Seize Me

Chapter 4

"I'm in love with a girl I hate,

She enjoys pointing out every bad thing about me.

I'm in love with a critic and a skeptic, a traitor,

I'd trade her in a second."

Forever the Sickest Kids-She's a Lady

When all is said and done, I get probably close to five hours of sleep.

And Madge knows this, which is probably why she's made a point of avoiding me as a rule this morning, aside from when she'd handed me my coffee. And steering clear of someone on a tour bus—even one as large as this one—is a feat. So she must be really worried about my sleep-deprived angry bear side showing up this morning.

Which, in any other situation, it would.

But it's hard to be irritable when Prim is gently brushing my hair and weaving it into an intricate braid while humming along to the groove Gale's picking out on his bass over at his end of the couch. Peeta's sitting on the other couch across from us, nodding occasionally and hitting a few notes on his guitar now and then to go along with what Gale's doing, making suggestions here and there on key changes or complementing rhythms. I close my eyes and lean into Prim's hands, letting the relaxing croon of Gale's bass guitar and Prim's expert hands lull me into a state of utter Zen. That is, until Finnick ruins it by stopping his frantic pacing in the small room and throwing the notepad he'd been scrawling on against the wall in frustration.

"I'm telling you," he snarls, throwing his hands up in the air agitatedly. The pen he'd been holding also goes flying haphazardly through the small space as he says, "This sounds like everything else we've put out."

"Chill out," Rory replies coolly. He's leaning back in his armchair and spinning one of his drumsticks around his fingers with practiced ease. "People like what we've been playing. What's wrong with keeping it up?"

"Putting out new music is a gamble," Finnick groans. He throws himself down on the small bench at the makeshift kitchen table, putting his elbows on the table and his face in his palms in exasperation. "You keep doing the same thing, they'll say you're a one-trick pony. Try something too different, they'll say you're trying too hard." He parts his fingers to give Rory a stern look between them. "They don't know what they want, so we have to figure it out ourselves and then convince them we got it right."

"I don't get it," Johanna huffs from her seat on the kitchen counter. She doesn't look up when she talks; instead she keeps her gaze riveted on her nails, which she's filing into perfect U-shapes. "Don't you have, like, a research team who finds out for you?"

Peeta speaks up now, his and Gale's attention having left the music to focus on Finnick's temper tantrum. "Sure, we have people who look at what kind of music is trending best with people nowadays." He gives a small shrug of resignation and says, "But the good artists are the ones who make the music that set the trends. Some artists are content with always being followers, but we decided early on that's not what we do."

"Fight the man," Gale says with a goofy smile.

Peeta shakes his head. "I don't think fighting the man is really what we're going for." He gives Gale a fake patronizing smile that makes Prim giggle.

Gale throws out his hand at Peeta, flipping (it) in a downward (cut), waving Peeta off. The driver announces that we've arrived at the festival grounds, so Gale sets his bass off to the side and stands up to stretch, sighing as a few of his joints pop with the movement. Rory stands up and without a word, heads toward the back of the van. Following Gale's cue, Peeta also rises and grabs his guitar case and Gale's bass case. They each take a minute to loosen the strings a little to protect them while they're in the cases, then pack them up and sling them over their shoulders.

Madge stands and wraps her arms around Gale's waist, squeezing him tight.

"Hey," says Gale as he smiles and hugs her back. "We'll only be a little bit. We just have to get everything set up and checked then we'll meet you guys at the hotel. No worries."

Rory comes bounding back into the kitchen/dining/sitting room, weighed down by our overnight bags. Prim quickly finishes the elaborate braid she's been weaving in my hair and stands up to help him, thanking him profusely in her sweet little soprano voice that makes Rory go red with pleasure. He refuses to let her help, saying he'll put them in the car that's taking us to the hotel. Finnick follows him, calling that he'll help get the last of our luggage moved over to the car, and Johanna hastily skitters after him. Madge and Gale follow them, Gale continuing to reassure Madge that they won't be long and no, she shouldn't wait here for him, she should go back and relax at the hotel.

And suddenly I'm very aware that Peeta and I are the last ones left in the van.

Peeta slings his guitar case strap over his shoulder and gives me a wide smile.

"Excited to shower?"

I groan, suddenly more aware than ever of how sticky my skin feels, despite the quick wipe-down from last night. Luckily Prim's got my hair tied up so the greasiness shouldn't be so obvious. But I feel like he can smell me from where he's standing several feet away, and all I can concentrate on now is the itch of grossness that seems to have coated me within the last 24 hours.

Peeta chuckles. "Yeah, me too." He glances toward the door to the bus and sighs, adjusting the strap on his shoulder. "But this shouldn't take too long. There are a couple other bands who want to get set up too, so they won't let us hog the stage for very long. The only reason they're doing this is to keep things moving as fast as possible to avoid stalling between bands."

I'm surprised by this. "I thought that's where venues made all their money—when people go buy beer between sets."

Peeta lets out a bark of a laugh that startles me. "Yeah, usually. But in a crowd this big—like, half a football stadium big—things can get out of hand quickly if they have a chance to get rowdy. The shorter time between sets, the less time people have to incite a riot."

Big crowd? Riots?

Ok. I don't know how this didn't occur to me before. I mean, when they said 'festival,' I should have known this wasn't going to be a club scene like before. But for whatever reason, I hadn't really considered the fact there'd be a large number of people there. And I hate big crowds. A bar full of people I can handle. But a freaking sea of people who could crush me in a second? Yep, not my thing.

"Hey," says Peeta softly. He reaches over and takes my hand. He wraps his fingers around my hand, squeezing in a way I'm sure he meant to be reassuring but really just makes my pulse race and my cheeks turn red. "Don't worry. Unless you want to, you guys won't even have to be in the crowd. You can hang out with us and the rest of the bands and watch the show from the wings." His smile is sweet and his eyes kind as he locks his gaze encouragingly with mine. "You'll have nothing to worry about."

I stare at him, not sure how to respond. I just met this guy yesterday; what's he doing talking to me like this as if he knows me? I'm torn between thanking him shyly or ripping my hand out of his with a curt word on personal space. But he doesn't give me the chance. Peeta immediately drops my hand and gives me an easy smile, shifting this strap of his guitar case again and sliding one hand through his hair. I wonder for a minute what his hair feels like—if it's as soft as it looks. But his easy, self-assured grin annoys me and I put my hands on my hips and lock eyes with him defiantly.

"Are we going?" I ask curtly. I have to stop this flirting of his and stop it now before anyone —including me —gets the wrong idea.

I expect Peeta to look offended or hurt, but he doesn't. Instead he gives me a wide smile and sweeps his arm out in front of him to gesture toward the bus door. His grin is teasing, his eyes twinkling as if he's amused by my antics. So I roll my eyes and without another word, leave him behind in the bus.

The boys will take a separate car to the hotel after the soundcheck and the van will stay here at the stadium until we're ready to go to the next venue. So it's just our luggage that's been piled into the sleek compact limo that's waiting for us outside the bus. The other girls are saying good-bye to the boys, but I don't say anything, making a beeline instead for the car. Gale calls out something about seeing me later, but I only wave my hand at him dismissively before yanking open the car door and throwing myself inside to escape the white-hot gaze on the back of my head that I know is Peeta's.

The car is just as sleek inside as it is outside. Everything is black leather with a bench running along the length of the car as well as facing the front and back of the limo in a horseshoe shape. I find a bottle of champagne and four glasses sitting in the small cooler and waste no time popping it open and pouring myself a glass, downing half of it in one long swallow.

"Geez," huffs Johanna, sliding in beside me. "Thanks for waiting for us."

"Oooo," sighs Prim, sliding in after Madge and Johanna. "Champagne!"

We all look at her, staring as she pours herself a generous glass. Not only had she managed to hold down glass after glass of alcohol last night, but she'd popped up this morning chipper as a daisy with not even a headache to show for how much she'd abused her body last night.

"I retract," scowls Johanna, "any 'light-weight' references I may have every made about you, Prim."

"Girl knows how to hold her liquor," Madge says, giving me a secretive smile as Johanna hands her a glass.

Once everyone has a glass, we all put them together in toast as Johanna declares, "To livers of steel."

Prim gives a laugh and adds, "And lots of practice at frat parties."

And everyone breaks into hysterical laughter as I splutter, choking on my champagne in horror.

I don't think any of us were expecting a room quite so extravagant as the one we walk into.

The front room is beautiful, all red and gold in color. The couches are a plush microfiber designed to perfectly contour to your body, all facing a large flat-screen TV. The entire far wall is solid glass, which we can darken with a remote we find on the desk. The kitchenette off to the side of the room has a full stove, oven and fridge, each one stainless steel and covered with different function buttons. The counters are a cream color like the ones on the bus with a rusty-red and gold flecking to complement the front room decor. The bedroom's equipped with two king-sized beds, two full chest dressers, and a large entertainment center holding another large flat-screened tv. The far wall in here is also solid glass, with red floor-to-ceiling curtains that can be electronically pulled to cover the window. The beds are simple with cream comforters and plush red pillows, each with a small box of Godiva chocolates—yum—on them. The connected bathroom is separated from the bedroom by frosted glass walls. The bathroom sports a whirlpool and a shower big enough for at least three or four people, and I try to ignore all the different scenarios I imagine could have taken place in there.

Johanna seems to be thinking the same thing I am, but she hardly has my tact.

"Holy shit," she mumbles, nudging Prim and Madge hard in the elbows. "Talk about a bathroom fit for a rock star."

I'm sure Prim hears her, but she's very good at pretending she hasn't. Instead she walks past us and the small crew of staff depositing our luggage on the bed to go back to the front room. She checks out a door I'd previously thought was a closet or the like, but I can see now it's got a key-card reader on it identical to the one on the front door.

"I'll bet this," she says, sliding the key-card into the lock, "connects to the room next door." She swings the door open to show another door on the other side of it. "If both doors are open, the rooms are conjoining." She turns and gives the three of us a wide smile. "I'll bet the boys are on the other side."

I look over and see Johanna looking back at the bedroom thoughtfully then turns to give the rest of us a sly smile. I think we all register what she's about to do about a second too late, because Johanna manages to rush to the bedroom—nearly knocking over the small crew who've just finished depositing the last of our luggage in our room—and seize her luggage then dive into the bathroom before I can blink. But Madge is faster and she makes a break for it, determined to cut Johanna off before she can successfully plant herself in there, but she's too slow. With a maniacal cackle I know she's spouting just to piss Madge off, Johanna slams the door in Madge's face.

"That bitch," Madge sighs, rubbing her nose and falling down on the bed as Prim and I follow her to the bedroom, ignoring the exiting staff who are staring at us peculiarly. "It's like she's so insecure that she needs to make sure the rest of us look like hags so Finnick will only notice her."

"Actually," Prim says as she sits down beside Madge, "I think the one she's worried about is Katniss."

"Ha!" Johanna shouts from the bathroom. I can hear the shower turning on and I'm overwhelmingly grateful she's not decided to soak in the whirlpool. "Like Finnick could even get Katniss to give him a second look, what with the way she's been making goo-goo eyes at Peeta."

Madge and Prim's gazes are on me instantly, their eyes wide in surprise.

"Really?" Madge asks, one corner of her mouth curving up into an amused smile. "Peeta?"

"No!" I shout, appalled. I stand firmly in the doorway between the front room and bedroom, ready to bolt from their scrutiny at a moment's notice. "No boys, Madge. I've already decided to swear off boys on this trip."

"Well that's not fun," Prim says with a roll of her eyes. "He's totally into you too."

I can't help it. I burst out laughing without any real mirth. "I sincerely doubt that, Little Duck."

Prim goes to say something, but Madge cuts her off. "Don't even try to convince her," she tells Prim, giving me a teasing sideways glance. "She never seems to believe that anyone could take an interest in her."

I try to come up with something to say in retaliation to this, but I've got nothing. And that's because it's true. I've never had anything to offer in any of my relationships with anyone except for Prim and Gale. Gale and I both worked together to keep sane after the deaths of our fathers and the sudden burden of caring for families neither one of us were prepared for. For Prim, I've given everything I have left—my time, my money, my energy. Johanna and I hadn't had anything else to give each other except our company and sarcasm, which is probably why we'd stuck with each other as long as we had. With Madge...well, Madge I really hadn't had anything for her, and she'd given me the world: friendship, financial support, housing after graduation. Madge had been a well of goodness for me. And I'd had nothing to offer her in exchange. And if I had nothing for Madge, I certainly didn't have anything for anyone else. So why would anyone take an interest in me?

So for now I allow the conversation to drop where Madge has left it, instead joining them in unpacking our bags. I'm sickened when I realize that nothing in the bag is mine from home. Actually, the bag is full of clothing you'd only see on the most chic of punk-rock girls, largely featuring leather and interesting cuts of different colored cloths. A quick glance over at Prim and Madge tells me their bags contain similar clothing, although Prim's reaction is very different from Madge's and mine.

"This is so cool," she exclaims, ripping piece after piece out of the bag. It's almost comedic, really—like she's discovered Mary Poppins' endless bag of goodies. By the time she's done emptying the bag, she's covered an entire bed with its contents. Among the clothes, she's also located a small plastic parcel, which she unties to reveal a long roll of fabric with several pockets, all filled with pieces of jewelry. Prim's eyes are wide as saucer plates as she takes it all in, and my initial horror at the spread is replaced with a small bit of pleasure at watching Prim's joy. She's never had pretty, nice things to enjoy, and I'd always hated the looks she got in grade school in her hand-me-down dresses. I know I'll have to work overtime to pay Gale back for all of this, but in this moment I know it's worth it.

"I can't believe that Gale Hawthorne," Madge sighs, fingering a lacy shirt forlornly. "He must be doing better than I thought."

"I'm going to kill him," I mutter half-heartedly as I start to pick through the clothes.

"Good," Madge says with a smile. "It will save me the effort."

We—and by 'we' I mean Madge and Prim—are just starting to pick out outfits for the three of us when Madge pipes up without warning, catching me off guard.

"He remembered you from when you visited Gale a few years ago," Madge says nonchalantly, although I can see her watching me closely for a reaction. "Peeta did," she clarifies when she sees the confused look on my face. "He'd asked about you after you left, wanted to know how you'd been since graduation."

"Graduation?" I ask, confused. I don't trust myself to look her in the eye. Instead I keep sorting through my bag, trying to find something I can imagine myself buying on my own volition. So far, no luck.

Madge shrugs and says, "Yeah, he went to highschool with us." She stares at me now, watching me pointedly avoid her gaze as I rifle through the endless array of clothing. Then she realizes I genuinely don't know what she's talking about. "Oh my God," she says softly. "You really don't remember him do you?"

I swear her head goes in a full 360˚ when I shake my head 'no,' still unable to meet her eyes. I don't know why I'm so embarrassed by it. Maybe because, based on the way my body's responding to him now, it must have been a feat for me to have been totally oblivious to him in high school. I could argue I'd been too distracted to notice boys, but that's not really true. I'd had a few boyfriends in high school, even more in college. So, there's no reason I wouldn't have remembered him.

"Katniss," she hisses in exasperation. "He was on the wrestling team. His family ran the bakery in town. He was in our class."

"No way," I say as I rise from my bag and cross my arm indignantly. There's no way I'd been so disinterested in boys during high school that I'd missed eyes that blue. "I'd remember him."

"Please," Johanna said, stepping out of the bathroom. "You were oblivious to anyone outside of our little group."

I'm shocked to see her coming out so soon, one towel wrapped around her waist and another tied like a turban around her head. I'd been expecting it to be almost an hour before we saw her again. A quick glance at the clock tells me she's only been in there about fifteen minutes. I can see a look of surprise on Madge's face too, but I don't get to look at her long because she's immediately diving into the bathroom and slamming the door on Johanna before she can even twitch in the direction of going back in. The look on her face is enough to send both Prim and me into fits of laughter, to which she responds by sticking her nose up in the air and dropping her towel with a smirk, leaving her standing there in nothing but the towel on her head.

Prim and I immediately stop laughing.

Remarkably, all of us are in and out of the shower in an hour. Prim's taken on the task of doing all of our hair and, despite Madge's and my protests, Johanna tackles our make-up. But I'm pleasantly surprised with the results, as is Madge. Johanna has expertly lined our eyes and has applied high and low lights on our faces in all the right places, and I'm relieved to see she's kept the liner and shadow to a modest level in comparison to the dark lines her high cheekbones can pull off. Prim's done my hair in a waterfall braid that stops at the scalp and she ties it off into a ponytail with a black ribbon. Madge's is up in an elegant pile on top of her head, but for herself, Prim just weaves a simple braid across the top of her crown, using it as a hair band for the rest of her hair. Johanna refused styling, instead going for her usual high and tight ponytail.

Prim and Madge have manage to wrangle me into a pair of leather hot-shorts, which I only allowed when they promised I could wear stockings under them to cover the exposed skin. However, I hadn't had the foresight to says what kind of stockings, so they'd put me in a set of black lace stockings they'd found in my bag. I had silently cursed the stylist Cinna for his selections, but I'd internally retracted my anger when I realized they actually did do a pretty good job of covering my legs. Madge had talked Prim out of the black corset she'd picked out for me, alternatively choosing a simple black V-neck similar to my one from last night. Prim and Madge have dressed similarly in tight black skinny jeans and flowing, brightly colored tops.

Johanna, unable to resist her need to top us all, is wearing a set of tight black leather pants with a white tank-top with a neckline so low I almost blushed for her sake. Thankfully, the plunging neckline has three strips of cloth keeping it from widening and Cinna had packed her some sticky tape to keep things in place. You'd think after years of minimal clothing and raunchy talk all these years I'd be used to her. But I still find myself mortified in her presence when she's dressed like this.

"You're not going to try to seduce Finnick tonight, are you?" Madge asks suspiciously. Johanna's sly smile in answer makes Madge moan. "Come on, Johanna. How are the rest of us supposed to sleep when that's going on?"

"Wait," I ask, an idea occurring to me. I raise my eyebrow at her and give her my best 'stern' look. "What are the sleeping arrangements?"

Johanna looks like a Cheshire cat who has just caught the biggest mouse to ever have the misfortune of straying in her path. "Yes, my dear Madge," she asks slyly. "What are the sleeping arrangements?"

Madge groans. "Oh, come off it you two. I'll be in here with you guys, and Gale will be in the next room with Rory, Peeta and Finnick."

"You guys don't want your own room?" Prim asks innocently. "I'd have thought you'd want to sleep next to him, what with you guys not having seen each other in so long."

Madge actually blushes now and completely turns away from me, unwilling to meet my eye now. "We'll…we'll have lots of time together later."

"Later?" I get a sickening sensation when she looks away, the kind I get whenever she's about to drop a very unpleasant bomb on me. "What do you mean?"

Madge turns back to me, and I can see she's biting her lip now, something she does whenever she says something she knows I'm not going to like. "I'm not resigning our lease with you next year."

"You're…not?" I ask, the bottom of my stomach abruptly falling out. It's funny, in a way, how that one sentence sends me reeling so easily. "But…we were going to resign online next week."

Madge looks completely guilty right now and I know that she's been holding on to this for a while now, worried about what I'll say. She takes hold of her shirt, fingering the bottom hem nervously as she talks. "Gale…Gale asked me to come to California with him. I'm going to go live with him there."

I'm completely dumbstruck. I fall back and sit on the bed, my knees going out from under me. What will I do next year? No way can I afford rent on my own, and everyone else already has roommates by now. How could Madge do this to me?

"When did this happen?" I ask quietly. It's now my turn to be unable to look Madge in the eyes. I'm very hurt by this, more than I'd ever really expected to be. I'd never really seen myself as overly dependent on Madge for anything, but the idea of her not being there next year puts a sick feeling of dread in my bones. Who will keep me sane? First Gale left, now Madge? And with Prim's last year of college coming up she's going to leave me soon too. I'm going to be alone, living in a tiny little apartment with nothing to do but stare at my walls and count all the ways I wish things would have turned out differently.

"Right before the tour." Madge sits down softly next to me and I can tell how sorry she is in the way she's looking at me. Her sadness is evident and soothing to my pride. "I graduated, so there's nothing holding me here. No job, no apartment anymore. I can go live with him now. We don't have to be separated anymore."

"Until he leaves you to go party on tour with his buddies," I grumble out. I know I'm not being fair, but her comment on nothing holding her here anymore stings.

Well, if she doesn't see the value in our friendship and rooming together then what do I see in it? Nothing, that's what. If Madge can up and leave me so easily, why should I be bothered enough to care that she's doing it?

"That's not how it is with Gale and you know it," Madge says, draping an arm around my shoulder. "I'd ask you to come with us, but I know you won't leave Prim. You and I both know that you'll probably never leave Prim behind. And I don't fault you for that." She says quickly as she shakes her head and I can see how sad upset she is by this. "But I need to be with Gale. I have to. We've survived the separation this long, but I don't know how much longer I can stand only seeing him on tabloid covers. Being with him will make everything so much better. Can't you understand that, Katniss?"

I close my eyes shut hard, squeezing them closed in frustration as my hands ball up into fists. I hate that she's right. I won't leave Prim behind, which means I can't go with her to California. I wouldn't do well in a concrete jungle anyway. Too much of my blood is filled with the life of the forest around Twelve. Between Prim and the woods, I could never leave Twelve behind. Not for anything. I'm tied to the woods indefinitely, drawn to them most in the moments I'm at my saddest. My father always took me to the woods; he taught me how to use a bow and arrow. That bow and arrow were my strength, and they reminded me I'm not as powerless as I'd always thought I was. The thrum of earthly energy that flowed from my woods through me and into my bow were the only thing that had kept me sane after his death. And when I'd found Gale in those woods after our dads died, crouched over some kind of trap he'd been making up, he'd become a source of strength for me too.

No, I could never leave Twelve or its woods behind.

"I understand," I say softly. I turn and look at Madge, saying the next thing that comes to mind. "Who will I live with next year with you gone?"

Prim jumps in immediately at this, a wide smile breaking her face nearly in two. "Me!" she says excitedly. She comes bouncing over to me from her seat by the window and plops down on the other side of me so hard that Madge and I bounce a little on the bed with the movement.

I turn to her, unable to process what she's saying, what she means. "You?" I ask quietly.

Prim nods excitedly, grasping my hands in hers. "I didn't register for the dorms this year. When Madge told me she was moving to California, I knew you'd need a roommate." She looks bashful now as she says, "I hope you don't mind."

My mouth falls open, and I'm temporarily speechless. I can't seem to process what she's saying, can't wrap my head around the idea that she'd be just down the hall from me. I've felt so disconnected from my sister since I'd left for college, and the ache in my chest has become a permanent sort of fixture inside me. It lifts somewhat at the feeling of hope that accompanies the idea of living with her again. Then I manage to say, "What? Are you kidding? Of course I don't care, Prim. That's amazing."

Prim's ridiculously large smile is back now. "We're going to have so much fun next year! We haven't lived in the same house in years. It will be like coming home."

Madge squeezes my shoulder, which she still has in her grip. "See? Everything works out." She pushes her body against mine, swaying our bodies in a comrade sort of way and says, "I'm sorry I have to leave you, Kitty-Kat." I flinch at the nick-name, annoyed that she's reverted to a name she only uses when she's trying to reason with me. "But we had to know this would happen someday."

I sigh and nod, not trusting myself to speak. So I sit here and enjoy the feel of Madge's arm around me and the idea that Prim is moving in with me. I'm not overly thrilled with the idea of Madge leaving me behind, but the fact that Prim will be moving in to take over is a balm to my wounds. At least it will be until Prim leaves me too.

"Oh," Johanna says nonchalantly from in front of the large mirror in the corner of the room where's she's been adjusting and retouching her makeup for the last ten minutes. "I'm moving in too."

And my peace is broken.

"What!" I ask, jumping off the bed in shock. I look over at Johanna, who's now applying a fresh coat of lip-gloss in the mirror and stare her down intently. "What do you mean you're moving in?"

Johanna doesn't immediately respond. Instead she nods at her reflection in the mirror, popping her lips once she's done wiggling them together to spread the lip-gloss around. Then she turns and walks to her bag to get a hair brush and starts brushing out her hair, seemingly unaware of the bomb she's just dropped.

"Prim said she was moving in with you, I asked her if she wanted to make it a three-way." She throws Prim a look that's intended to be scandalous. "And she, of course, said yes."

Johanna is saved from Prim's retort and my frantic questioning when the door to connecting our hotel rooms bursts open to reveal Gale, Rory, Finnick and Peeta. They've all changed into fresh sets of clothes, although the differences between tonight's looks and yesterdays are barely noticeable. They're all in jeans again, although Rory and Peeta are wearing black ones tonight, with obscure band t-shirts to match.

"Are you guys ready?" Gale asks. He's got a big smile on his face and I can tell by the glimmer in his eyes he's excited for tonight.

Johanna rolls her eyes. "If you even have to ask, then no, we're not."

Madge shakes her head, ready to call Johanna's bullshit, but Finnick is immediately at Johanna's side, throwing an arm around her waist jovially.

"You look beautiful, Ms. Mason," he says happily. "The vision of a rock goddess."

Johanna blushes but pushes him away, a small smile falling on her face. "Well, then I suppose we're ready."

I've been watching the exchange between Finnick and Johanna worriedly, a small pit of apprehension widening in my stomach when I look over at Peeta. He's staring at me intently, his eyes dark as he takes in what I'm wearing. I immediately move to dive for my jacket, fully intending to cover as much of my exposed skin as I can with it. But Prim is suddenly there in front of me, blocking my path with a teasing smile.

"Stop it," she hisses softly. "You look great."

"You do," Peeta says softly, his eyes now bright with amusement at my antics. "Don't be so quick to hide."

Gale lets out a loud, long chortle at this. "I never knew you had legs, Everdeen." He gives me a serious, contemplating look now though and says, "Not bad."

I flush instantly at this, far more embarrassed than I can ever remember being before. I'm struggling to find something to say, but Madge is there in a second, smacking Gale hard on the arm and giving him an only half-way serious scowl.

"You, Mr. Hawthorne, need to keep your eyes off places you wouldn't put your hands."

"Is that the rule for all of us?" Finnick asks with a wicked smile. "Because that still leaves me with a lot of options."

"Oh good grief," sighs Prim. She looks over to Rory, who's shaking his head at his brother's antics. Rory has always been the clown of the Hawthorne family but has always had the innocence to keep the jokes cleaner than his older brother.

"Welcome to my life," he says, his lips lifting up into a goofy half-smile.

Gale seizes his brother in a headlock, rubbing his knuckles on Rory's head with pressure hard enough to make the boy squirm. "You're lucky to be here at all, little brother."

Rory finally manages to wiggle free, shoving his brother so hard that he nearly falls over from the force of it. "Please," he sighs. "Without me, you wouldn't have a band at all."

Peeta grins, his tone joking at he says, "Like drummers are hard to find in California."

Rory throws his hand at Peeta, dismissing the jab. "I work cheap and I was on a plane only two hours after the call." He gives Prim a wide smile. "That's dedication, there."

"Oh, please," Finnick sighs. He comes over and takes my hand, pulling me toward the door of the hotel. "Stop panting over each other's dicks and let's go. We've got a show to do."

I let Finnick pull me along, enjoying the feel of his rough hand in mine, but I look back to check that everyone's following. Johanna looks a little put out that Finnick didn't grab her hand, but I can't help thinking that this will help keep her cool when it comes to any attraction she's harboring for the man. But Prim's slung her arm through Johanna's and is giving her a smile that you just can't help return. Gale's got his arm wrapped around Madge's waist and he's steering her along behind us, leaving Peeta and Rory to follow. I lock eyes with Peeta momentarily. He gives me a brief, shy smile, but his eyes are glittering with something more feral than what I'd expected, his eyes flickering quickly to Finnick's and my joined hands. I tilt my head at him, curious over what he's thinking, but I don't say anything. Instead I make myself ignore the look and the feelings it sends coursing down my spine and turn back to see where Finnick is dragging me, which is apparently the elevator.

Finnick and I are the first to arrive at the sleek gold doors of the high-speed elevator that will drop us quickly down 20 flights, and idea that makes me more nervous than I'll ever admit out loud. He punches the 'down' arrow smoothly, then leans up against the wall in a way I'm sure he thinks is very cool. The others are just catching up to us when the elevator dings, announcing its arrival. We all shuffle in, wordless except for Prim's and Johanna's inane babble that dominates the space and prevents anyone from putting in another word.

And somehow, even though he'd been at the back of the group, Peeta manages to get himself wedged in beside me in the back of the elevator. Eight bodies isn't the most cramped I've ever been in an elevator, but I feel almost claustrophobic as I become hyper aware of his body standing so near to mine. He's standing closer than he needs to, leaning over me in a way that sends shivers down my spine. I can appreciate how broad and strong his body when it's so close to me, the width of it making me think things I shouldn't, like how it would feel to be wrapped in his arms.

And this puts me straight into a sour mood. What business does he have standing so close to me and making me think such irrational thoughts? A part of me wonders if Madge has been too forthcoming with Gale about my dry spell, and if Gale has shared this information with Peeta, it would explain why he insisted on doing things that made my body sing in anticipation, regardless of any rational thought I tried to push on it.

"Enjoy your shower?" Peeta asked softly. His breath tickles my neck, and I have to close my eyes to concentrate on not thinking about how close his lips could be to my skin.

"Yes," I say curtly, taking a small step forward and away from him and his appealing body heat. "Thank you."

"Good." And then I think I can hear a smile in his voice as he says teasingly, "You sure smell better than you did earlier."

Oh my God. He didn't just comment on my body odor.

"Well," I hiss at him as I throw a glare over my shoulder at him. "Maybe you shouldn't stand so close to me."

"We're in an elevator, Kitty," he says in a mock covert tone, his eyes twinkling with mirth at my angry reaction to the hated nickname. "We kind of have to stand together."

I look pointedly at the empty space on the other side of the elevator between Gale and Finnick, but Peeta doesn't move. Instead, he chuckles low under his breath, which continues tickling my neck just behind my ear. I think to turn around and risk locking eyes with him just so I can tell him off, but the elevator quickly comes to a smooth stop and the doors open. Finnick and Rory push forward ahead of everyone eagerly, and soon we've left the elevator behind and are moving into the hotel lobby. And so I don't get another chance to reprimand Peeta because we're immediately ushered into another limo by a tall, broad man in a suit. And then there's too much champagne to drink to leave much room for telling him off anytime soon. I throw down two glasses in quick succession, enjoying the fuzzy feeling that dampens my nerves. Between the crowd at the festival and Peeta's lingering stare I'm going to need every drop of liquid courage I can get.

.x.x.x.

Surprise! I couldn't resist posting a day early...I know, call me a rebel ;)

A couple of people have made some sad comments about how few reviews this thing has. Over 200 of you have favorited/followed this story but there's only a handful of reviews. If you liked it, tell me! Don't like it, tell me! I'd love to get feedback from everyone and see what they think. Please? :)

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Thanks again to my amazing beta Court81981 who is always a source of encouragement and praise, even when I think I've spewed out utter crap. Guys, it wouldn't be that good looking without her help. Also a special thanks to everyone who reviewed, you guys are awesome. I think so many of you, based on your reviews, are going to be happy with where this is going.

I'm going to try and get a few more chapters cranked out to my lovely beta Court81981 and maybe we'll get an early update up next week in addition to the Friday one. Reviews are the best source of encouragement, so help me make it happen everyone.

Kisses and Love, everyone!