So "Ashes" finishes the set they had planned, and because I am the way I am, I turn to Jo, whisper a frantic "gotta get out of here!", grab her by the arm, and start hauling ass to her car parked around the corner. She is intentionally dragging her feet, makes me stop at the fire pits so she can pretend to fix her shoe – bitch is wearing Toms, they go on like fucking slippers, there is nothing to fix! This is her way of making me confront what has just passed between Peeta and myself.

Suffice it to say that I am freaking out. I nervously glance up at every person leaving the venue and have mini panic attacks each time, until I realize none of them are him. At the first view of blonde hair peeking around the doorway, I audibly gasp and I'm sure I'm doing that constipated looking face, but I'm in luck because its some girl with a pixie cut. Delly, I think. I am done waiting. "Jo. JO!" My hands beckon her to hurry, doing floppy little circles with my wrists. She sighs heavily, pushes herself off the pit and slowly walks toward me.

"I just don't know what your deal is. "

That's fine. She doesn't have to understand. I just need her to keep moving towards her car that will soon get us miles away from here.

We are out the gate, headed down the alleyway studded with little Victorian houses, when I hear him. "Katniss! Wait up!"

Without wasting any time, Johanna steps on the back of my right foot, sliding my oxford shoe from my heel and effectively giving me the world's most inopportune flat tire. I hop on my left foot, send a scathing look her way, and reach down to correct my footwear. By now, Peeta is basically at my side.

"Hey." He turns to Jo. "I'm Peeta. Mellark. "

"Yes, hello to you, Mr. Mellark. I'm Jo, a friend of Madge." She is addressing him but looking at me, and I am looking at nothing in particular. "Another flawless show for you and your friends. Kat especially likes cover songs covered by cute-"

"What's up, Peeta?" I quickly interject before things turn terrible for me. Not likely I will be able to salvage this evening anyways past this point. Maybe I should have said something positive about the show…

He's smiling and leaning slightly to the side, trying to get me to make eye contact with him. I swivel on my heel, meeting his gaze for one second – which is probably too long, really, because his blue eyes make me feel lightheaded. And that goddamn smile. Fucking Peeta. My eyes are moving too much, I'm blinking excessively, looking from his eyes to his honey colored hair under the street lights, back to his eyes, and then to his lips. Big mistake. Those dimples are back.

"Did you guys have plans for… well, the rest of your evening? The band and a few other friends are headed to my place. You should come. Just drinks and coffee and… good company." Its like the smile and the dimples do all the talking for him. All he really needs to do is stand in place and let the womenfolk turn to a puddle at his feet.

I open my mouth to say Thanks but no thanks, but am beat to the punch by traitorous Jo who excitedly accepts his invitation and his address. She even offers to stop by the liquor store on our way over. My jaw is slack and my brows are furrowed – what exactly does she have in mind here? Peeta gives her this friendly little gesture of squeezing her shoulder, which comes exactly to his collar bone, with his palm, and when he smiles and walks away, I already know. I know its too late for me to escape whatever devious plot Jo is running in her head.

But maybe its not such a bad idea, to play around a bit, I think to myself as Peeta walks back to the venue, that damn carabiner clipped right where I saw it last, swinging back and forth across his perfect ass with each step. As soon as he leaves my view I turn to Jo to commence our belated escape, but the smile on her face confirms my thoughts that she is desperately trying to hold back a laugh at my awkwardness. "Fine, Jo, I will play it this way for you. Tonight only. But YOU have to buy the booze."

She finally releases her held in laugh and gently shoves my shoulder as we begin walking again. "I just wish you could tell me why you have such a hesitation to flirt with cute guys who flirt first. He totally sought you out, Kat, running – HE RAN! – out here to invite us – you. And he's fine as hell."

I just shake my head. Yes, I know he is cute – I have practically been obsessing with him since that first concert, and seeing him this morning and then again tonight with the song thing, and oh! I just know I could fall completely to pieces over that blonde hair and those sapphire eyes, completely setting aside all of his other merits that make him a decent person. I don't want him to be decent! I want him to be a total dick so I can stop thinking about those little worn whiskers on his jeans…

I know Johanna is still talking, still saying all kinds of stupid shit about how I should "just hit it and quit it" – yeah, like I could even get someone like Peeta in my bed EVER – but I just keep my head down and study the pavement. I jiggle the handle to her sedan at least three times before she actually hits the right button to unlock it, after hitting panic twice and yelling "Fuck!" once.

The ride to the liquor store is brief, which works for me because Jo has started speculating my virginity even though she knows every torrid and embarrassing detail of my two "conquests", a ridiculously generous name for whatever happened between myself and Jess first, and then myself and Seth. Ugh. I shiver thinking about both of those asshats. A girl gets a few free passes though, right?

She starts ticking items off her fingers. "Alright, I feel like losing myself in a bottle of el Jimador. Madgie loves the fruity shit. Nah, fuck that, she can deal without bitch beer for one night. What would a smokin hot hipster a la Peeta Mellark want to chase away the pain of aloof Kat?"

"Beer. And there is nothing 'aloof' to chase away." I have no idea what is good or not – not a big drinker. Although I very much look forward to having the edge taken off tonight… "Something from Squatters? Like a micro or something?"

Jo swings the door open grandly and announces "He gets PBR. Its like, totally the 'make fun of a hipster beer'. In a cheap beer line up, I pick PBR."

I can't not laugh at this. Hopefully she stays sober enough tonight to keep me from doing anything stupid…

Its weird, but there are thirteen steps to Peeta's loft above The Pride Center, and this is me admitting to counting stairs when I stress the freak out. Normally there are twelve. But anyways, I took careful note of the cars parked outside and immediately recognized Madge's little two door, Peeta's Subaru, and Gill's fixie leaned up against one side of a pergola. I can do this, I remind myself, preparing for whatever brash entrance Johanna is planning. His door is ajar and I can already hear music and laughter and someone in the middle of some raucous story.

"The booze is here, you whores," one of few terms of endearment from Johanna. Its moments like this when I sincerely envy her confidence, the way she walks into the apartment, right into the kitchen and starts opening cabinets for cups and a knife to cut limes. Its like she's been here a thousand times before. I stand awkwardly just inside the door before I realize how weird I must look and start walking to inspect a framed print to my right. Upon closer inspection, it's a Ken Bailey, just like I thought. Three Lab Bakery. Dammit. Even though I am wearing flats, the heels of my shoes make what sounds to me as unnecessarily loud clicks and clacks against the wood floor. The rest of the group is noisily getting drinks set up and someone, Gill I think, continues the story Jo and I must have interrupted when I see a teal blue upright piano just to the side of the largest warehouse window overlooking the city. Piano too? And an antique collectible one at that…

My hands move of their own accord to lift the key cover, gingerly opening the hinge so I don't attract the attention of the rest of the room. I glance quickly over my shoulder to the kitchen area full of crowded young people and chance a gentle press to a piano key. Its lovely, the sound rich and full, Peeta very obviously treasures his instruments and keeps them in tune. Just as I'm closing the cover, he appears to my left, holding an amber colored glass out to me. "Johanna said you wouldn't want beer, so tequila it is. Or I have coffee… I can make coffee."

I take the small glass from his hand, careful not to touch his skin or even look in his eyes. "This is good. Thanks." My free hand finds the small of my back, and mostly for something to do other than obsess over his beauty, I move to look out the large window at the twinkling lights of the city. There are no shades or blinds – the busyness of downtown must be always visible to him here. But I would bet he enjoys that…

"I'm glad you came. Both of you. Have you, uh, have you met the rest of the group?"

Is he nervous?

I take two big swallows of this mediocre drink before turning to face him. The heat from the cheap tequila fills my chest and brings a flush to my face, and now that I am feeling braver and slightly silly I look his way just in time to see him bring his can to his lips. "Oh my god! It totally is the hipster beer!"

Peeta swallows quickly, glances down at his hand that holds a single can of Pabst Blue Ribbon, and when he meets my gaze again he is smiling. "You pegged me exactly right, you and Johanna should be very proud of yourselves."

God he's cute.

"Just one can, though. Gill will be completely plastered, you and Madge look like lightweights – no offense – but Johanna might be able to hold her own… Somebody here has to be responsible. Oh! And Delly, I gotta get the coffee started for Delly," he motions for me to follow him into the now empty kitchen. I hesitate before I slowly echo his footsteps.

I sit on one of the stools lining the counter and watch him as he fiddles with his coffeemaker, replacing the filter and shaking new grounds inside. When he turns around to face me he takes two steps closer, resting his palms on the counter to either side of my elbows bent around my glass. I shy away from his gaze and become immediately fascinated by the lime sandwiched between two ice cubes.

"I'm not a creep, you know," he not quite whispers to me and I raise my head. There's this twinkle in his eyes – he's teasing and adorable and I'm melting the longer I look at him so swivel in the chair to be seated more on the side. Better. He continues. "But maybe saying that 'I'm not a creeper' automatically makes me one, but of a less degree. I just… I hope I didn't upset you today. You," he takes a deep breath. "You're very talented."

"YOU think I'M talented?" The one facial expression I successfully convey is sarcasm. "Right, Peeta, I'm on my way to fame and fortune as this generation's Isadora Duncan, who you don't even know so that was a dumb reference. Black Swan – I'm soon to be Black Swan. Yep." I chug the rest of my drink, not so gently put my glass on his butcher block counter, and reach for the bottle.

He is laughing – am I even being funny? "No, I know Isadora – she's the scarf one, right?" When I nod, he adds, "Tragic," and he is laughing again. It's a deep, breathy sound, and the fucking dimples are back and I think I'm finished treading water here.

Once my glass is full again, twice as full as the first time, I step down from my seat, raise my glass to salute him and turn back to the group to locate Jo or Madge or someone easier to look at without getting all aflutter. I spot Madge, out cold, lounging across two-thirds of the couch, snoring slightly with her mouth open. How long have we been here? I make my way to her, straighten her dress to look less scandalous – we were dangerously close to nipple, here – and pull her boots from her feet. If she's gonna crash at Peeta's I can at least make it comfortable for her, I guess. When I stand I realize my glass has been drained yet again. "Who drank my fucking 'quila?" I might have yelled this, even though it was my intention to just think it, but…

There is laughter, male-sounding laughter, and I take count of the people in the room. There are at least twelve, fourteen people here… But when I started drinking there were… maybe six? Shit. When did this happen?

I lean down to one man's face, rest my palm on his chest, and not knowing who he is at all, ask him if he's seen Jo, describing her short dark hair, ample boobs, and crass personality. He says something about Gill taking a girl down the hall and I instantly enrage.

"No way. If I don't get ass, she doesn't get ass," and I take off marching to what I think is the hallway. But before I can get there I gracelessly move out of the way of two dudes tossing a football, and shove myself into a gaggle of girls I don't recognize. This is my mistake. They are dancing and jumping, and in one fell swoop I take an elbow to the temple and crumple to the floor.

Sleep at last.

Sounds flutter back to me before visuals do. I distinctly hear Peeta talking to another female voice that sounds vaguely familiar but I have trouble placing. Also there is music again – whether it stopped and started again or I just became unaware of it, I don't know. I let the security of closed eyes and momentary drunk confusion wash over me. I have been an ass. I'm embarrassed, and not just by my weak anti-social performance here. The day's events replay in my mind, and I get stuck more than once on the scene of meeting Peeta in the faculty studio, and walking him out to his car. This has to stop.

I force my eyes open, and once I adjust to the lights, I notice Peeta leaning against the back of the couch and Delly kneeling next to me. For half a second I get kind of mad that they left me here on the floor – I guess I imagined going full out damsel and waking in a four poster bed. Weird. Everything feels really weird. This is not shit that I do.

"I am so sorry. And I am so embarrassed. I didn't… ruin the night for anybody, did I?" My hands make themselves into fists and I rub both of my eyes. I pull my hands away and notice streaks of my purple eye pencil, and surely I now have scary zombie under eyes from rubbing my makeup. I gingerly rise up onto my elbows when Delly starts speaking.

"Ya, you took quite the spill there. For a second I thought you had hit the end table on your way, smacked your head or hip or something important, based on how hard you went down. Like a ton of bricks. But you look like a little petite flower though so… that was different…"

God. My mortification grows with every second I stay in this apartment, in a heap on the floor. "I actually feel okay, and I better get home." Shit! Jo is MIA, I am not about to drive, and Madge is still out. "Uh, I actually… um, I might have to stay until Jo comes back. Or gets tired of that guy or… something." I nervously glance up at Peeta. "Sorry. Kind of wore out my welcome."

He's chewing one side of his mouth and raises his eyebrows. "Nah, I can appreciate a girl trying to have a good time."

"Yeah," I scoff, straightening my shorts as I stand. "Not what I was aiming for, but I'm glad you can forgive me."

I take a step forward, reaching for the blazer I removed at some point during the night and misstep poorly, apparently still on my sea legs. Delly grabs me by my arm to steady me, saying "Easy. I can take you home, Katniss. I was just on my way out, anyways." She looks over at Madge, then to Peeta. "Please make sure that girl's dress stays up. I would take her home too, but I kind of have my hands full here."

I am a terrible friend because I allow Delly, this petite blonde girl with bird bone arms, to take me away from Madge. But I just feel so completely awful that I hope she can overlook my stupidity. With Delly still steadying me by my arm, I turn around just enough to address Peeta one last time. Maybe the last time ever. "She'll be okay, right? Madgie? You'll make sure she's safely… deposited… at home, right?"

"Don't worry, Katniss. I'm getting ready to toss everyone out soon anyways." I catch movement near his side – the fingers on his right hand are wiggling, bending and straightening, like he doesn't know what to do with them. They find their way into his front pocket, and one more time tonight I question his confidence. Obviously he is a gifted performer, but that's lots of people in one space all just waiting for him to be wonderful. Do I make him nervous? I kind of hope so – because this son of a bitch invades my thoughts more than necessary. "Goodnight. Katniss," he says, and I halfway smile and nod to him.

Delly helps me down the stairs and into the front seat of her van. "Every band needs one – lucky me, huh." I twist in my seat and see everyone's instruments in the back piled high, almost completely blocking out her rear view.

I somehow manage to give her cohesive enough directions to my apartment across from the city center. I close my eyes and listen to her prattle on about a few different things, none of which is very consequential. She brings up music (predictably), coffee (lame), and school (meh). When she says something about Peeta and "the girly Ingrid Michaelson song", I open my eyes and immediately tune in. "He likes that song, you know. And he told me what happened."

My face heats up – so its not a Peeta/Katniss secret, my solo dancing earlier today. I don't know what to say, but lucky for me she keeps talking. "We should try this again – hanging out together. All of us, maybe. What do you think? In fact," she digs in her bag by the center console, pulling out her phone and handing it to me. "Add yourself to my contacts. I was going to make sure I got your digits so I could text you tomorrow, make sure you were feeling okay."

Fine. This seems harmless enough. I hit save just as she pulls up to my building. I hand her phone over, mutter a quiet thanks, and head inside alone. When I climb the stairs I feel a slight buzz from my tote bag – she is already texting me. Cute. Right?

Once inside my safe haven that is this shitty apartment, I kick off my shoes with my shorts immediately to follow. The jacket gets tossed somewhere. I have just enough energy to brush my teeth and plug my phone into the charger. I collapse face down on the bed and am out like a light.

When I wake many hours later but not nearly enough, I am relieved to see Madge in my bed with me. She made it here at least, in what shape exactly I can't be sure. Her boob has finally escaped the confines of her sundress though, so I toss an extra blanket over her.

I walk to the kitchen, which is further than my 700 feet apartment I'm pretty sure, grab a couple bottles of water and a bottle of aspirin. When I get back to my room, I close the shades, medicate myself heavily, and reach for my cell. There are four new texts.

Unknown: HI! Delly here. Hope ur feeling better. M and I were gonna have coffee later today. U should come

Not likely. I am down for the count, and I doubt "M" is going anywhere anytime soon. Next.

JoHoe (her doing, not my idea): We didn't fuck. Just FYI.

Oh good. At least her virtue remains intact as far as Gill is concerned. Slightly amused at the name she assigned herself in my phone…

Madgie: OMG OMG PRETTY SURE GILL DIGGIN JO BUT I AM WAY DRUNK AND ALL CAPS.

A very astute observation. Right as I'm thinking this she lets out an unusually loud snore.

Unknown: Delly again – I gave Peet your number. Sorry not sorry.

Well this should be interesting.