A/N: Thanks to everyone that has already followed/favourited/reviewed this story. I am glad so many people are interested in the premise. This story will alternate between Katniss' and Peeta's POV so this is the first chapter from Peeta's perspective. Hope you enjoy.


Chapter 2

Peeta

I watch Katniss flee the living room, her braid whipping round the corner as she disappears. My heart clenches at the sight and I wish I knew her well enough to offer her some comfort. Coming back to this house can't be easy for her.

Once Katniss is gone I turn back round to face my sister.

"You shouldn't have gotten rid of her cat," I state.

Cashmere sighs, rolls her eyes and leans back against the couch.

"She can't have loved the cat that much if she left it here. What was I supposed to do? I have allergies," she replies.

"Yeah, I'm beginning to think that you're allergic to compassion. You know it is okay to show you actually care about other people," I say.

"I care about you. You are my brother and the only one that matters," she replies.

I smile at her and shake my head. At least that much is true. Cashmere can be vain and a bit of a bitch towards anyone who gets in the way of what she wants but I am the only person she lets in.

Growing up we lived in separate houses. Her mother got custody in the divorce and, after my own mother disappeared when I was two, I went to live with our dad. Cashmere hated her mom. She was over critical and quite demanding about what she expected from Cashmere. It was only on a Sunday that my sister got a reprieve from her mom as she spent the day with Dad and me.

Sundays were her sanctuaries and the only time she got to act like a child. At first she treated me like some sort of doll. She'd dress me up and force me to play tea parties but she was always patient with me and didn't get mad when I messed things up. She became very protective over me and even punched a child that dared make fun of me because my mommy ran away. Sundays soon became my favourite day of the week too. I loved playing with my sister and following her in all the games she made.

Our close relationship developed as we grew older. Cashmere bought me my first set of condoms and offered me a place to stay when I came back from Paris broke and unemployed. I'm the only person she allows to see her without make-up and I try to help her keep a grip on reality now her career has made her one of the most famous women in the US. Though days like today sometimes make that a hard job.

Cashmere shifts slightly as she looks at me seriously.

"Everyone else just wants something from me. Including her. If she thinks she has come back here to sell this house then she's going to have a battle on her hands," she says.

I sigh as I lean back against the couch. Cashmere never liked Heath's daughter. She was jealous that Katniss always came first in Heath's eyes. She's not going to make Katniss' stay here easy.

"I think she just wants to pick up some of her dad's stuff and then leave. She doesn't seem vindictive enough to throw you out of the house," I reply.

Cashmere snorts as she shakes her head.

"Don't be fooled by those innocent eyes. She had Heath wrapped around her little finger. And she was certainly no angel when he died. You won't believe the amount of things I had to cover up from the press. And she never showed me any gratitude," Cashmere says bitterly.

I'm a little surprised by Cashmere's statement. My first impression of Katniss doesn't suggest she is some sort of rebel. A bit guarded maybe, but certainly not someone who would get into lots of trouble.

Cashmere seems to be losing interest in the conversation and she picks up her tablet to read the latest stories about herself. I sit staring up at the ceiling, wondering all about the mysterious girl upstairs.


The next couple of hours are quite relaxed. Cashmere seems to forget Katniss is here and Katniss stays hidden in her room. I work on some sketches for my next art show and Cashmere even looks over to give me some helpful suggestions on composition. However this ends up turning into a silly game of Pictionary as I struggle to interpret Cashmere's rather squiggly attempts of drawing.

We are in a fit of giggles over Cashmere's picture of a skateboard, that looks more like a picture of a certain part of the male's anatomy, when the bell for the front gates goes off. I wipe the tears from my eyes as I get up to go answer it and Cashmere picks up a compact mirror to make sure her make-up is not smudged. When I click on the video link I see Plutarch's car in the driveway. I quickly let him in and the door is open for him by the time he's driven up the long drive way.

Cashmere picks herself off the couch and saunters over to wrap her arms around him as they exchange air kisses.

"Plutarch! Always a pleasure so see you! Tell me you have got good news about the duet," she exclaims.

Plutarch Heavensbee is our manager. He manages everything from public appearances to record and gallery contracts. He was even the one who suggested to Cashmere that she should pursue a relationship with Heath Everdeen. Heath was under Plutarch's management at the time and Plutarch could only see the dollar signs that their relationship would bring.

He is a typical larger than life LA agent. His exuberance and energy make him a memorable figure in the city. His wardrobe only consists of clothes brighter than the sun and his bleached blond hair is always immaculately groomed. He may come across as a bumbling idiot at times but he is ruthless when he needs to be. I know neither my sister nor I would be as successful as we are without him.

He thanks Cashmere for her warm welcome and throws a greeting in my direction before steering us into the living room. Today he is wearing a bright purple shirt with yellow stars, something that is only emphasised by the stark white living room furniture. He settles himself down on one of the white leather couches and clasps his hands together as he plasters on a smile.

Both Cashmere and I take seats opposite him and Cashmere sits back against the chair, one arm draped over the back of it with her legs crossed in front of her. She waits patiently for Plutrach's latest news.

Her last single didn't do as well as expected and she is desperate to get back on top again. The label suggested a collaboration with the latest young heartthrob would help her get there. However I can tell by Plutarch's overly positive demeanour that my sister isn't going to get the news she wants.

"So we spoke to Cato's people and he really loves the song. He definitely wants to work on it," Plutarch starts.

Cashmere's eyes light up but I can sense the but…

"However he wasn't sold on working with you. He feels that his fans are younger and wouldn't be interested in a collaboration with an older singer," Plutarch say carefully.

Indignation flares in Cashmere's eyes and she purses her lips as she shakes her head

"Who is he to tell me that I am too old? I'm thirty-two and more attractive than any of those teenage yuppies the label keep trying to break out. He's just a silly little boy whose star will fade with his looks. He should be begging me for this collaboration," Cashmere replies icily.

The enraged look in her eyes tells me there is a fire brewing inside of her. I lean over to put a reassuring hand on her arm. Her eyes flick down to look at my hand but my touch does seem to douse the fire within her a little.

"Unfortunately the label agree with Cato. They want to pair him with Clove Matthews. They feel she is more relevant to his audience. You've lost the song," Plutarch says.

Cashmere barks out a laugh as she shakes her head.

"That girl? She has no talent or beauty. She's already gone under the knife to fix that nose and chin but nothing can change the fact she is an auto-tuned robot that can't sing live," Cashmere sneers.

"You've gone under the knife too, sis. You weren't born with those tits," I point out.

Cashmere snaps her head round to me.

"What is the point in bringing that up? You should be angry about this too. This is discrimination," she says.

"Cato is a douche and everyone in the business knows that he's on drugs. You don't want to link yourself with some idiot who everyone will have forgotten about in five years' time. You don't need to be mean and judgemental about it," I reply.

Cashmere narrows her eyes at me but my words do calm her down. Slowly she turns back round to face Plutarch.

"Let's move on. I'm still more successful and beautiful than those two will ever be. What else do you have for me, Plutarch?" she asks.

Plutarch gives her a big smile as he whips out his tablet and begins scrolling through his diary.

"The Cato thing is a blow but I've got you an appearance on Caesar Flickerman tomorrow night. He's even going to let you perform. I've already got Cinna on the case to put you in something hot and it's going to be great publicity for the next single. We need to start getting the song out there," Plutarch says.

Cashmere seems placated by this and leans forward to ask to see the email from Flickerman's people. He has the most watched talk show in the West Coast and an appearance on his show can double single sales. However Cashmere's eyebrows soon knot into a frown and she looks up angrily at Plutarch.

"I'm on first? Why aren't I headlining? Everyone knows the biggest stars go on last," she says.

Plutarch struggles to stay cheery and positive as he looks at my sister's angry glare.

"He'd already booked that actress who's in those space films. You know the one who doesn't have a filter and tripped at the Oscars. I tried to negotiate for you to be top billing but all the fans on social media are clamouring for her appearance," Plutarch replies.

The sound of shattering glass fills the room as Cashmere slams a glass onto the ground

"I am not second best," she says in a low growl. "I'm on last or I'm not on at all."

Plutarch looks startled and gulps as he glances at the broken shards of glass on the ground. I look at him sympathetically before turning to Cashmere.

"Take deep breaths, Cash. We all know you are better than that actress. And any publicity is better than no publicity. You'll be a hit on Flickerman. I know it," I say.

Cashmere looks at me for a long moment before closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.

"You need to remind Flickerman that I know who he spent last New Years with. And it wasn't his husband. Maybe then I'll be top billing," she says calmly.

Plutarch nods his head before Cashmere leans forward so they can start discussing what to talk about on Flickerman's show tomorrow night. Another crisis seems to be averted for now but, as they speak, a slender figure appears at the bottom of the stairs.

I almost miss her because she comes down so quietly but I sit up straighter as she begins searching for her keys. Katniss' face is expressionless as she gathers up her things and she doesn't turn to acknowledge our presence in the living room. However she drops her keys on the floor and the clattering sound is enough to alert her presence to Plutarch and my sister.

Plutarch turns round slightly confused about who is intruding in the house. But this look soon turns to amazement as he catches sight of Heath's long lost daughter.

"Oh my goodness! Is that little Katniss Everdeen? We all thought you had run off to join a cult!" Plutarch exclaims.

"That's what I hoped," Cashmere mutters next to me.

I shake my head at her as Plutarch gets up to go round and get a proper look at Katniss. She looks mildly appalled to have been caught and stares at him with wide eyes as he crushes her in a hug. He then holds her at arm's length as he studies her carefully.

"You've certainly grown up well. I can't believe how beautiful you are. What fantastic skin and it's almost like I'm looking in your daddy's eyes when I look into yours. Cashmere, I think Katniss gives you a run for your money!" Plutarch exclaims.

I wince when I hear his words. Cashmere looks livid as she grinds her teeth while looking at Katniss. Plutarch is oblivious to it all and you can almost see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work out how to make money from Katniss' return.

"It's nice to see you again, Plutarch. I see your shirts are as bright as ever," Katniss says politely, though her eyes flick towards to the door, suggesting that this is the last place she wants to be.

"Ha! I hope you like them. This one was a birthday gift from a certain well known Oscar winning actress!" Plutarch exclaims puffing his chest out in pride.

Katniss forces a smile but her eyes look over to the door again with longing. Plutarch is still oblivious and continues chattering on as Cashmere sits beside me getting angrier and angrier.

"So what's brought you back to LA? Please tell me it's to follow in your Dad's footsteps. If I remember correctly you had quite the singing voice as a child. I could help get your voice heard. Everyone at the label will just die when I tell them that Heath Everdeen's daughter is back! You could even do a duet with Cashmere! The fans would love it!" Plutarch says.

I can only stifle a laugh as I see the look of horror on both Cashmere's and Katniss' face when Plutarch suggests this.

"I'm not a singer," Katniss states bluntly.

The smile drops from Plutarch's face and I don't think I've seen him this disappointed since his favourite television singing show got cancelled.

"I'm just here to pick up some of my dad's things. I'm not sticking around for long," she adds.

Plutarch's face drops further and he drops his arms that were holding Katniss.

"What a pity. You could have made out like a bandit in this city," he says.

Katniss smiles weakly before managing to edge away from Plutarch. She tells Plutarch she has to be somewhere and turns to leave. Just before she reaches the door she turns and her eyes catch on to mine. She holds my stare for a brief moment before whipping round and dashing out the door.

Plutarch sighs as the door closes behind her and slumps down on the couch.

"I wish I could convince her to sing. With that beauty and her father's name she would be an instant hit," Plutarch muses.

Neither Cashmere nor I reply as Plutarch leans forward to pick up his tablet. He still mutters about Katniss so he doesn't notice the daggers that my sister is throwing in his direction.


Cashmere's mood doesn't improve for the rest of the day and I call my friend Finnick to suggest a night out so I can get away from the tense atmosphere at home. Katniss didn't make another appearance today and I hope she is alright after everything that happened today.

I meet Finnick in a trendy karaoke bar in downtown LA. It's become a favourite of ours because of its laidback atmosphere and retro décor. Neither Finnick nor I are singers but you can't stop us getting up there once we've had a few drinks. Finnick is already waiting for me there with a beer and a shot when I arrive.

"Get this down your throat. Tequila always produces our best performances," Finnick says as I take the stool next to him.

I take the shot off him and grin before I tip the contents down my throat. Finnick grins at me as he pats me on the back. Several pairs of female eyes pin on us and some begin whispering behind their hands as they point at us. Finnick catches one group's eye and he gives them a cheeky smile and wave that has them all blushing and leaning in closer together to whisper about him.

This is not an unusual sight when I am out with Finnick. He's a model that has recently tried to get into acting and even as a man I can tell his bronze hair, green eyes and six foot three muscular frame is attractive. Finnick is never short of admirers.

We've been friends for three years now. He played the love interest in one of Cashmere's music videos and we hit it off immediately. We bonded over basketball and motorbikes and cemented our friendship with a drunken night in Vegas. Now that my childhood friend, Thresh, has moved with his wife to Tennesse, Finnick is the first person I call when I need someone to talk to or just want to blow off some steam.

I quickly fill him in on all that happened with Cashmere, Katniss and Plutarch today. Finnick raises his eyebrows in surprise when he finds out that Heath's daughter is back.

"Oh man! I would pay to watch Cashmere react to Katniss living back in her house. There's definitely a reality TV programme in there," he says.

"Don't give Plutarch any ideas. He's desperate to make money off Katniss' return," I reply.

Finnick laughs as he shakes his head and takes a sip of his beer.

"What's she like anyway? Is she hot?" Finnick asks.

I sigh and shake my head at him.

"Physical appearance is always more important to you. You are never actually interested to know if they are a good human being," I reply.

"Look, I apologise about Glimmer. How was I to know she'd turn out to be a psycho that would burn all your clothes? At least I got you laid," Finnick says.

I shake my head at my best friend as he reminds me of my most recent ex. I finally managed to break things off two weeks ago but Glimmer, a well known model who is the self-proclaimed queen of social media, didn't take the news well.

"You always pick out the nut jobs for me. I'm never trusting your judgement again," I say.

Finnick grins as he leans back and throws an arm around the back of the stool.

"Fine. But stop avoiding the real subject. On a scale of one to ten how hot is Katniss Everdeen?" he asks.

I know he won't let me get away with it and I'll be forced to give my honest opinion about Katniss. My mind wanders back to when I first saw her in the kitchen this morning and a smile appears across my face.

"I wouldn't describe her as hot," I begin. "She's beautiful. In the complete opposite way to Cashmere. She didn't wear an ounce of make-up and wore these tiny little shorts that showed off great legs but she was embarrassed when she caught me looking at them. And then she has these beautiful grey eyes. I never seen a colour like it. Like clouds on a stormy day."

I'm lost in thought and Finnick catches me day dreaming. A smile slowly spreads across his face.

"Sounds like you have a little crush," he says smugly.

I snap out of my thoughts about Katniss and turn to focus on him.

"I barely know her. I wouldn't call it a crush," I reply.

"Oh, come on, Peet. I know when a girl has got you smitten. The two of you living in the same house. It's only a matter of time before you end up having some naked time together," he says.

I shake my head at him.

"I don't think Katniss is like that. Even if I wanted that I don't think she would go anywhere near me," I reply.

Finnick smiles again as he takes a sip on his beer.

"Whatever you say, bro," he says, clearly not believing me.

I sigh but don't bother arguing any further. It'll just further convince Finnick that he's right. But I have no intentions on pursuing Katniss. I'm pretty sure she wouldn't be interested and Cashmere would castrate me if she found out. Finnick soon changes the subject and I forget about Katniss Everdeen and her beautiful grey eyes for a moment.

The bar gets busier as the night goes on and there are some half decent singers up on stage. Some obviously think that they are going to get talent spotted here and they fill their songs with over the top riffs and warbling. Finnick and I keep topping ourselves up with tequila shots in preparation for our own performance.

However just after midnight I spot a familiar set of grey eyes.

"Holy shit! Katniss is here!" I exclaim as some beer dribbles down my chin.

I hastily wipe away the amber liquid and Finnick cranes his neck to try and catch a glimpse of her. I point him in the direction of Katniss, who's standing with a tall male and a short woman with spikey hair. Katniss looks even more beautiful from when I saw her this morning. Her dark hair is in flowing waves down her back and she wears a tight fitting pair of jeans with a black lace crop top that shows off her toned stomach. There is just a hint of eyeshadow and mascara that make her grey eyes stand out even more. Finnick lets out a low whistle when he catches sight of her.

"You weren't overselling her. She's breath-taking. Definitely hotter than Cashmere," he says.

I nod my head in agreement as I can't take my eyes off her. She looks so much more relaxed than she did in the house. Her tall male friend bends down to whisper something in her ear and her mouth twists up into a grin as she laughs. A surge of jealousy runs through me at seeing how comfortable she is with her friends.

Finnick catches me staring and smiles smugly at me again.

"I'm giving it a month," he says.

I glare at him, which just causes him to chuckle.

I debate with myself whether or not to go up and say hi to her. My sister may not like her but that doesn't me I can't try to be friends with her. We are going to be living in the same house for a while. I don't want things to be awkward between us.

Finnick eventually gives me a big nudge and tells me to go and speak to her. I make my move when I see Katniss go up to the bar by herself. I squeeze my way through the crowd and slide into the space beside her. I take a deep breath and put on my most winning smile as I prepare to talk to her.

"Are you following me, sweetheart? I must have made quite an impression on you this morning," I say.

Katniss turns to look at me and rolls her eyes when she sees me. She turns back to look at the bar as she taps her nails against it.

"And here I thought I was escaping from you and your sister," she says.

I give her my most confident grin as I lean casually against the bar.

"You really don't like my sister, do you?" I say. "It doesn't matter. The feeling is mutual. Cashmere doesn't like you either."

Katniss shrugs her shoulders as the bartender comes to take her order. She gives it to them before answering me.

"I honestly don't care what Cashmere thinks about me," Katniss replies.

"You don't, do you?" I say.

Katniss turns to look me in the eye.

"Why does that surprise you? It doesn't matter what other people think about me. As long as I am happy and think I am a good person, that's all I care about," she replies.

I relax my muscles as the cocky smile falls from my face. Instead I look at her with a kind of awe.

"I don't think it is a bad thing. It's refreshing to think like that. Most people in LA are obsessed with how they are perceived. I think more people should have your attitude," I say honestly.

Katniss looks at me carefully before she shakes her head.

"I can't figure you out. I get glimpses of an honest and genuine guy and then there are other times where I think you are the most arrogant guy on the planet," she says.

I straighten up and raise my eyebrows at her.

"I knew you liked me more than you let on," I say with a cheeky smile.

"See! This is exactly what I mean. You've gone back to arrogant asshole mode. I don't think you are aware you even do it. It's just a subtle shift in your body language and smile. I don't have time for that. I'm only interested in real people," she says.

I realise that I want her to like me. In the brief interactions we've had she's proven to be different from almost every other girl I have met. I don't want her to think I am arrogant. I shift my body position again and look at her seriously. I pause momentarily as I think of the right words to say.

"I don't take sugar in my tea. I always double knot my shoelaces and can't sleep without the window open. My favourite colour is orange. Not bright orange but soft, like the sunset. Sunsets are my favourite things to paint because no matter how many I see not one is the same. I love travelling the world to paint as many different ones as I can," I say.

Katniss listens to me intently as I speak. I drop the cocky bravado and try to be as honest as I can be. I think I even see the hint of a smile on her lips.

"I hope that's real enough for you. I'd like to know the real things about you too," I say sincerely.

There is definitely a small smile on her face now and it stays on there as she turns to pay for the drinks. She gathers the bottles in her hands and smiles at me as she prepares to leave.

"My favourite colour is green," she says.

She smiles at me one last time before turning to push her way back to her friends. I can't stop the grin that spreads across my face. It's not a lot but I'll take it. I'll just have to work hard to gain her trust enough to find out more.

I'm still grinning when I get back to Finnick with fresh beers and two shots of tequila. He slaps me on the back as I sit down and demands to know what happened with Katniss.

"We chatted," I say coyly. "I think we can be friends."

Finnick grins and shakes his head before we both turn our attention to the stage. A duo have just finished an energetic rendition of a popular dance track and the audience are clamouring for the next singer. I cheer and clap when I see Katniss climb up onto the stage. She's smiling as her friends push her up there and she laughs when she gets to the top. She takes the microphone off the MC and turns out to face the crowd.

Finnick nudges me in the ribs and gives me a grin. But I'm not paying attention. My attention is firmly fixed on the girl on the stage. She told Plutarch earlier today that she didn't sing but I can still remember her beautiful voice at Cashmere's wedding. I wonder if she still sounds as mesmerising.

She smiles as she tells the MC her song and then looks down at the ground with her eyes closed as she waits for the music to start. The first few bars begin to play and it's an old country song, one I'm pretty sure her dad used to sing. She raises her eyes just before she opens her mouth to sing and I realise that I have been holding my breath waiting for her to begin.

There had been some chatter in the bar as she got up but the whole place suddenly goes silent. Katniss transforms when she is on that stage. Her whole body relaxes and moves in time with the music. Her face lights up and brightens the room. But it is her voice that captivates everyone. It's soft and soulful and utterly compelling. I sit with my mouth open as I watch her, transfixed.

You can hear a pin drop as she performs and every eye is on her. When the song ends there is a moment of quiet as the audience come to terms with what we just heard. And then the whole place erupts into thunderous applause. I'm up on my feet and raising my finger to my lips to whistle. Several people clamour for an encore but Katniss almost looks embarrassed as she hears the applause. She blushes as she drops her eyes to the ground and then turns towards her friends. They cheer and clap loudly as well and she laughs as she rushes down the steps to join them and they encase her in a massive three-way hug. I can't take my eyes off her as the next singer comes on stage and is completely drowned out by the applause for Katniss.

Eventually I lose sight of Katniss as she and her friends disappear further into the crowd. I turn round to face Finnick with a content smile on my face. Finnick grins broadly at me when I sit back down. It's then I realise that he has his phone out and had it set to record.

"That's the best thing I've heard all year. Man, you've got to send this video to Plutarch. Katniss Everdeen deserves to be heard!" he exclaims.

"I don't know, Finn. She seemed pretty against it when he spoke to her earlier about it," I say.

Finnick shakes his head furiously.

"If you don't do it, I will. She loves performing. You can see it on her face when she's up there. I bet she's just scared about following in her dad's footsteps," he says.

I look back out in the direction I last saw her as I ponder Finnick's words. Katniss did transform when she was up there and a voice that beautiful should not be hidden in a karaoke bar. I take a deep breath as I make a decision and ask Finnick to send me the video. Plutarch will have a nice present in his inbox when he wakes up tomorrow morning.