them on my hips with his thumbs pressing into the bones. Our eyes burned into each other; his cheeks were flushed and my body was coated in a sheen of sweat, but we were nowhere near finished.

He kissed the open skin of my chest and slipped one hand back beneath the hem of my dress, running his fingertips over my panties maddeningly gently. "Fuck," he breathed.

I squeezed my eyes shut tight and drew my lower lip between my teeth. I wanted him to touch me – really touch me – so fucking bad. "You're wet."

"I know," I said, and forcefully covered his hand with my own to press him up against me. I set my weight down on his hand and ground my hips, hoping for some sort of friction, but he pulled his hand away. "What…" I sighed.

"We're, um…. 2023 North Bissell?" the driver asked, averting his eyes away from the rearview mirror.

"Oh, yeah," I said, and gathered up my purse. Peeta opened his door and I clambered out, falling onto the pavement in the middle of the residential street because I couldn't keep my drunken self vertical in my heels.

"Shit," I laughed, and Peeta was chuckling too as he pulled me to my feet. The Uber sped away and I led the way up the stairs, ankles wobbling, and unlocked the door.

The apartment was still and quiet; I was the only one home and probably would be for a few more hours. Judging by the clock on the mantel, it wasn't even midnight and I knew that Prim would want to stay out late.

I kicked off my heels and Peeta cast his shoes off, too, and then I pulled him down the hall to my room. It was right across from Prim's; her door was wide open and I could see the streetlights showcasing the light pink walls. I opened up my room and then shut the door behind us, and backed Peeta up against the nearest wall.

I smiled devilishly at him and then began to undo the buttons on his shirt, one by one, uncovering more of his skin as I went along. I pressed one hand against his chest and felt his heart beating through his skin, then ran my fingers up through his chest hair to land gently around his neck.

"You're fucking beautiful," he said to me when I shucked his shirt away from his shoulders.

"Shut up," I said, and worked on his belt. Once I got his pants off of him, he pulled me back to a standing position and yanked my black dress off over my head so I stood before him in a red lacy thong and matching bra.

He drank the sight of me in; I could see his eyes working over my entire body, pausing between my legs and of course, at my chest. "Jesus," he muttered, and walked me backwards toward the bed.

When the insides of my knees hit the mattress, I let my body collapse with them. He crawled overtop of me and opened his mouth against mine, parting his lips and inviting my tongue in, which I readily accepted. I skimmed my hands down his body and then slipped them under the waistband of his boxers so I could grab his ass, and was met with a grunt of approval once I did so. He ground his hips against mine – fabric against fabric – and I whimpered into his mouth.

"I'm gonna need you to fuck me," I said, throwing my head back as he licked a path down my jaw all the way to my bellybutton. He unclasped my bra and dragged his teeth over my nipples, which hardened them to pebbled peaks. My whole body had chills. He took as much of my breast into his mouth as he could and sucked hard, which made my eyes roll back into my head and my hips involuntarily buck against whatever part of him was closest; it just happened to be his thigh.

"I can't…keep dry humping…your leg all night, Peeta," I breathed as he continued to work his mouth against my breast. "Take your shorts off."

He didn't obey; his lips curled in a sly smile and he kissed his way down to the impossibly low waist of my underwear. He pulled them off and I curled my legs up to help him, and he shoved them back down by my knees and pulled my thighs apart.

Gale only ever ate me out on my birthday. Sometimes on other holidays, too, but it was rare. Really rare.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like. Even so, what Gale had attempted to do never felt like what Peeta was capable of.

He held my quivering thighs apart with his hands and ravished me with his tongue, closing his lips around my clit as I screamed and begged for him to keep going. I was panting, squeezing against his hands with the muscles in my legs as hard as I could, but I was no match. My hips thrusted into the air, searching for something to push against, and he followed my movements with his face. When I came, he went at me harder and sucked my clit between his teeth as hard as he could – so hard that I screamed his name until my voice cracked at the top.

He didn't give me a rest once he was finished, either. He pulled his boxers off and slung my knees over his shoulders, then pushed inside me with no warning.

I hadn't gotten a chance to look, but I didn't need to see him to know for a fact that he was well-endowed. He filled me to the point where I thought I might burst. My walls clenched around him as he pumped inside me, pinning my arms down by my wrists. His body was powerful, full of sinewy muscle and confidence, and I let myself be taken over by him as he had his way with me.

With my eyes closed, I felt him use his thumb to rub my clit in tight circles. "Oh, Peeta," I whimpered, letting my legs fall open further to either side.

He moved our bodies around so he was sitting and I was on top of him, my chest at his eye-level. As I undulated my hips over his, he covered my breast with his mouth and closed his eyes when I made him come for the first time that night. He closed his teeth over my breast, but that only made my orgasm come faster and harder. I collapsed against him, pressing every bare part of my body against his, and felt the most intimate parts of us mix together.

I was out of breath and spent by the fifth time he made me come, and so was he. It had gotten late, almost 4 o'clock in the morning, by that time I found my way into his arms and fell asleep with my head against his chest and his hands mapping the small expanse of my back.

I woke up about an hour later feeling unrested yet completely alert. My legs were buzzing with the need to move, and I felt constricted wrapped up in Peeta's strong arms. I gently lifted them away from my body and then covered my chest from the cool draft coming from the slider doors. I rustled around in my dresser and found a t-shirt shaped nightgown to slip on along with a pair of much more modest underwear than I had been wearing just hours before.

I sat on the edge of the bed and saw that Peeta had left his wallet sitting there, right out in the open. I glanced at him to make sure he was still asleep, and when I saw that he was, took the wallet and opened it. It was nice material, he had a good amount of cash in there, too, along with a couple pictures. The first one was a shot of a birthday party for a little kid who was obviously his niece; she was sitting on what had to be Peeta's brother's lap and Peeta was smiling off to the side. The next slot was empty, and then the third one was of him and a tall, blonde woman. An engagement photo of the two of them on the beach, silhouetted by the fading sunlight, gazing lovingly into each other's eyes.

I let the wallet fall back down to my nightstand with a soft clapping sound. I frowned at it, feeling confused and fuzzy over what it could mean. I was still a little drunk, and my synapses weren't connecting right.

Just as I was about to lay back down, his phone buzzed. Once, twice, three times, and the consecutive texts just continued. To shut it up, I right swiped the screen and it came instantly to life, not protected by any sort of passcode. It was a contact under the name of "Finnick" asking where he was, and whose house he ended up at. I silenced the ringer and convinced myself that it was a slip of the finger that sent me to his camera roll.

There were hundreds of pictures of the same tall, blonde woman dispersed throughout his photos; both by herself and with him. Her posing with a zucchini at the farmer's market, standing on the El platform as the train went by, hair flying, a selfie of the two of them in front of the Bean. I scrolled all the way back to the beginning of his photos, and she was still there. Remnants of her had died away by more recent ones, but only by a little bit.

At this point, I'd started to get angry. She was obviously an important figure in his life to make such a prevalent impact on both his camera roll and his wallet. I found the Facebook app on his phone, tucked away with other social media in a folder of the same name, and clicked on his profile. Under his name, it said "Lives in Chicago, Illinois" and "Married to Glimmer Mellark". By then, I was seething. I exited out of Facebook and slammed his phone back on the bedside table, then turned back around in bed and kicked him hard in the side.

"Huh?" he sat up halfway and rubbed his eyes, looking confusedly in my direction. "What're you doing?"

"You need to go," I growled, and threw both his wallet and phone at him. They bounced off of his chest and landed heavy on the mattress in front of him.

He ran his hand through his thick hair. "Why?"

I crossed my arms. "Won't your wife want breakfast in the morning?" I asked, sitting back on my knees across from him.

He sighed, shaking his head. "No, it's not like that-"

"I don't care what it's like. Get the fuck out of my apartment or I'm calling the cops."

He swung his legs over the bed so his feet hit the floor with a soft tapping sound. "Jesus Christ," he said, bending over to grab his boxers and pants. "Okay." He stumbled in the direction of the door, still off-balance from being drunk, shoving his pants on at the same time.

"Fuck you," I said under my breath after I heard the front door shut. "Fuck, fuck, fuck you."

I stood beside my bed for the longest time, just staring at the empty spot where Peeta had just been, arms crossed and fuming. The digital alarm clock read 5:04am.

I was just about to lay back down when I heard a small voice come from the hallway. "Katniss?"

I lifted my chin and saw Prim standing in my doorway, her hair a mess, dressed in pajama shorts and a ratty camisole. She was squinting even in the low light, rubbing her eyes and looking confused.

"Go back to bed, Prim," I said, stepping to her and turning her shoulders towards her room. "Everything's fine."

"Who left?" she asked, planting her feet so I couldn't guide her anywhere.

"I'll tell you in the morning," I said. "You're still drunk and it's 5am."

Prim groaned. "I'm coming to sleep with you. My room's cold."

I didn't fight her, I just sighed in defeat as she led the way into my room. Before she got in bed, she dug around in my closet and found a knitted afghan, which she then spread out over the mattress so she could lay on top of it. She tottered up and down the side of the bed, smoothing out the bumps, and then crawled under the covers on the side that Peeta had just been in. The sheets were crinkled and the comforter was bunched on the floor, so I picked it up and snapped it over the mattress then got in beside my sister. When I laid my head down on the pillow, her eyes were closed and she was breathing rhythmically, already asleep.