A/N LOL Wow! So...what I *think* I'm hearing from you guys is that you'd like me to continue the story. (Heehee, I'm such a brat.) Thank you for all the recs, favs, follows; they were a bright spot in a very tough week. I must check out this Tumblr thing at some point...what you kids won't think of next.

When I'm Walking By the Water

"Do you mind if I just stop by my room first?" he asks. We're halfway across the quad, and it's been a quiet walk so far. I'm scuffing my toes along the grass as I walk, something my mother used to harrass me about. It wrecks shoes. "I want to drop off my bag, and I'd like to change my shirt; I don't think they believed in air conditioning in...well, whenever that building was built."

"Not at all; which building is yours?" I haven't been able to meet his eyes again. And my shoes are going to have grass stains. And he's going to change his shirt...and for some reason, this last fact makes me have to swallow a sudden lump in my very dry throat.

"I'm in Robie Andrews; it's right across the way here." He points to a tall brick early-1900s looking building.

That gets my attention. "Oh!" I look up at him and find that he's studying his shoes too. "My friend Gale is an R.A. in that building."

"No kidding," he says, grinning my way, and I look away, pretending to study the brick facade.

"Yeah, we've known each other forever. He was a few years ahead of me in school, but our dads worked together, and..." And what? Do I want to tell this story right now? And why is my dad everywhere today?

And now Peeta's said something, and I've missed it, and he's watching me expectantly. "What?" I say.

But he smiles easily, and repeats, "Which floor?"

"Third floor."

"Oh, I'm on the second." We've reached his building by this time, and this is awkward... "Do you...want to..." And now, he's the one who's blushing.

And I'm the one who rescues him. "I think I'm just going to run upstairs and see if he's around. We're supposed to get together later, and..."

"Okay." He swipes his ID card at the door, hauls it open and lets me lead the way through the small lobby. It may be my imagination, but I think he's frowning as we trudge our way up the stairs; only one flight this time, and I barely notice him leaning on the walking stick at all.

I'm curious about it: his leg. But I kind of feel like it would be rude to ask. So I trot along up the next stairway as he opens the door to his floor. "Hey," he calls, and I turn, and he's smiling at me from the doorway. "Ask him to come along with us."

I bite my lip. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Why not?" He fiddles with the door lock. "Meet you back down here."

I nod and turn to finish climbing the stairs, and now I'm the one who's frowning. Why not, indeed?

...

Gale's floor is a boys'-only floor. I realize this as soon as I open the door and I'm greeted with the overwhelming odors of B.O. and beer. There are pizza boxes and fast-food wrappers littering the floor outside several of the rooms, and the booming explosions and random gunfire of an X-Box being played a few doors down.

Unbelievable. Classes started yesterday; these guys have occupied this floor for less than a week. And already it's a sty. I'm guess I'm too used to living with just Prim.

I follow the blasting of guns and the shouts of soldiers and find a door propped open; I push on it and I'm treated to the sight of five or six guys huddled inside a tiny room around a TV screen, two of them holding X-Box controllers and the other four shouting into their ears.

"Dude! Use your parachute."

"Deploy chute, dumbass!"

"No, not-"

One guy dies.

"Aaaaughh." Two of the observers turn away from the screen in disgust, and catch sight of me in the doorway.

"We-ell," one of them says. He's a tall, good-looking, muscle-bound surfer type who might be halfway decent, if not for the disgusting leer in his eye. He slouches over to the doorway, and I take a step backward. "What can we do for you?"

I catch a whiff of alcohol on his breath, and I have to fight not to cover my nose. "Could you tell me...I'm looking for Gale. The R.A?"

Surfer Guy's face falls. "Of course you are." He looks behind me, probably to see if I've brought any friends. I take another step back, and he follows me. "What do you want him for? When you could have such a good time...without him."

I'm starting to get nervous, but then a voice pipes up behind him. "Cut it out, Cato." Surfer Cato looks around, grinning at his friend, who positions himself between me and Cato, subtly pushing him back into the room. The friend is a bit smaller, darker and more wiry-looking, but no less intimidating. "Sorry about him. I haven't known him long, but I'm pretty sure he's an asshole."

I laugh at this, just a little, and study my sneakers again.

"Anyway, Gale's not here. He's not on duty until 9 tonight, so I'm not sure we'll see him at all until then. He works weird hours." It's true; between RAing here, working part time at Shaw's Grocery and trying to earn enough credits to graduate in the spring, Gale can be hard to find.

"Okay, well, which room is his?"

The guy points down the hall a bit. "On the left. There's a white board on the door."

I nod. "Thanks," I say, turning down the hall.

"I'm Marvel, by the way." I turn back to face him, and he's jiggling his eyebrows up and down. "And if you're really nice...I might tell you my real name." He sniggers as he ducks back into the X-box room and slams the door behind him.

Oh...my...god. I shiver, trying to rid myself of heebie-jeebies.

People are weird.

I leave a note on Gale's door. WE ON FOR EASTERN PROM TONIGHT? CALL IF YES. KAT Gale and I, and our friend Madge, have had a standing appointment on the Eastern Prom every Friday night since Madge and I were juniors in high school. We all grew up on Munjoy Hill in Portland; the Eastern Prom is a public park a few blocks away. There's a playground at the top of a steep, grassy hillside leading down to the harbor; at the bottom of the hill there's a paved walkway, a small marina and the even smaller East End Beach.

The beach is technically closed after dark, but we never let that stop us. And we never do more than just hang out and catch up with one another. But it's basically my only standing social engagement, and Gale and Madge are basically my only friends, besides Prim. So I don't like to miss it.

I don't want to pass Cato and Marvel's door again, so I pad quickly down to the stairwell at the other end of the hallway. I find the second floor deserted; Peeta must still be changing, and I don't know which room is his, and I wouldn't go knocking even if I did know. So I'll have to wait. I turn to the window behind me; there's a grove of maples just outside, the sunlight filtering through and highlighting the leaves that are just starting to go red at their tips.

I smile and absently reach up to pull the hairband off the end of my now-messy braid. I slip the hairband onto my wrist and run my fingers through my hair a few times, shaking it out and trying to smooth out the knots; the humidity in that classroom really wrecked it. I finally smooth it back, capturing the waves and curly tendrils back into my standard braid. Prim calls it my I-don't-give-a-shit braid. I call that about right.

I turn around and there he is...his room is the last one at the end of the hallway, nearest the stairs, farthest from me. He's standing outside his closed door, his hand still on the doorknob, watching me with his mouth slightly open.

I look down at my shoes, and then back up at him. Still looking at me. I hitch my bag up and start down the hallway. Trying to find something to rest my eyes on besides him.

He's changed into a blue shirt. And he doesn't have his walking stick any more. "Hey," I tell him, when I'm close enough. "That's...a good color on you."

He blinks and shakes his head, and smiles easily again, like I've snapped him out of a daydream. "Thanks." I think he's brushed his hair too. "That's a nice...you have really pretty hair." He's blurted it; I can tell by the way he immediately presses his lips together.

I take a deep breath. "Thanks yourself."

...

"So how old's your sister?" he asks me as we wait in line for fries. The line is not long; it's only 4:00 on a Friday, and we practically have the place to ourselves.

"Fourteen."

"That's...a fun age?"

I chuckle, thinking of Prim and her worries over clothes and grades and boys. Normal stuff. "Not really," I say, sitting my tray up on top of the grill to get my paper cup of fries. "Not for most of us." Peeta does the same; his tray already carries a bowl of chicken salad and a grilled cheese sandwich.

I eye his selections. "A little early for dinner, isn't it?"

He smiles, digging his ID out of his back pocket. "One thing you will learn about me very quickly, is that I am always hungry. Four PM, four AM, doesn't matter. I can always..." he trails off, frowning at something over my head, and then his face breaks out into a full-on grin. "Hey Annie!"

He waves his free arm above his head and bellows for Annie again. I turn around and my stomach plummets, because there, about ten yards away, stands just about the cutest little person I've ever seen. Annie looks up and smiles, waving shyly back at Peeta, and I catch the full effect of her smoky dark hair, emerald green eyes and dimples, and the hesitant yet graceful way she's now walking over to us, balancing a tray between both hands.

I knew it. I knew there had to be a girlfriend.

I am so stupid.

Now he's introducing us, and I have to be nice, and there's really no reason I shouldn't be. "Annie, this is...Kat, from freshman seminar. Kat, this is my neighbor Annie from the second floor. We were just there," he says, turning to her. "We must have just missed you..."

Annie nods at me, smiling shyly, and then quickly looks away. I watch her as we find a table and settle in with our food, waiting for Peeta to touch or kiss her, or give any indication that they're a couple...but he doesn't. She doesn't say much and doesn't really meet his eyes, but he talks steadily and calmly to her, and gradually she relaxes enough to start volunteering topics on her own.

There's something...a little off about her. I can't put my finger on it. It's like she's constantly waiting for someone to yell at her; you can see her flinch a little when a group of guys across the room gets a little too rowdy. When that happens, Peeta puts a gentle hand on her shoulder, repeats what he just said, and waits for her response.

I watch him in awe. No, she's not his girlfriend, or someone he's trying to get with. He hasn't even known her for very long. She's just a slightly odd, awkward, damaged person that he's befriended.

Maybe that's what Peeta does...maybe he has a talent for befriending damaged people. It would explain a lot...especially about his interest in me. My heart sinks even further.

I learn a lot during that early-dinner. I learn that Annie and Peeta are both art majors; she specializes in photography, he prefers painting. I learn that he has two older brothers, and that she is an only child. His folks own a bakery back in Charleston; her folks are retired in Falmouth Foreside.

I learn that Peeta and I have a math class in common, Mondays and Wednesdays in Portland.

"Which dorm are you in?" Annie asks.

"Oh, I'm not," I say, and Peeta looks up. "I've got my own apartment, not far from the Portland campus."

"Really?" Annie seems impressed. "By yourself?"

"Well, no. My sister lives with me. Well, on weekends, anyway." I shrug. "I'm hardly ever there, I worked two jobs all last year before I started school, so it's not like I got lonely, really." Shut up, Katniss.

"But what about your parents?"

I carefully don't look at Peeta, and try not to remember what he said about my dad eariler. "Oh, well...my dad died?" I don't know why it comes out as a question. "And my mom's...not really in the picture. So..." I shrug.

"Oh god." Annie's face falls, and she looks like she's about to cry. "I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay," I say. "It was a long time ago."

Peeta breaks the ensuing silence by announcing he's going to get some ice cream, and invites Annie to go with him. He glances back at me as they walk away toward the soft-serve machine; our eyes lock and he gives me a small smile. I feel my own lips curling up in reply, and I can't help the faint lurch in my stomach.

As he looks away, my phone buzzes in my pocket again, and this time it's Gale. He'll be calling from his room in Robie, as he doesn't own a cell.

I'm grinning as I answer. "What's up, Buttercup?"

He groans. "Catnip. Do not remind me of that beast." Buttercup is my sister's cat; he lives with us because our uncle is allergic. He scratches everyone except Prim. "So where are you? I'm thinking Ripper's, then the Prom. I'm starving."

I smile. "I'm in the caf. Hey..." I watch Peeta and Annie in front of the soft-serve machine, and note how he's talking to her, gently and steadily, and how she's nodding, taking in every word. Like she trusts him.

These could be friends. The thought gives me a warm feeling.

"Hey, Prim is off gallivanting downtown tonight, so she's not coming. Do you mind if a couple of friends tag along?"

A pause. "Will I like them?"

"I think so. They're from your building. Second floor."

"Okay." He yawns. "As long as it's not my floor. I get enough of these assholes already." He's raised his voice to a shout, and I can tell he's hoping his voice will carry out into the hallway. I think of telling him about Cato and Marvel, then decide to save that story for later. "And Madge is catching a ride with some guy she met at art school. Pick you up in a few."

As I hang up, Peeta and Annie are sitting down again. She's smiling sweetly, and he's holding out an ice cream cone in my direction. It's chocolate and vanilla swirl. "I wasn't sure if you liked chocolate or vanilla so...I got both."

"Thanks," I say, taking the cone. I run my tongue around the base of the ice cream so it won't drip.

Peeta watches, his mouth slightly open again.

"So. Do you guys want to go for a ride?"

...

I call shotgun for the ride to Ripper's in Gale's not-so-glamorous Hyundai; as soon as we're all in the car I slip off my sandals and prop my feet up on the dash, resting my arms on my knees. I run my fingertips along the spines of a few CDs in Gale's center console as he drives; choosing one, I open it and leaf through the booklet.

"Get your stinky feet off my console, Catnip."

"Can it." I dig my toes into the dashboard, the green toe polish sparkling. Gale grits his teeth, squeezes the steering wheel and watches the road as he turns onto Outer Congress St, which will take us into the city.

I can feel Peeta watching me. He's sitting behind Gale, and I feel his eyes on me every second. I concentrate on not looking back there. My face is flushing hot. I tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear, and tilt my head so that he's in my peripheral vision as I'm pretending to read the booklet. Yeah. He's definitely watching.

"Is that the new Mumford and Sons?"

I look back at him and, sure enough, his eyes are on me, not the CD.

"Yeah, I was just about to play it." I pop the CD out and feed it into the player.

"Can I see the booklet?"

I hand it to him, then face forward again quickly.

"Huh," he says. "I didn't know anyone bought CDs any more."

Gale frowns, eyeing Peeta through the rear-view. "I'll have you know that when the grid goes down, all your little i-whatsits aren't going to work any more. You'll be begging for my CDs then."

I snort. "Oh, whatever. Next you'll be calling us young whippersnappers, and telling us about back-in-your-day." Gale likes to pass himself off as an old fogie, but he's really only 2 years older than Madge and me.

Peeta and Annie both chuckle in the back. Annie pipes up, "How do you know your CD player will still work?"

Gale twists around in his seat. "Ever hear of batteries?"

We all bust out laughing, and I slap him on the arm. "Watch the road, genius."

Peeta taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to find him smiling warmly at me, holding out the booklet. "Thanks," he says. I take it from him and our fingers brush together; I drop the CD case and have to fumble for it underneath the seat.

There's conversation between Gale, Peeta and Annie for the rest of the drive, but I couldn't tell you what they say.

...

Gale parks along the street across from the park. At this point we are joined by Madge and her art school friend; he screeches up to the curb in a black Camaro with California plates, and Madge jumps out of the passenger side, looking frazzled but happy. "Are you kidding me?" Gale mumbles.

"Everybody, this is Finn," she beams, and I have to stare. If this guy isn't a Calvin Klein model, he damn well should be. But I'm quickly turned off by his parking job (terrible), his greeting of all the "ladies" in the group with a kiss on the hand, and the studied-nonchalant way he remote-locks his Camaro over his shoulder.

I try to roll my eyes at Madge while he has his back turned; normally we'd have a good laugh over a guy who's trying this hard. But she seems fixated on him instead, so I simply shrug and follow everyone into Ripper's, a tiny diner we've been frequenting since we were twelve.

Ripper and Sae greet us from behind the counter, and we all crowd into a booth. I'm crammed in next to the wall behind Madge and Annie; Peeta's on the outside of the opposite bench. I notice that he orders another whole sandwich and a plate of onion rings, which he shares with Annie.

I'm stuck across from Finn, who keeps waggling his eyebrows at me and flexing his muscles while I'm trying to eat my onion rings, making Madge furious and Gale amused. Annie glances at Gale and Finn furtively from time to time, I notice, her face serious; she doesn't seem the type to fall for either Finn's obvious masked-insecurity or Gale's uncertain bravado. I watch as she coolly evaluates them, then turns back to Peeta, who's smiling much more genuinely. I think I like this girl.

I catch up with the two of them; Madge is having fun in her pottery class (obviously) and suffering through her bank-teller job during the day; Gale is back and forth between the dorm, Shaw's and five different classes. I tell them about classes and Prim; that's all I've got.

Peeta may or may not be periodically trying to meet my eyes. I pretend not to notice.

After dinner, we cross the street and make our way down the sidewalk toward the park. As soon as the playground comes into view, we lose Finn.

"Hey! A playground." He grins wickedly at all of us and runs off with a whoop, leaping onto the brightly colored jungle gym and chinning himself up on the highest bar.

"Oh my god, Madge." I lift up one side of my mouth in a sneer, and stare at my friend, who's beautiful even in ratty jeans and an old T-shirt from her pottery class; her blonde hair is gathered in a low bun and her face is dreamy as she stares after Finn.

"I know," she sighs. "Isn't he hot?" And before I can say another word, she's skipped off to the playground after him.

"That's..." I start, but she's already too far away to hear me. I point after them, then drop my hand, hopeless. "...not why I was oh-my-godding."

I hear a chuckle behind me, and turn to find that Peeta and I are now alone. Annie is picking her way down the steep slope, her eyes fixed on the water and a slightly absent smile on her lips, and Gale, to my surprise, is following her.

Peeta extends his arm and grins. "Care to share a bench with me, milady?"

I glance around. There is a winding pathway leading down to the marina and beach, but with his leg, that's probably not a good idea. The others probably don't realize his dilemma, because he hides it so well.

I take his arm. It's strong, and warm. "I'd be delighted," I say, grinning right back. There's a bench about ten feet away, meant for parents to watch their kids on the playground. It overlooks the water, and as we sit down, I pause to take in the view.

Portland Harbor is gorgeous in the slanting rays of early-evening sun behind us. The water is stormy-blue and busy with sailboats, ferries and fishing trawlers, the sky darkening and dotted with gulls, the breeze crisp and salt-kissed. The islands way out in the bay are already shadowed with evening. My harbor, my water, my world.

I realize that I haven't yet let go of his arm, when he shifts slightly, muscles flexing as he pushes himself into a more comfortable position. I curl my hand up and pull it away then, the knuckles grazing his forearm.

"Can I tell you something kind of embarrassing?" I look up with a frown, and he's grinning out at the view. "This is the first time I've ever seen the ocean."

My jaw drops. "Shut. Up."

He grins wider. "True. I can't believe it myself, that I missed this...all my life. I just never got around to it. I mean, we used to go to Lake Erie or Niagara Falls in the summer, but...it was nothing like this."

"You never?" I can't stop staring. "You never saw the ocean before." I've never seen someone see the ocean for the first time. Especially not someone who's obviously taking such joy in it. "That's it." I slap a hand onto his leg, just above the knee, before I really think about what I'm doing. It's his bad leg, but he doesn't seem to mind that I keep my hand there just a little too long. "We're coming back here at sunrise. Some day. That's how you've got to see it. The sun rise over the water. It's...it's beautiful." I snatch my hand away and look down at the pavement, studying the cracks.

"Oh, I don't know. What I'm looking at right now is pretty darn incredible." I raise my head and he's not looking out at the ocean any more.

He's looking at me.

I can't meet his eyes. I can't. I fold my arms across my chest and stare out at the water, following the progress of a lobster trawler as it hauls traps, going from one buoy to the next in a steady line. Finn is now bounding down the grassy slope to the beach where Annie and Gale have settled on a piece of driftwood, and Madge is following more slowly, picking her way down the hill with arms outstretched for balance. I have to smile at her awkwardness.

"Can I ask you something?" The question is out of my mouth before I've really thought it through, and I feel panic fluttering in my chest. I shouldn't ask him, but...

Hi sighs, then leans forward, elbows on his knees. "Proximal tibial osteosarcoma."

"...What?" He catches me so off-guard that I have to take a second to catch up. Then, I feel all the blood drain from my face as I realize what he's telling me. "Holy shit. Cancer?"

He nods. "A tumor in my shinbone. That's why they had to take my leg."

"Holy shit." I'm trying to wrap my head around this. I sit up a little straighter, and angle my body so I'm facing him. "How old were you?"

"I was sixteen."

"Wow. I'm so..." Sorry doesn't seem to cut it.

"Spring of my sophmore year, my baseball team was on its way to the State Championship. We were down to the ninth inning in a really important game, and I managed to hit a single. Really tough pitcher. I knew my team needed the run, so I waited for a bad pitch, and I went for second." He sits up straight again, glances over at me, but I'm just staring at him and I feel like my face is frozen. "I ended up having to slide. I led with my left leg, and...it just broke."

"It just...broke?"

"Yeah. In a couple of places, actually. Apparently the bone had been getting weaker for a while, as the tumor grew. I never knew. I'd been icing the knee after every practice, but I didn't think anything of it. Didn't complain. Didn't want to get cut from the team."

I say the only thing I can think of. "I'm sorry that happened to you. It must have...sucked."

He chuckles again. "Yeah. It did suck."

I stretch my arms out in front of me. "Wow...but you're okay now?"

"Yeah. I'm almost five years out, if you can believe it."

I study my hands in my lap, twisting my fingers together. Suddenly, everything that bothers me seems so trivial. I smile to myself. "You know, that's actually not what I was going to ask you."

"No?" He half-frowns at me, surprised.

"Oh, don't get me wrong. I was going to ask you. I was just planning on being a little bit more...smooth about it." I make this incredibly cheesy, "smoothing" gesture with my hand when I say this, like I'm smoothing a bedsheet or something.

I look out of the corner of my eye, and he's wearing a grin of pure delight. "Oh, I see. You were going to be..." He pauses for effect, then imitates my hand gesture, exaggerating it. "...smo-o-o-ooth about it?"

I am going to be teased about this for a long time to come.

I narrow my eyes at him, but he can't stop grinning. "Yeah. You know, I am capable of being smooth." I face forward again, my eyes on the blue horizon, a smile playing about my lips. "Just...not right now."

He laughs aloud at this, and I glance at him again; his face is literally beaming as he shakes his head. The sound of his laughter makes me warm, it makes me almost glow. I want to hear this sound again. I want to be the one who makes him do this. I want…

I want.

For the first time in a long time, maybe in forever, I want.

I may be in serious trouble here.

"So what were you going to ask?"

Shit. "Um...it's not important."

He stares at me. "Um. Yeah it is."

"Well..." God, I'm going to sound like an idiot. "I-was-going-to-ask-if-you-have-a-girlfriend." There's a bit of a silence, and I fill it as best I can. "I mean, I know I...it's none of my...but I just wondered..."

"No," he says, resting his elbows on his knees again. "I don't." He catches my eye, and this time I don't look away. "Do you have-"

"No."

He faces the sea again, nodding. "Good to know."

...

Gale offers everyone a ride back, so after Finn thunders off in his muscle car ("What's he compensating for?" Gale mutters, making both Madge and Annie snort behind their hands), we all pile in. Annie surprises me again by saying "Shotgun!" on the way to the car. Gale opens the passenger door for her very sweetly, and she's beaming as she slides in.

"No fair," I complain, though I'm secretly pleased for Annie. "Why don't I get the door opened for me, Gale?"

"Suck it up, Buttercup," Gale says, rounding the car and folding his tall frame into the driver's seat.

I stick my tongue out at him, and I'm reaching for the door handle when another hand gets there first. Peeta. He smiles at me as he opens the door, gesturing me in with his other hand.

Goddamn it. He is smooth.

Peeta stands there holding the door open while Madge and I pile into the back.

"It's good to know there are some gentlemen left in the world," Madge is saying as Peeta settles himself beside me. I'd make a wiseass comment myself, but for the few blocks it takes to get to Madge's house, I am squeezed in the middle of a tiny backseat, the entire length of my left thigh flush against his right.

I can feel the tiny twitches of his muscles as he shifts in his seat and moves to roll down the window, and I feel the heat coming off of him. My hand rests on my knee and his hand is inches away; my pinkie stretches out toward his before I can think to pull it back. We don't look at each other.

After we drop off Madge, I slide over to occupy her vacant seat. As soon as I'm settled in, I glance over at Peeta and we share a nervous smile before we both turn forward again.

I don't meet his eye again, in fact, until I'm at the door to my apartment building and Gale's car is pulling away. I swivel my head around and sure enough, Peeta's watching me through the car's back window. I freeze, my key halfway to the lock. I watch him grow smaller as the car retreats, his gaze intense and unwavering and just the slightest bit...hungry.

I watch until the car is out of view, and then I let myself into my apartment and don't sleep. All. Night. Long.