I cleared my throat and pushed open the ornate door.

"You wanted to see me?"

My mentor was sitting with his back to me, gazing out the window into the bustle of the Capitol. I watched him take a swig of alcohol from his flask, but he didn't turn to face me.

I had always been unfailingly polite to people. With my parents working in a service industry like baking, I had to be congenial. Plus, I lucked out and got my father's personality. My mother, well… She was unpleasant at best. Dad though, he was quick to smile and forgive, as am I. But, Haymitch was pissing me off right now. He'd sent a note to my room that we needed to speak privately immediately. So, here I was and yet, he didn't even acknowledge me. There were far better things I could do with my time than look at the back of his drunken skull. I could lift weights. I could work on my knife skills. I could try to memorize what plants I could eat without dying. Hell, I could go to my room and watch TV. All would be a better use of my time than this. I clenched my fists at my sides and closed my eyes, silently counting to ten so I wouldn't snap.

I opened my eyes and jumped when he was standing right in front of me. No wonder he was able to be a Victor. The man moves like a cat when he wants to, I thought, impressed in spite of myself. I was not so lucky. I could make cakes so light that they seemed to be made of air and paint a flower with photographic realism, but ever since I hit puberty and had a couple of substantial growth spurts I'd been clumsy and a bit awkward in my own body.

"Does she know?"

I cocked my head to the side and looked at him questioningly, but I felt a weird sinking sensation in my stomach. Does she know? How does HE know? I supposed that he could be talking about something else, so I tried to laugh. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Haymitch." I strode past him into the room, carefully pulling the heavy oak door shut behind me as I went.

"Yeah, OK, kid. Play dumb. It doesn't really make a difference." He shrugged and walked over to the wet bar set up in the room. There were multiple crystal bottles filled with varying shades of liquid. He seemed to know what he wanted, though, because he grabbed a bottle of an amber fluid that I could smell from where I stood and took a long pull, straight from the ornate vessel.

I sat down on the deep blue velvet sofa and fingered the fringe of a throw pillow. Haymitch took another long swallow from the bottle and then, carrying it, started for the door.

"Wait!" I needed someone to talk to. I had questions that begged for answers. My life would probably end in a few days' time and I needed help to die with as few regrets as possible. Even if the man was a drunk, he was still a man and he was better than nothing.

Haymitch stopped, his hand on the doorknob and shook his head. "Go to bed, kid. It's late and sleep will be at a premium for you soon enough."

He started to open the door and I was behind him, slamming it back shut and spinning him to pin him against the wall, the crystal decanter smashing onto the floor. "No, dammit. You called me here because you had questions," I didn't even sound like myself. My voice was guttural and I realized I was holding him a few inches off of the floor. I released my grip on his collar and stepped back self-consciously, dropping my gaze to the floor. "Sorry," I mumbled. I guess I had some of my mother's temper in me. Instead of making me feel sick, though, I felt a glimmer of hope that I could be a survivor, yet.

"You know, kid, just when I think you might have grown a pair, you go back into the nice guy routine." Haymitch chuckled as he straightened his shirt collar. "I can't believe you made me waste that." He looked mournfully at the spilled liquid and I couldn't help but smile.

He shook his head and walked back to the wet bar. He reached into the cabinet and pulled down two glasses and he poured some white liquor into each. Haymitch walked over to me and handed me a glass. "Salute, kid," he said before he downed his glass in one long gulp.

"I don't drink." I felt like he was testing me, just to see if I would try to impress him, but it wasn't my style and I'd always been confident in being myself. Besides, the idea of turning out like him made me even more certain of my refusal.

"Too bad," Haymitch reached out and took the glass from me. "It's the only damn thing that gets me through the nights." He knocked it back as well and I wondered what he meant.

He gestured to the sofa and I sat down, feeling nervous.

Haymitch set the now empty glasses down on the table and turned to regard me silently.

I sat, unable to meet his gaze for some reason.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I asked, finally looking up at him.

"Jesus, kid. You're either dumb as a rock or else you've never told a soul that you have a crush on that girl."

"Well, sir, I'm not exactly stupid," I responded, feeling that by looking him in the eye I would get enough respect that he wouldn't laugh at me or anything. Because, even if he was right and I'd never told a soul that I was in love with Katniss, I needed him to help me find peace with it.

With a sigh and a roll of his eyes, Haymitch flopped back onto the chair across from me and stretched his legs out onto the ottoman. He regarded me silently for the longest time, his eyes sharp, a frown playing at his lips.

I wondered if I should be saying something, but I really had no clue what he'd want to hear. That I had had a crush on her since our very first day of school? That I watched her in the hallways, but always seemed to get too flustered to say hi? That I fantasized about how her hair would feel in my fingers? That I spent my nights wondering exactly how her lips would taste if we kissed? Or maybe how her… Well… I'm 16. I would guess he already knew that much.

Haymitch steepled his fingers under his chin and looked thoughtful, but he still said nothing.

"Look, I know it's ridiculous, OK? I know that we're won't rise above the Capitol and live happily ever after. I know that one of us has to die in the arena, and… Well. It's not OK, but… It's not going to be her. I won't let that happen." I was determined and I plunged forward, getting the words out in a rush. "I hate myself that I never talked to her until the day of the Reaping. I always wanted to, but… I didn't. Is there any way I can tell her what I feel now, or will that just fuck us both up?"

"It depends, sport. Do you want her to know she's loved or do you just want to get laid before you die?" Haymitch said what he was thinking and it was logical enough I guess, but it made my temper flare again.

I shoved myself to my feet and headed for the door, not even bothering to spew the string of obscenities that were rollicking in my head. "Goodnight, Haymitch."

"It was an honest question, son." He hadn't moved from where he sat, but his voice held more sincerity that I'd ever known he was capable of. "You're staring death in the face and I'm willing to bet my entire stash of Ripper's finest that you haven't had all of the experiences you'd like. I've been there, remember?"

"It's not about sex," I growled, turning back to face him.

"It was for me," Haymitch said with a shrug. "Then again, I didn't even have a crush at the time, let alone someone I'd been pining for from afar for a decade."

"I just want her to know I thought she was beautiful. And perfect. And amazing. And… And… Worth it."

"Worth it?" Haymitch looked confused by my choice of words.

"Yeah. She'd get it," I said with certainty. "Doesn't matter if you do."

"Go to bed, kid. I might have an idea, but… I gotta think about it before I get your hopes up."

"Yes, sir," I said, turning back to the door and without another word, I stepped into the hallway, closing the door quietly behind me.

I walked quietly down the hall towards my room, hesitating outside of Katniss's door for a second. I could just knock… See if she's up… Maybe tell her everything I've just told Haymitch. Of course, he immediately thought I just wanted to lose my virginity before I died. Katniss would probably come to the same conclusion. And castrate me. I decided to see what kind of plan Haymitch had. If he comes up empty, I'll just have to blurt it all out to her. And, of course, risk castration. Sometimes, I wonder why I fell for Katniss instead of some of the girlier, softer girls at school. They can be fun to look at, sure, but none affect my heart or my brain like she does. And even though I'm 16, for some reason, those two organs seemed more important to me than the other one I could mention. OK. So, maybe dying a virgin played a little bit on my mind. I chuckled to myself, just amused that I could somehow think of sex in a time like this.

I continued my walk to my bedroom where I changed into pajama bottoms and a t-shirt and drifted off in record time. I felt like I'd just closed my eyes when I heard a banging on my door. I rolled over and looked at the clock. 6:15 a.m. Breakfast started at 8, so I pulled the pillow over my head and tried to ignore the sound.

The next thing I knew, Haymitch was in my room, throwing clothes my way, chortling that he had a plan and that if it worked, it would make for the most sensationalistic Hunger Games ever televised. I assumed he was drunk or maybe high, but when he yanked the pillow and blankets away from me, I saw that he was shockingly sober and clear eyed.

"Come on, boy! Get up! We have to talk to Effie before Katniss is up. Get a move on!"

Then he was gone, practically dancing a jig out of my room.

I got up quickly, threw on jeans and left the room in the t-shirt I slept in. As I walked down the hall, I ran my hands through my hair, trying to make the curls lie flat as to be presentable enough that Effie wouldn't be too frustrated with me. I opened the door to the dining hall and was greeted by smells that my family and friends might would've killed for (haha) back home. I jerked my head in the direction of the food and Haymitch rolled his eyes and nodded his assent. I quickly filled my plate and sat down across from my Mentor and my Handler. Haymitch still looked gleeful and Effie looked like she might cry. I reached for the salt shaker in the middle of the table and she actually grabbed my hand, her eyes welled up with tears. She pressed her lips together and nodded, squeezing my hand tightly before she let go.

I felt bewildered. I looked at Haymitch and he grinned. "It's brilliant, Peeta! Brilliant!"

I nodded slowly and then took a bite of egg, I chewed slowly and swallowed before I said, "What is?"

"Who can resist a love story?"

"What love story?" I asked, interested in spite of myself. I took a sip of hot chocolate.

"You and Katniss, dear boy!" Effie crowed.

I'm sorry to say that she wasn't too pleased with my manners when I sprayed hot chocolate from my mouth all over her face. I didn't mean to, it just surprised me. She made an awful face and excused herself to go wash up.

"Haymitch!" I hissed. "You were supposed to help me figure out how to tell Katniss, not broadcast it to the whole damn world."

He just snickered into his coffee. "Son, you don't understand. You are going to broadcast it to the whole damn world and then some. Because, tomorrow night, in your interview you are going to confess that Katniss has been your unrequited love pretty much since the day you met her."

I gaped at him like a fish for a second and then I picked up my knife to spread jam on a roll. "The hell I am."

"It's perfect, boy! All of Panem will eat it up! Talk about making them love you! People will be obsessed with the two of you. And if the people want it, the Gamesmakers will make it happen. If we play our cards right, I think they might be let there be two victors—I mean, hell, boy. Who'd want to see a teenager kill the girl he loves? Or vice versa?"

"Are you a fucking lunatic?" I hissed, because it was that or yell at the top of my lungs. "Of course they'll want to watch us kill each other. It's the fucking Hunger Games, Haymitch. It's been about bloodshed for as long as the Games have existed!"

"Exactly!" His eyes twinkled and I wondered if I could kill him with my jam knife. "It being about the star-crossed lovers from District 12 would be so new! So different! Trust me, kid. This has every chance of working!"

Effie came back a moment later and said she'd woken Katniss. Without thinking I again reached up to try to smooth out my hair as much as possible. Effie choked back a little sob and Haymitch snorted a laugh into his coffee cup. I admit that I blushed.

A few moments passed before Katniss walked in. In that time, Effie asked me if I could put into words what I loved about Katniss. Haymitch started telling me that I would have to really make it believable. Effie informed me that although I loved Katniss, there was certain, shall we say, etiquette that would have to be followed in the arena. To which Haymitch cackled, "Yeah, but sex does sell, kid" and he winked at me. I slumped in my seat and wished I had never confided in the old drunk.

"Shut up, Haymitch," I pleaded. "One thing, though… Katniss can't know about this yet, OK? She won't let us do it. I know her, OK?"

Haymitch and Effie agreed to leave Katniss in the dark for the time being and Effie called me noble. There were plenty of words I could think of for myself, but noble was not at the top of the list. Stupid. Naïve. Idiotic… Oh yes. I had a lot of words for myself right now.

Then, Katniss came in and fixed herself a plate. Obviously, she noticed we quit talking, but chose to focus on her food rather than the lack of conversation. Finally, to break the silence, she said, "So, what's going on? You're coaching us on interviews today, right?"

"That's right," Haymitch confirmed.

I kept my eyes on my plate and I fiddled with my fork. I felt her look at me, but I couldn't look up right now. If I did, Effie would make that weird keening sound she kept making when "overwhelmed by love" or something and Katniss would stop all of this before it started. I was certain of it.

Katniss took a huge bite of eggs and said, "You don't have to wait until I'm done. I can listen and eat at the same time."

Haymitch nodded. "Well, there's been a change of plans. About our current approach."

"What's that?" she asked, her voice immediately sounding suspicious.

Haymitch made it a point to not look at me as he shrugged. "Peeta has asked to be coached separately."

I finally forced myself to look up from my plate as I felt Katniss's steely eyes burning into me like the coal from back home. As our eyes met, she looked hurt for about a millisecond and then, they hardened into something akin to pure hatred and my heart felt like it plummeted into my guts.

"Good," she said coldly, her body shifting ever so slightly away from me.